Leaving
848 Words
Gabriel POV:
I should not be here. The thought repeats itself with every measured breath I take. With every second I stand in her small apartment pretending I am still in control. The space is too intimate. Too warm. Too hers. Her scent clings to the air—lavender soap, paper, something uniquely human—and beneath it, something else that makes my wolf press hard against my restraint.
Her.
She moves around the room, mug cradled between her hands, unaware of how every step tightens the leash I have wrapped around myself. The scrape of ceramic on wood is loud in the silence. The kettle’s hiss fades. The night settles. I keep my distance. I have to.
"You’re staring," she says softly, not accusing, just observant. I look away immediately, jaw locking. "I’m not." A lie. A weak one.
She doesn’t call me on it. Instead, she sits on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumping as the adrenaline finally drains from her body. The sight hits me harder than any blow. Vulnerable. Exhausted. Trusting. My wolf surges.
Protect.
Claim.
Mine.
I grip the back of the chair beside me, wood creaking under my fingers. I hadn’t realized I was holding so tightly until the sound snapped through the room. Ashley looks up. "Hey… are you okay?" No. "I’m fine," I say, forcing the words through clenched teeth.
She studies me, brow furrowing. "You don’t look fine." I take a step back—putting space between us before instinct erases the concept entirely. My chest feels tight, breath coming a fraction too fast. This has never happened before. Not like this. Not so suddenly. Centuries of discipline. Years of control. And one human woman is unraveling it in minutes. "You should rest," I say, voice rough. "It’s been a long night." Her lips press together. "Are you leaving?"
The question shouldn’t matter.
It does.
"I should," I admit. Unmoving. She nods slowly, disappointment flickering across her face before she hides it. That small expression—so quick, so human—splinters something inside me. My wolf lunges. Pain lances through my skull as I slam my control down hard, breath stuttering. For a heartbeat, the room sharpens—the edges of sound too clear, the colors too vivid. I smell everything: the cotton of her sweater, the salt of dried tears, the blood rushing just beneath her skin.
Gods.
I turn away abruptly, pacing once, twice. "Ashley… there are things happening to me right now that I don’t fully understand." She stands. Slowly. Cautiously. "That makes two of us," she says. She takes a step toward me. The space between us collapses. Her hand brushes my arm—accidental, light, meaningless. It detonates everything. The world drops away as heat tears through me, violent and primal. My vision fractures—gold bleeding into the edges. A low growl rips from my chest before I can stop it. Ashley freezes.
"What—" Her breath catches. "Gabriel?" I spin toward her, horror slicing through the haze as I see the fear flicker in her eyes—not terror, but surprise. Confusion. I step back immediately, pressing my palm flat against my chest like I can physically hold my heart in place. "Don’t touch me," I say hoarsely. She stiffens. "I’m sorry, I didn’t—" "It’s not you," I snap, then soften my tone with effort. "It’s me. I need… a moment." My hands are shaking. That has never happened before. I drag in a breath, then another, forcing the wolf down, down, down until the gold fades and the room steadies. The silence afterward is deafening. Ashley watches me carefully. "What was that?"
I meet her gaze. There is no easy lie. No safe truth. "Something you wouldn't understand," I say finally. Her voice is barely above a whisper. "try me." "No," I say instantly, stepping closer without thinking. I stopped myself just in time. I gesture vaguely to myself. "—This is dangerous. And you shouldn’t be anywhere near it." She swallows and steps closer, making the space between us disappear. "You scared me." I can feel and smell her warm and sweet breath on me. "I know." My voice drops. "That’s why I have to leave. Before I scare you more," I reach for my coat. And she places her hand on mine. "Maybe you don't have to leave..." Her words are tempting like a siren's call to a lost ship near the rocks. I hesitate, every instinct screaming. "If you leave," she says quietly, "I'm afraid I might never see you again, and something inside me is pulling at me to hold you close."
The wolf howls. I turn my back to her, control hanging by a thread. "No," I promise, the word tearing itself from my chest."This isn't the end." I don’t know how I’ll keep that promise. Only breaking it would destroy me. And as I step into the cold night, one truth burns brighter than fear:
I am no longer in control.
And she is the reason.
- Writer
