Chapter Five : Oelle
1421 Words
My name is Malek.”
The way he said it—steady, grounded—made it feel heavier than just a name.
I nodded slowly. “Okay.”
He waited.
“…And?” he prompted.
“And what?”
“You usually ask for the rest.”
I swallowed. “I don’t think I want the rest yet.”
A flicker of something—approval, maybe—crossed his face. “Fair.”
I shifted on the bed, pulling the blanket tighter around myself. Morning light slipped through the curtains, soft and almost normal. If it weren’t for the low hum in the air—the presence of too many unseen things—I could’ve pretended this was just another strange house, another strange man.
But my body knew better.
“Oelle.”
He looked up. “What?”
“My name,” I said. “It’s Oelle.”
He repeated it once, quietly. “Oelle.”
Something in my chest eased. I hated that it did.
“You said you’d introduce me to the truth,” I reminded him. “I’m still waiting.”
Malek leaned back against the wall, giving me space. “You should eat first.”
“That’s not the truth.”
“No,” he agreed. “But you’re human. And you’re shaking.”
I glanced down. I was. Slightly. “I’m fine.”
“You haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
“You keep tabs on my meals now?”
“Yes.”
“That’s invasive.”
“It’s protective.”
I rolled my eyes. “You use that word a lot.”
“Because it matters.”
He moved toward the door. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“Kitchen.”
I hesitated. “Are they out there?”
“Yes.”
My stomach dropped. “Then I’m not going.”
“They won’t touch you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I said so.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It should be.”
I sighed, pushing myself to my feet. The moment I stood, the room tilted—just a little. Malek was there instantly, a hand hovering near my elbow without touching.
“I’ve got you,” he said.
“I didn’t fall.”
“You almost did.”
I hated how safe his voice made me feel.
We stepped into the hallway. The house felt… awake. Not loud, but alert. Like it was holding its breath.
I lowered my voice. “How many of them are here?”
Malek didn’t slow. “Enough.”
“That’s not a number.”
“It’s not meant to be.”
I caught movement from the corner of my eye—someone stepping back into the shadows as we passed.
“They’re watching me,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“That’s unsettling.”
“They’re curious.”
“About what?”
“You.”
I stopped walking. “Malek.”
He stopped too, turning fully toward me. “Yes.”
“I don’t want to be some… thing they circle around.”
“You’re not a thing.”
“Then why does it feel like I’m being assessed?”
“Because you are.”
I stared at him. “You really don’t soften blows, do you?”
“No,” he said honestly. “I don’t lie either.”
The kitchen was warm. Sunlit. Normal again. A cruel contrast.
He gestured to a chair. “Sit.”
I did. Mostly because my legs felt weak.
He placed a plate in front of me. Eggs. Toast. Simple.
“You eat like a human,” I muttered.
A corner of his mouth lifted. “I learned a long time ago.”
“From who?”
“My mother.”
I paused mid-bite. “She was human?”
“Yes.”
That surprised me more than claws and Alphas.
“You don’t talk about her,” I said.
“I don’t talk about a lot of things.”
I studied him over the rim of my cup. “Is that an Alpha thing?”
“It’s a survival thing.”
Silence settled between us—not awkward, just… full.
After a moment, I said, “You said I belong here.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t remember agreeing to that.”
“You didn’t.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
“I’m not okay with it,” he corrected. “I accept it.”
I pushed the plate away, appetite gone. “I need you to explain this bond thing. Properly.”
Malek exhaled slowly, like he’d been expecting this.
“Some humans,” he began, “are… compatible.”
“With wolves,” I guessed.
“With us,” he said firmly. “Not animals. Not monsters.”
“Right. Just territorial, sharp-toothed immortals.”
“Long-lived,” he corrected. “Not immortal.”
“That’s not comforting.”
He ignored that. “Compatibility is rare. When it happens, it creates a pull. A recognition.”
“Like imprinting?” I asked.
His jaw tightened. “No.”
“Then what?”
“Choice still exists,” he said. “But the bond makes ignoring it difficult.”
“So you felt it first.”
“Yes.”
“And I didn’t.”
“You did,” he said quietly. “You just didn’t have language for it.”
My chest felt tight. “That’s not fair.”
“No.”
“But you stayed,” he added.
I looked away. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Exactly.”
I stood abruptly. “You keep saying that like it proves something.”
“It does.”
“To you,” I snapped. “Not to me.”
He rose too, but didn’t crowd me. “Then tell me what you need.”
I hesitated. No one ever asked me that.
“I need… time,” I said. “And honesty. And for you to stop acting like my future is already decided.”
Malek nodded once. “Done.”
“That easily?”
“I can promise restraint,” he said. “Not distance.”
I laughed under my breath. “Figures.”
A sound echoed through the house—low, sharp.
Malek stiffened. His head snapped toward the window.
“What was that?” I asked.
“Trouble.”
“Of course it is.”
He turned to me, eyes intense. “Oelle, listen to me.”
My heart started racing. “I am listening.”
“If anything happens—anything—you stay close to me.”
“Malek—”
“I mean it,” he said. “Do not run from me.”
“What if I’m scared?”
“Especially then.”
The air shifted. Heavy. Charged.
From outside, a voice carried—unfamiliar. Mocking.
“So this is the human.”
Malek stepped in front of me instantly, his body a shield.
“She’s not for you,” he growled.
I peeked around him despite myself. “Malek, who is that?”
His voice didn’t soften. “Someone who doesn’t respect boundaries.”
The presence outside laughed. “She smells unfinished.”
My skin prickled.
Malek’s hands curled into fists. “Leave.”
“Or what?”
The room seemed to vibrate.
I grabbed Malek’s sleeve without thinking. “Don’t.”
He glanced back at me, surprised.
My voice was shaking, but steady. “Please.”
Something in his expression changed. Control snapping back into place.
“Go,” he said again—quiet, lethal.
The presence withdrew. Slowly.
The house exhaled.
I realized I was still holding his sleeve.
I let go quickly. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
He turned to face me fully now. “You just stopped a fight.”
I frowned. “I did?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“You anchored me,” he said. “That’s… not nothing.”
I swallowed. “I don’t want power over you.”
“You don’t,” he said. “You have influence.”
“That’s worse.”
A beat.
“Welcome to the bond,” Malek said.
I laughed weakly. “I hate it here.”
His gaze softened. “You won’t. Not always.”
“…Promise?”
“I don’t make promises lightly,” he said. Then, after a moment, “But I’ll try.”
Outside, the pack stirred again.
And this time—
They weren’t just watching me.
- Writer
