Chapter 2: His Rules, Not Mine
869 Words
Ethan's house wasn't what she expected.
She didn't know what she expected, exactly. A cave, maybe. Something dark and dramatic that matched the whole mysterious-stranger-in-the-woods energy. Instead it was just... a house. Big, sure. Older than most things in town, with wide wooden beams and windows that looked out into nothing but trees. But still a house. With a kitchen and everything.
"Sit," he said, nodding toward a chair at the table.
"I'm fine standing."
He looked at her. Just looked. The kind of look that probably worked on most people.
Maya pulled out the chair and sat down.
She told herself it was because her legs were tired. Which was true, actually, so it barely counted as giving in.
Ethan moved around the kitchen without turning on more than one light. She watched him fill a glass of water and set it in front of her, then lean against the counter with his arms crossed, studying her the way you'd study something you weren't sure was dangerous or just confused.
"You're not scared," he said. It wasn't a question.
"I'm terrified," she said. "I'm just also very tired and my shoes are wet and I'd like to understand what's happening before I commit to a full breakdown."
Something moved in his expression. Gone before she could name it.
"What do you remember from the forest?"
"Running. Something following me." She wrapped her hands around the glass. It was cold. Grounding. "Eyes. Gold, low to the ground. More than one." She looked up at him. "What were they?"
He was quiet for a moment too long.
"Ethan."
"Wolves," he said.
"Wolves." She repeated the word slowly, testing it. "We don't have wolves here. We haven't had wolves in this county for like sixty years."
"I know."
"So what were—"
"Not ordinary wolves." He said it like he was pulling a bandage off fast, like speed made it better. "You need to understand something, Maya. What you walked into tonight — most people don't walk back out of it. Not without a reason."
She noticed he'd used her name. She hadn't told him her name.
"How do you know what my name is?"
He didn't answer. Which was an answer.
"Okay," she said carefully. "So you know who I am. And there are not-ordinary wolves in the forest. And you — what? Scared them off? Called them off?"
"The second one."
The glass was very cold in her hands.
"You're one of them," she said.
It wasn't a question either.
He held her gaze and didn't deny it. That was somehow worse than if he'd laughed at her.
"I want you to listen to me very carefully," he said, pushing off the counter and stepping closer. Not threatening. Just deliberate. "What you saw tonight — you can't tell anyone. Not your friends, not your family. No one."
"Why not?"
"Because the ones who followed you tonight? They weren't my pack. And if they find out a human saw them—" He stopped. Jaw tight. "They'll come back to make sure you can't tell anyone anyway."
Maya stared at him.
"So I'm in danger."
"Yes."
"Because I went for a walk."
"Yes."
"That's—" She pressed her lips together. "That's genuinely unfair."
"I know."
She stood up. Her legs held, which felt like a small victory. She was the same height as his shoulder, which meant she had to look up to meet his eyes, which she did not love about this situation.
"What happens now?" she asked.
"Now you stay here tonight. In the morning I'll figure out how to—"
"I'm not staying here."
"Maya—"
"I don't know you. I don't know what you are. I don't—" She stopped. Breathed. "I appreciate that you helped me. I do. But I'm not staying in a stranger's house because he told me to."
Ethan looked at her for a long moment.
"The thing that followed you," he said quietly. "It knows your scent now."
She really hated how much sense that made.
"Fine," she said, for the second time tonight. "But I want a door with a lock."
"The room at the top of the stairs."
"And I want to leave first thing in the morning."
"We'll talk about it in the morning."
She decided not to push it. She was tired and her feet hurt and there was apparently something in the forest that knew what she smelled like.
She grabbed the glass of water and headed for the stairs.
"Hey." His voice stopped her at the bottom step. She looked back. He was still leaning against the counter, watching her with that same unreadable expression. "You're handling this well."
"I'm not," she said. "I'm just doing it quietly."
She went upstairs before he could respond.
The room had a lock. She used it.
She sat on the edge of the bed in the dark for a long time, listening to the silence outside the window, thinking about gold eyes and a voice that said called them off like it was nothing.
She didn't sleep for a long time.
But eventually — against every reasonable instinct she had — she did.
- Writer
