Wings Of My Regret

The Fever in the Veins

Chapter 1[part:1]: The Fever in the Veins

For Lily, life was measured in venti lattes, overdue library books, and the constant, buzzing chill of the city. She was a junior at Northwood University, majoring in History, mostly because she felt an odd, unexplainable pull toward ancient things—old maps, dusty ruins, and legends of things that shouldn't exist.

But lately, something was wrong.

It started with the heat. While her roommates were shivering in the autumn breeze, Lily was sweating. Her skin felt like it was humming, a low-grade vibration that made her fingers itch.

The Mirror's Secret

On a Tuesday morning, Lily stood in front of her bathroom mirror, splashing cold water on her face. As the droplets slid down her skin, she saw it. For a split second, her reflection didn't look human. Her pupils didn't just dilate; they stretched. They became vertical slits of burning gold before snapping back to her usual hazel.

"Just sleep deprivation," she whispered, her voice trembling. "It’s just the exams."

The History Archive

Later that afternoon, Lily was tucked away in the deepest corner of the university library. She was researching "The Great Fire of 1802" for her thesis. As she turned the page of a fragile, leather-bound manuscript, her fingertip brushed a symbol etched into the parchment: a dragon coiled around a dying sun.

The moment she touched it, a jolt of electricity shot up her arm.

Clang.

The sound of a heavy metal door closing echoed through the silent stacks. The air in the room changed instantly. The smell of old paper was replaced by something intoxicating—the scent of a forest fire, expensive leather, and a spice she couldn't name. It was heavy. It was male.

The Stranger in the Shadows

"You're looking at the wrong history, Lily," a deep, melodic voice rumbled from the shadows of the bookshelves.

Lily froze. Standing at the end of the aisle was a man who looked like he had been carved out of granite. He was tall, wearing a dark coat that seemed to swallow the light. His hair was black as a raven's wing, and his eyes... they were the same gold she had seen in the mirror.

"Who are you?" Lily gasped, clutching her bag to her chest. "How do you know my name?"

The man stepped forward, and with every inch he gained, the heat in Lily’s body spiked. Her heart began to beat in a rhythm that wasn't hers—it was his.

"My name is Kaelen," he said, his voice dropping to a predatory growl. "And you have been hiding in this skin for far too long. You wonder why you feel like you're burning? It's because your fire is waking up. You aren't one of them, Lily. You were never meant to be 'human'."

Lily’s heart hammered. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm leaving."

As she tried to push past him, Kaelen reached out. He didn't grab her; he simply let his hand hover near her neck. The sheer power radiating from him—the Alpha scent—hit her like a physical wave. It was primal. It was terrifying.

"Run if you must," Kaelen whispered, his eyes glowing. "But you can't run from your own blood. And you certainly can't run from me. I've waited three lifetimes to find you again."