Episode 2: The Alpha’s Heir and the Healer Girl
685 Words
Episode 2: The Alpha’s Heir and the Healer Girl
If there's one thing more awkward than nearly kissing your not-brother on a roof, it’s running into him the next morning in your pajamas, holding a bowl of cereal, and pretending nothing happened.
“Morning,” I said, standing stiff in the kitchen like a soldier reporting for duty.
Kael didn’t look at me. “Your hair’s a mess.”
“Thanks, Alpha of Charm.”
He grabbed a protein bar from the counter and bit into it like it personally offended him.
I stared at my cereal. My cereal stared back.
“So… last night,” I started, trying to sound breezy. “Didn’t happen. Right?”
Kael chewed like his life depended on it.
“Exactly,” I said quickly. “A total not-thing. We’re adults. Adults talk. They... get close sometimes. It's normal.”
“You’re babbling,” he muttered.
“Am not.”
He glanced up. Our eyes met. My heart hiccupped again.
“Selene,” he said, voice low, “you need to stay away from me.”
I blinked. “You’re kidding, right? I live here.”
“Then move.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m serious. The bond—it’s not safe. For either of us.”
There it was again. That word. Bond.
I didn’t want to ask. But of course, I did.
“What do you mean by ‘bond’?”
Kael exhaled hard, shoving a hand through his messy black hair. “Nothing. It’s probably nothing.”
Which is exactly what people say when it’s definitely something.
---
I stormed off, marched straight to the infirmary, and slammed down my cereal bowl so hard the Beta’s wife flinched.
“Selene,” she said gently, “you’re holding a tongue depressor like it insulted your family.”
I blinked at the wooden stick in my hand. Oops.
“I’m fine,” I lied. “Totally calm. Very healer-y.”
She arched a brow. “Did Kael say something?”
I pursed my lips. “Why would you assume that?”
She gave me the same look I gave unruly pups with ticks in their ears.
“You're glowing,” she said. “And twitching. That’s a bad combo.”
---
Later that day, I snuck into the training arena.
Kael was sparring shirtless.
Of course he was.
His back muscles flexed like he was starring in a tragic warrior romance. Sweat dripped down his spine in slow, sinful rivulets. The only thing more dangerous than his fists was the way his eyes locked on mine the second he noticed me watching.
I tried to look unaffected. Failed.
He called for a break. His opponent limped off gratefully, muttering something about Kael’s fists being made of iron and poor choices.
Kael stalked toward me.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he said.
I crossed my arms. “And yet, here I am.”
“What do you want?”
“To train.”
He narrowed his eyes. “With me?”
“No, with the mop in the corner,” I snapped. “Yes, with you.”
He hesitated. “Fine. One round.”
We circled.
I moved first—fast, agile, but Kael caught my wrist mid-strike. Twisted. Pulled.
Suddenly I was pressed against him, his arm across my back, our faces inches apart.
“This is a bad idea,” he whispered.
“Because I might beat you?” I whispered back.
His grip tightened—gently, firmly, like he wanted to crush the moment but couldn’t.
“I can hear your heartbeat,” he said, voice rough. “It’s calling mine.”
My breath caught.
And then—
His forehead touched mine. Soft. Barely there.
A silent scream of everything we couldn’t say.
I closed my eyes, let the heat of him soak into my skin.
“Kael…”
He let me go.
The air between us snapped like a broken string.
“Training’s over,” he said hoarsely, turning away.
And I stood there, trying to remember how to stand.
---
- Writer
