The Wolf Who Ran With Me
1311 Words
CHAPTER TWO: THE WOLF WHO RAN WITH ME
Elara POV
The wind tore at my skin like claws, and I clung to Kael’s thick fur as the forest blurred around us. Every stride jolted through my bones, knocking the breath from my lungs. I didn’t know if the pain in my body was from the cursed bond, the chains that had shredded my wrists, or the weight of what had just happened. Probably all three.
Kael ran like a creature possessed—fast, fluid, and brutal. Branches clawed at my arms and face, their sharp edges biting into my skin. Pine needles slashed across my cheeks, and I bit my tongue hard to keep from making a sound. I would not cry. Not now. Not in front of him.
The scent of wolves lingered behind us—sharp, musky, and hungry. We were being followed. That much was obvious. Whether they were mine or his, I didn’t care. I wasn’t going back to that altar. Not alive.
Kael launched over a stream, his massive paws skimming the surface like a phantom. The water splashed around us, cold and biting, but I barely felt it. My heart raced, pounding in my chest like a war drum, urging us to flee faster. When he finally stopped, it was in a narrow clearing, hidden between two ridges. The snow had been disturbed by deer or wolves, but it was otherwise quiet, a deceptive calm that made my skin prickle.
He dropped low, panting, and then he shifted. It wasn’t graceful. Shifting never was. Bones cracked. Skin tore and reformed. Muscles twisted. I turned my head away, unable to watch the transformation, but the sounds were unmistakable—wet and visceral, like a predator shedding its skin.
By the time I staggered off his back, Kael was human again—bare-chested, covered in dirt and half-healed bruises. Steam rose from his skin in the cold air, his breath forming heavy clouds that mingled with the frost. He looked like a warrior, raw and powerful, but I couldn’t let myself admire him. Not now.
“We’re safe,” he said roughly, his voice low and gravelly. “For now.”
I tried to stand, but my knees buckled beneath me. He moved toward me instinctively, but I held up a hand, a barrier between us.
“Don’t touch me,” I said, my voice shaking despite my effort to sound strong.
He stopped a few paces short, his expression unreadable. “Wasn’t going to.”
He unfastened the thick outer layer of his cloak and tossed it at me. “Here. You’re freezing.”
“I’m fine,” I snapped, my pride flaring.
“You’re not.” His tone was firm, unyielding.
I didn’t want to need anything from him—not his warmth, not his protection, not even his damn cloak. But my fingers were going numb, and I wasn’t stupid enough to die of exposure just to make a point. I wrapped it around myself, careful not to let it brush my mark.
It smelled like him storm-soaked steel, pine, and something darker underneath. Something wild. I hated how it made me feel, cocooned in his scent, as if I were safe.
He cleared a space among the trees, methodical and silent. The way he moved irritated me. Too calm. Too efficient. Like running for your life was just another part of his day. “You’re used to this,” I muttered, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice.
Kael didn’t look at me. “Used to surviving.”
He knelt by a tree trunk and started building a fire with practiced ease. Sparks snapped as he struck the flint, and soon a small flame danced between us. Not enough to get us caught. Just enough to keep us alive.
He unwrapped a strip of dried meat and set it near the fire on a flat stone. My stomach growled. Loudly.
Kael raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “You should eat.”
“I’d rather starve,” I shot back, crossing my arms defiantly.
His expression didn’t change. “Suit yourself.”
We sat in silence, the fire crackling softly. The snow whispered against the branches above us, a gentle reminder of the world outside our small sanctuary. Far away, another howl cut through the night. Not close. But not far, either. My heart raced again, the primal instinct to flee rising within me.
I watched him from the corner of my eye. His face was hard, unreadable. He looked like a statue carved from stone and shadow, a warrior forged in the fires of battle. “You screamed,” he said suddenly, not looking up.
“So did you,” I snapped, defensively.
“Yeah,” he said. “But not like that.”
I clenched my jaw. “You mean like someone being burned alive?”
He didn’t answer right away. “No. I mean, like something inside me cracked open. And then locked shut again.”
I stared at him, the weight of his words settling over me like a heavy cloak. That’s exactly what it had felt like. But I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.
“Don’t talk to me like we’re on the same side,” I said, my voice low and fierce.
He nodded slowly, his gaze finally meeting mine. “Right. Because you’d rather I left you there. Let the guards drag you back.”
“I’d rather you stop pretending to care,” I shot back, my heart pounding with anger.
He turned his full attention on me now, his eyes piercing. “I don’t care, Elara. Don’t mistake survival for affection.”
I stiffened, the truth of his words cutting deeper than I wanted to admit. “I saved you,” he continued, “because if you die, I die. This isn’t about you. It’s about the curse.”
“So I’m a burden,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“You’re a time bomb,” he replied, his tone unyielding.
Kael stood, the firelight catching the edge of the mark on his hand. It glowed faintly, echoing mine. I felt a shiver run down my spine, a reminder of the bond that tied us together, whether I wanted it or not.
“I didn’t ask for this,” I said, my voice trembling with frustration.
“Neither did I,” he replied, stepping closer. “But here we are. You think I wanted to be bonded to someone whose people would rather gut me than breathe the same air?”
I rose to my feet, anger flaring within me. “Funny. I thought the feeling was mutual.”
We stared at each other across the fire, marks pulsing between us, a silent acknowledgement of our shared fate.
Then he said, quietly, “You’re not what I expected.”
“And you’re exactly what I expected,” I shot back, my heart racing.
He flinched, and for a moment, I wondered if I had struck a nerve.
Later, after the fire died low, Kael leaned back against a tree and folded his arms. His eyes closed, but I could tell he wasn’t asleep. Not really. I lay curled on the opposite side of the clearing, wrapped in his cloak, the mark on my hand glowing faintly under the fabric.
It throbbed. Not pain, exactly. Not warmth either. Something else. Something I couldn’t name. The longer I watched him, the louder it became—like a second heartbeat thudding just beneath my skin. I touched it, hoping it would stop. It didn’t. Worse, I saw his mark respond. Even unconscious—or pretending to—be—Kael’s body felt it too.
We were bound. Not in devotion. Not in love. In warning.
- Writer
