The moment the words left my mouth, I froze.
Why did I trust him?
Why did I feel… he would help?
I had no explanation—only a quiet voice buried deep in my subconscious insisting that this man would never hand me over to the ones chasing me.
He didn't answer.
In the dark, all that existed were our breaths—his steady and deep, mine sharp and trembling.
After several long seconds, he finally spoke.
His tone was calm, yet carried an authority that allowed no argument. "Take care of it."
The warrior outside immediately replied, "Understood, Alpha."
When the footsteps faded down the hall, the tension drained out of my body, and I let out a shaky breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
But just as I thought the danger had passed—
A low, restrained voice slid through the darkness, close enough that it brushed my ear:
"Now," he murmured, his fingers hooking beneath my chin and tilting my face up to his, "it's time for you to keep your promise."
The next second, I was suddenly lifted off the ground.
"Wait—!"
Before I could react, his fiery, powerful arms had already wrapped around me, locking me in place. In one swift motion, he tossed me onto the bed.
The mattress dipped under my weight, knocking a soft groan out of me.
"You—!" I tried to sit up, but his shadow fell over me before I could move.
His Alpha presence crashed down like a wave, squeezing the air from my lungs. His breath was hot, seething with a fury that tangled with the wild, barely contained wolf inside him. In the dim light, his eyes burned crimson—predator's eyes, fixed on me.
Oh no—
He'd completely misunderstood.
"Wait, wait! Stop!" I threw my hands up in front of me, instinctively shielding myself. "It's not what you think!"
He froze. His Adam's apple bobbed, but that suffocating pressure didn't ease.
"Not?" His voice was low and rough—like a beast giving its final warning.
Braced over me, he panted hard, radiating danger stretched to its breaking point. His eyes—dark, bloodshot, feral—never left my face. His wolf was shredding through the last strand of his sanity. He really thought—
"No, no, no! You've got it all wrong!" I pushed both hands out to stop him, and the moment my palms met his chest, heat surged beneath my touch—boiling, unstable.
He let out a guttural growl. "Don't tell me you're backing out now."
His voice shook—not just with anger, but with pain.
I could tell—he wasn't forcing me. He was forcing himself. The moon tonight was too strong. He was barely holding on.
I swallowed hard and inched back. "What I meant earlier was using my healing ability—not… that. I can help you get through this. I can suppress your wolf for tonight. Right now, you're… you're on the edge."
Silence throbbed between us.
He hovered over me, his breath scorching my cheeks. His reddened eyes scanned my face again and again, as if searching for any hint of a lie.
Finally, he shut his eyes slowly, like he was physically wrestling himself back from the brink.
And then—
that crushing, suffocating danger that had been swallowing me whole finally eased.
I seized the chance. "I can ease the pain. I can keep your wolf from breaking loose completely. You misunderstood—I wasn't…" My ears burned. "I didn't mean it like that."
His chest rose and fell harder, like he was trying—and failing—to cage the beast clawing inside him.
"You can… suppress it?" His voice was barely a rasp, like he'd just found a lifeline.
"Only temporarily, but yes." I watched the tension cut sharply along his jaw. "If you keep going like this, you'll hurt me. And you'll hurt yourself."
He stilled. His eyes, dark as the night itself, flickered—like my words were finally getting through.
I let out a shaky breath, my whole body sagging with relief.
"Thank God you understood…"
I didn't even get to finish the sentence before a low, hoarse chuckle slipped past his lips. The sound skated down my spine.
"But," he murmured, his breath brushing my ear, "I prefer it this way."
In the next heartbeat, he pressed down again—certain, unstoppable. Gold flickered beneath the red in his eyes, a warning that the wolf was tightening its hold on him.
"No—calm down!" I pushed at him, trying to dodge, sinking deeper into the mattress. "You're not calm right now, you—hey! Stop!"
"Struggling won't help." He pinned my wrists beside my head, his voice a dangerous rumble. "You know I can't hold back anymore."
He really was about to lose control.
I felt it—chaos and heat rolling off him in waves, his breath uneven, his pulse feral. This was what a werewolf looked like right before he broke. If I didn't intervene… he wouldn't survive the night.
I bit down hard on my lip, forcing my voice to steady.
"Let me help you. Really. I can ease the pain. I can calm your wolf. I—"
"Right now," he murmured as he leaned in, his breath brushing my cheek, "the only thing I need is you."
"That's not what I meant—!"
I thrashed harder, twisting beneath him, trying to wrench myself free. But he didn't move. He was solid—unyielding—like iron forged around me.
In the middle of that almost frantic struggle, something hit me—
A jolt of wrongness.
A strange sensation stirred deep inside me. It started as a faint warmth, like someone had lit a tiny spark in my core. Then it spread, fast—racing through my veins, climbing up my chest, my throat, flooding my whole body in an instant.
I sucked in a sharp breath.
What was happening to me?
This feeling… I'd never experienced anything like it.
"You—" He froze, his brow drawing tight as if he sensed it too. "Your aura… it's shifting."
There was caution in his voice now, cutting through the earlier forcefulness. Gold flashed in his eyes—not wild this time, but bewildered. Shocked.
And I—
My heartbeat was careening out of control, pounding as if something inside me was waking up, stretching, taking its first breath.
"This isn't… normal," I managed, my voice shaking from the heat pulsing beneath my skin. "I shouldn't… feel like this…"
He stared down at me, his breathing heavy—though none of it felt like desire anymore.
It was shock.
A stunned refusal to believe what he was sensing.
"Your body is reacting to my wolf," he murmured, voice low, almost as if he were speaking to himself, "but this… this isn't how a healer reacts."
His movements stilled completely, his palm sliding to my side, pressing there with unexpected gentleness, as though he were confirming a suspicion.
"What are you?"
I went rigid.
Then he lowered his head, burying his face against my neck. He inhaled softly—slowly—his breath warm against my skin, almost like a kiss.
The air stopped moving.
"You smell… incredible," he said, voice low and rough, a magnetic rumble that sent a shiver through me.
I nearly lost control of myself.
Panic flared. I tried to shove him away, but my hands felt weak, useless.
"Don't move." His voice was a quiet thunder against my ear, vibrating down my spine. His breath washed over my neck, carrying a command I felt more than heard.
"Let me go!" I pushed at him again, but he didn't react—only leaned closer, overwhelming.
"I told you," he said, unapologetic, unbothered by my fear, "I prefer when you help me like this."
The next moment, his weight settled fully over me. I could only endure it—endure him—my heart hammering against my ribs as if trying to escape. I clawed at his shirt, desperate for leverage, but he didn't budge. Not even an inch.