CHAPTER 8. Midnight’s Teeth
1607 Words
The glow in Stefani’s palms faded, but its echo lingered like a phantom spark beneath her skin—warm, unfamiliar, alive.
She sat on the heavy fur rug in front of the fire while Giovanni knelt in front of her, his jaw tense, his eyes sharp with fear he was trying—and failing—to hide.
“Tell me again what you felt,” he said, fingers light on her wrist as though he feared she might break.
Stefani inhaled shakily. “Like… something inside me stretching after a long sleep. Like being plugged into a power outlet.”
Giovanni’s eyes flashed. “And before today—no strange sensations? No inexplicable instincts? No childhood incidents?”
She hesitated.
He caught the hesitation instantly. “Stefani.”
“A few,” she whispered. “But I… always found logical reasons. Once when I was younger I knew someone was lying before they spoke. And sometimes, when I got extremely upset, lights flickered. My mother said it was static. My nurse instructors called it intuition.”
Giovanni sat back on his heels, running a hand through his hair.
“It wasn’t intuition,” he said. “It was suppressed magic.”
Stefani’s stomach tightened. “But you’re the supernatural one, not me.”
He shook his head, eyes fixed on her like she was the most fragile and dangerous thing he’d ever seen.
“No, Stefani. You’re something else. Something not human—but not wolf. Something rare enough that a rival Alpha crossed a mountain for it.”
She swallowed. “And you?”
Pain flickered across his expression.
“I would cross a world for you.”
The fire cracked softly behind them.
Her breath hitched—not because of the words themselves, but because of how they sounded in his voice. Raw. Honest. Unarmored.
She looked away, pulse fluttering. “Giovanni… what happens at midnight?”
His jaw set with lethal resolve.
“He wants a dominance match. A traditional challenge between Alphas. Winner claims rights.” He paused. “Rights to territory. Rights to leadership. Rights to—”
“Me?” she finished quietly.
Giovanni’s whole body went rigid.
“No.” His voice dropped into a dangerous growl. “Not now. Not ever. Wolves do not own mates.”
“But Luca—”
“Luca is a tyrant. He wants power, not partnership.” His voice cracked with fury he was barely containing. “If he thinks he can use you as leverage to rise in rank—”
His hands balled into fists.
She touched one gently.
He froze.
“Giovanni,” she whispered, “you can’t fight him alone.”
His eyes closed, jaw clenching.
“He’s older than me,” Giovanni admitted. “More vicious. And strong.”
A beat. “But I have something he doesn’t.”
Her throat tightened. “What?”
“You,” he said softly.
Heat crept up her neck. “Giovanni, I’m not a weapon—”
“No.” He cupped her cheek. “You’re a reason.”
Her chest tightened so sharply she could barely breathe.
The fire crackled.
The wind moaned.
And between the two of them, breaths mingled—a shared rhythm, a shared fear, a shared something that grew stronger with every pounding heartbeat.
“Giovanni,” she whispered, “what does the bond do to you right now?”
He looked at her with open hunger and aching restraint.
“It pulls,” he said softly. “Every part of me leans toward you. Even my wolf.” He swallowed hard. “He’s pacing. Restless. Agitated because you are unmarked, unprotected, unclaimed.”
“Claimed?” she echoed, tremor chasing her spine.
He closed his eyes, pain flickering across his face. “Don’t mistake the word. Claiming is not ownership. It’s… connection. Shielding. Binding magic and instinct. It strengthens both wolves.”
A beat.
“And can kill a rival Alpha who tries to interrupt that connection.”
Her heart stopped.
“Kill?”
“Yes,” he murmured. “If we were bonded—fully—Luca wouldn’t dare challenge me tonight. He wouldn’t survive the attempt.”
She shut her eyes.
“Then… bond with me.”
His breath left him in a harsh, broken exhale. “Stefani.”
She met his gaze. “If it keeps you alive—”
“No.” His hand tightened around hers. “Never for that reason.”
“Giovanni—”
He leaned in, close enough that their noses brushed.
“You don’t tie your soul to someone out of fear,” he whispered. “Not even to save them.”
Her breath trembled at the gentle power in his voice.
“Then what do I do?” she breathed.
He kissed her forehead—soft, reverent, aching.
“You stay behind these walls. You wait for me. And you trust that I will return.”
She grabbed his shirt. “What if you don’t?”
He cupped her face, thumbs brushing her cheekbones.
“I will,” he whispered fiercely. “I swear it.”
A sudden rumble of wind slammed against the shutters. Giovanni jerked his head toward the sound, nostrils flaring.
“He’s moving closer,” he muttered.
Stefani swallowed. “How far?”
“Two hundred meters. He’s testing the boundary. Trying to get me to shift early.”
She stood. “Giovanni… what if we leave? Right now?”
He shook his head.
“The storm’s too thick. And you—” He paused, aura sharpening as he inhaled. “Your scent is changing rapidly. He’ll track you faster than he tracks me.”
“How?” she whispered.
Giovanni turned fully toward her.
His voice dropped, soft and devastating.
“Because your magic is merging with mine.”
Her heart slammed.
“My… magic?”
“Yes.” He stepped closer, as if drawn. “The moment your aura flared, my wolf recognized it.” His voice dipped. “Recognized you.”
She inhaled sharply, overwhelmed.
He lifted his hand and hovered it near hers.
“May I?” he asked softly.
Her pulse hammered. “Yes.”
He slid his fingers through hers.
And the bond snapped like a spark.
Heat shot up her arm—warm, bright, almost euphoric.
Giovanni sucked in a breath. “Dio…”
“What?” she whispered, breathless.
He looked at her as though seeing her for the first time.
“You’re reacting to the bond like a wolf.”
“I’m not a wolf,” she whispered.
“Not fully,” he agreed, voice reverent. “But not human either.”
“Then what am I?” she whispered.
He brushed her jaw softly. “We’ll learn together.”
But the moment shattered when another howl rose outside—closer, sharper, throatier.
Giovanni went still.
“He’s circling the lodge.”
Stefani grabbed his arm. “Giovanni—don’t go yet. Please—”
He turned, brushing her cheek lightly with the back of his fingers.
“You don’t understand what it’s doing to me to hear you plead like that.”
“Then don’t leave me,” she whispered.
He swallowed hard, agony in his eyes. “I have to.”
Her voice cracked. “I’m scared.”
He exhaled softly, pulling her into his arms, holding her against the steady drum of his heartbeat as a swell of energy warm up around them.
“You have a right to be scared,” he murmured into her hair. “This world isn’t gentle. Magic isn’t gentle. And neither are wolves when it comes to protecting what matters.”
“What matters?” she whispered into his chest.
“You.” His hand tightened around her waist, voice shaking. “You matter.”
She lifted her head.
“Then let me help you.”
“You are helping me,” he said. “You’re giving me something to fight for.”
The heat between them surged, thick and dangerous.
She lifted her palm to his cheek. He leaned into it, closing his eyes with a soft, guttural sound.
“Stefani,” he whispered, “if I don’t walk away now… I’ll ruin all restraint.”
“Then stay,” she breathed.
He opened his eyes—wolf-bright, hungry, reverent.
“Don’t tempt me.”
Another howl sliced through the night.
Giovanni’s expression hardened.
“It’s time.”
Stefani’s heart crashed.
He pressed his forehead to hers one last time.
“If I fall—”
“You won’t,” she whispered fiercely.
“If I do,” he continued, “run. Use your magic. Find the northern witches. They will protect you.”
“I won’t need them,” she said. “Because you’re coming back.”
He cupped her jaw, kissing her—not on the lips, not yet, but beside them. Soft. Crushing. A promise and a goodbye in one breath.
“I will,” he whispered.
And then—
He stepped back.
His body blurred.
Shifted.
Expanded.
Bones realigned.
Fur erupted.
Magic crackled.
Where Giovanni stood, a massive wolf now towered—silver and gold, regal and terrifying, eyes burning with unwavering devotion.
Her breath hitched. “Giovanni…”
He padded toward the door, powerful and silent.
He looked back once.
Just once.
As if memorizing her.
Then he lunged into the storm as the world held its breath.
And Stefani realized—
She wasn’t just scared for him.
She was terrified for herself.
Because if Giovanni didn’t return from the midnight challenge…
Her very soul would break.
- Writer
