Adrian
Try me
Those words echo in the silence of the room long after they leave his lips. Bold. Stupid. Brave. So very him.
Jamie.
He will be the death of me. I look at him now, on my bed, rubbing all over my sheets, and all I want is to claim him. Fuck him until the sass leaves him completely. He is wearing my shirt. Only my shirt, and it's so big for him that it falls to his knees. He makes my home feel...
I don't know...
Like I finally have something.
I should shut it down. Push him back, lock the door, and let him sleep off the heat still coiling under his skin. That would be the smart move. The safe move. He controlled his transformation yesterday. I have never seen a new wolf do that. Stop the change before it happens.
He would have died if he had turned when his body wasn't ready.
His body isn't ready right now.
I almost lost it yesterday.
I could've lost him.
He's still watching me. Waiting for me to give in to his commands. I have never been one to be told what to do. I am the Alpha. My wolf isn't designed to take orders. But when he looks at me like that. Wide-eyed, trembling, and refusing to back down, my control shifts. My wolf pushes forward, snarling for me to give him. To tell him. To claim him.
I drag in a breath through my teeth, forcing it down. I can't. Not yet. Not when the truth would tear his world apart. He is not ready. He won't be able to handle the truth.
"You don't know what you're asking," I say, my voice rougher than I want it to be.
"Then tell me," he shoots back. His pulse is racing so loud I can hear it. "Tell me what's wrong with me. Tell me why I feel like this. Tell me why you..." He breaks off, swallowing, but the meaning lingers in the air between us. Why I can't stop watching you? Why I can't stop wanting you?
The air between us is charged, electric. My wolf is desperate for some contact. There's nothing it wants more than Jamie. I force it back, jaw tight.
"Rest," I growl, softer now, but no less commanding. "We'll talk more later."
I should step away. Put distance between us before I lose control completely. But I don't. Instead, I move closer. His eyes track me, wide, searching, and I can hear his pulse racing, sharp, frantic, alive. My hand lifts before I can stop it, fingers brushing back the messy strands of hair that have fallen into his face. His skin is fever-warm under my knuckles.
He doesn't pull away. If anything, he leans into the touch, just barely, like he's been waiting for it. The subtle press of trust makes my chest ache.
For a moment, I let myself look, really look. The curve of his jaw, the stubborn tilt of his mouth, the raw confusion written in his eyes. My wolf quiets under it, not gone, but softer, humming low in approval.
I want to tell him. I want to say mine, to let him know what this bond already means, what it will always mean.
But I can't. Not yet.
So I let my hand fall, curling it into a fist before I give in to what I want.
"Sleep," I say again, voice rougher now, betraying more than it should. "You'll need your strength."
Jamie swallows, eyes never leaving mine. "And what about you?"
The question knocks something loose in my chest. No one has ever shown this much interest in my well-being. It's almost a breath of fresh air. My wolf surges forward, snarling for me to answer, to confess.
Instead, I force out, "I'll manage."
The door creaks before he can argue.
"Adrian." Luca's voice, sharp and low.
Of course.
I don't look away from Jamie, though. His gaze clings to mine, wide and wounded, like I've just ripped the ground out from under him. My chest twists. I almost go back. Almost explain.
But I can't. Not yet.
I step into the hall, shutting the door behind me.
The door closes behind me, and Luca's already waiting, jaw tight, eyes sharp.
"You're unravelling," he says, voice low, dangerous. "I saw the way you looked at him. You can barely keep control, Adrian. If your wolf pushes any harder..."
"I have control," I snap.
"Do you?" His gaze doesn't waver. "Because it doesn't look like control to me. It looks like an obsession. And obsession gets people killed."
My wolf bristles, but I force my voice calm, flat. "You think I'd let anything happen to him?"
"That's exactly the problem." Luca steps closer, his tone clipped. "You'd burn the world to protect him. I've followed you long enough to know what that means. The elders won't let this stand. When they call for his head and they will, what will you do?"
The answer comes without hesitation. "I'll choose him."
Luca's jaw tightens. "Over the pack?"
"Over anyone."
For a long moment, the hall is thick with silence. My wolf paces just under my skin, restless, hungry, alive. Luca finally exhales, shaking his head. "You've already decided. God help you when the council learns what you've done."
Maybe God will. Maybe not.
But as I glance back toward the closed door, I know one thing for certain: no elder, no rogue, no law is going to take Jamie from me. Not while I breathe.
***
The day goes by in a blur as I try to find out more about who is trying to turn wolves. My thoughts keep circling to the same place. Upstairs, where Jamie is, the scent of him is tangled in my sheets like he belongs there.
Ethan is back from a trip to the borders. He is supposed to come back with information. Someone from the neighbouring packs must have some information. By late afternoon, I step outside just as Ethan pulls up, dust on his boots, the hard set of his shoulders telling me enough before he even speaks.
"You're back," I say.
"Yeah." He shakes his head, wiping his brow. "Border runs were quiet. Too quiet. Neighbouring packs don't know much, or they're not saying." His tone sharpens. "But something's moving out there. We've had two bodies, Adrian. Both bitten. Both human. This isn't random."
My jaw tightens. "Rogues."
"Not just rogues," he says grimly. "This is organised. Controlled. Someone's trying to build something, and they're starting with humans."
The words settle heavily in my gut.
"Did you hear anything about who?" I ask.
Ethan exhales hard. "Rumours. Whispers about a splinter pack working in the shadows. No names. No proof. Just fear."
Fear. That's always how it starts.
I glance back at the house, to the window where the curtains are drawn. Where Jamie is. My wolf stirs uneasily, protective.
"Keep pressing," I tell Ethan. "Find out who's behind it. If someone's making wolves, I need to know why. And how far they're willing to go."
Ethan nods, but his eyes flick to the house, to me. He can sense Jamie, and if he can, then more people in the pack would. There would be questions and challenges. He doesn't ask the question; he doesn't need to. He's already guessed who's at the centre of my distraction.
Just as I go back into the house after a long day, a knock comes. Not a polite one. Sharp, confident, and the scent is strong. I already know who it is before I even open the door.
Marissa.
When I open the door, she's already smiling, that practised tilt of her lips, her perfume curling too sweet around her like a weapon.
"Adrian," she says, stepping past me without invitation, heels clicking against the hardwood. "You've been impossible to reach."
"Busy," I reply flatly, shutting the door.
She turns, her gaze flicking over me in that way it always does, like I'm hers, like I've ever been hers. Even though she knows that whatever we had was not serious. I made it clear from the beginning, and she agreed to my terms. In fact, at the time, I thought it was what she wanted too.
It's normal for wolves to fuck around until they find their mates.
That's what we were doing.
That was the deal. But lately, she seems to think that there could be more between us and that's a problem for me.
"Too busy for me? That doesn't sound like the man I used to know."
"You don't know me," I say, sharper than I intend.
Her smile only deepens, like she enjoys the bite. She steps closer, brushing a hand against my arm. "I've missed you. We were good together, Adrian. Everyone knows it. My father still says—"
I catch her wrist before she can press further. My voice drops, cold. "Don't."
Her father hates me.
He wants me to put down as the Alpha, and this mistake... fucking her. It could be my downfall. I need to nip this in the bud right now.
For a heartbeat, her mask cracks. But she recovers quickly, eyes narrowing. "So it's true then. You've found someone else."
The silence stretches. My grip loosens, but I don't look away.
She laughs softly, bitter. "Of course. That explains why you're hiding. Why you're so… on edge. Who is she?"
Before I can respond, the creak of the stairs cuts through the tension.
I glance up. Jamie.
He's halfway down, my shirt hanging loose, hair messy from sleep. His eyes flick from me to Marissa, confusion written all over his face.
Marissa follows my gaze, her smile sharpening. "Oh."
Jamie shifts awkwardly, clearly catching the edge in the air. "I—uh—sorry. Didn't mean to…" He trails off, turning like he'll go back upstairs.
"Jamie," I say before I can stop myself. My voice is softer than I want it to be. He freezes, looking back at me.
For a heartbeat, I expect him to yield. He should. My command isn't just words. it carries weight, the authority of an Alpha. No one ignores it.
But Jamie does.
His jaw clenches, and instead of backing down, he turns on his heel. His footsteps pound against the stairs as he storms back up, shoulders tight, anger burning off him like fire.
"Jamie," I growl.
He doesn't stop. Doesn't even look back. He slams the door to my room behind him, and the sound rips through the house like a challenge.
Marissa lets out a low, satisfied laugh. "Well," she purrs. "That was… interesting."
I whip around, every nerve raw, every instinct vibrating with restraint. "Get out."
She blinks, taken aback by the sharpness in my tone. "Adrian—"
"Now."
Something in my voice must hit home, because her smirk falters. She lifts her chin, dignity barely holding, and storms out without another word.
The silence she leaves behind is suffocating. My wolf is restless, pacing, furious that I let Jamie walk away like that, furious that I didn't just tell him the truth.
By the time I reach the top of the stairs, my pulse is a steady roar in my ears. I stop outside the closed door, his scent heavy in the air.
I should give him space. Let him cool down, let myself cool down. But the thought of him upstairs, furious and hurting and convinced I don't care.
No. I can't.
I push the door open.
Jamie's by the window, his back to me, shoulders rigid. The anger rolling off him is thick enough to choke on.
"You can't ignore me when I tell you to stop," I say, quieter now, but edged with steel.
His laugh is bitter, broken. "Watch me."
The words sting, sharper than claws. And for the first time in years, I realise just how little control I actually have, not over him, not over myself.