The forest was engulfed in silence and quietness. The kind of quietness that announced the presence of the predators listening ears.
Gently, Aria pressed her back against the damp bark of an oak, clutching onto the half-conscious stranger by the arm. His weight was heavy, almost crushing but her conscience wouldn't let her be. "Gosh, you're way heavier than you look," she muttered through clenched teeth.
His low groan intuitively rolled down her spine like thunder. Even bleeding and fading, there was something untamed about him. She felt his pulse beat wildly beneath her fingertips and his skin burned unnaturally hot .
Aria's mind screamed at her to leave him. He was a stranger. Worse; a wolf from a rival pack. The thought of it screamed trouble in every possible form. She badly wanted let go of him but her heart: it kept betraying her.
That damn scent, smoke and storm—wrapped around her like invisible chains.
She shoved her shoulder under his arm and dragged him deeper into the shadow towards the ruined hunter's cabin she'd used for spells and solitude. Every step felt like a battle between sense and something primal.
As their backs swiftly disappeared into the woods, the loud howls and fierce pants of the pack could be heard in the distance. Right at the spot where Aria and Damien had stood, their search carried on.
She immediately dogged ahead. As quietly as she could, she managed their route away from them; not exposing a hint of their presence.
And with luck on their side, they made it out.
********************************
The world outside the forest felt louder and sharper while they threaded on, but all Aria could make out was the echo of his heartbeat. Steady now, yet laced with something dark.
Carefully, Aria walked ahead as she guided him through the paths of the trees, cautious not to let her scent trail too close.
"Almost there," she whispered, more to herself than to him.
"Where are you taking me?" Damien's voice trembled after a few distance; rougher than before. As if the forest had carved it from stone.
"Somewhere safe," She muttered without looking back.
Down near the western ridge, laid hidden her cottage. Quite far from the patrol paths. A place where no one knew about, and no one would ever take a guess. But now he did, which in a second thought, made her feel vulnerable. It was as if her covers had been blown. Of which she had no other choice.
His head lolled against her hair and he smelled her. "You smell like… rain," he rasped and Aria froze at his words.
She felt his raw, deep and ungeared voice scrap against her defense. "You shouldn't be able to talk," she shot back, trying to keep her tone cold. "You're half dead."
Aria shot back and he managed a weak chuckle that sounded far too alive. "Then you shouldn't be able to smell this good."
"Shut up." Her pulse stuttered.
Soon she saw the cabin loom ahead. Their journey eventually came to a halt and finally, Aria stopped right in front of the caged-like tomb, molded into a house. Small and worn with its door hanging crooked.
She instinctively kicked it open with her boot while she half dragged, half carried him inside, lowering him onto the cot in the corner. He landed with a grunt, still managing that infuriating half-smirk.
Her protection spells weren't meant to let wolves in. Yet, somehow… he crossed without resistance. "That shouldn't have been possible, right" She thought but found no answers as to how he was able to cross with so much ease. Yet, she knew it wasn't the right time for all that.
What matters now, was how to get him out of there as soon as possible so not to ace any further cross roads in each other's path.
With the door slammed shut, she lit a single lantern which sparked through the room.
Aria knelt beside him, rolling up her sleeves. Her fingers hovered above the torn flesh along his ribs. The gashes were deep, but already beginning to knit together unnaturally fast. He was healing. Of course he was.
"Who attacked you?" she demanded, more sharply than she intended.
His eyes cracked open, catching hers. For a heartbeat, gold flared in their depths—feral and breathtaking. "Someone will kill you if they find me here."
Her breath hitched. The smart thing would've been to throw him back into the forest and bolt the door. But she dipped the cloth back into the basin instead and began wiping away the blood.
"You're trouble," she murmured.
His fingers shot out and caught her wrist, not to hurt her—just to hold. His touch burned, the mate bond snapping like a wire pulled too tight. Their eyes locked. It wasn't just this time. It was a promise. A warning. A pull neither of them fully understood.
"I'm your trouble," he whispered hoarsely.
Keeping her breath even, Aria helped him onto the couch. His shirt clung to him, torn where claws had raked his chest. The scent of blood mixed with cedar and storm—a scent that made her wolf pace beneath her skin.
"You live here?" he asked, his eyes scanning through the dim room. Not yet ready to comprehend her reason of isolation.
"It's temporary." She nonchalantly said without further explanation; stepping away towards the kitchen counters.
"Hidden," he murmured, almost impressed.
Nearing the counter, Aria reached for the bandages; hoping he wouldn't notice the tremor in her fingers. But she could feel his gaze. It burned, heavy and possessive. Like it belonged to someone who had already claimed her.
"Why did you save me?" he suddenly asked.
She froze for a moment. "Why did I? "Aria wondered.
On a second thought, she regrated her decision. He was the Alpha of the Silvermoon Pack, the same one who hunted rogues like her. She should've let him bleed out in that forest. But then, she couldn't had brought herself to do that.
"You were dying," she said flatly, avoiding eye contact. "Even Alphas die, you know?"
Damien tilted his head while studying her; as if peeling back layers she'd spent years building. His golden eyes spontaneously caught onto the flicker of candlelight—predatory, unreadable, yet, searching.
"You're not like the others."
"No," she whispered as she kneeled down to clean his wound. "I'm worse…you're quite a talker, I noticed." She added but he just feigned a smile.
Just when her fingers brushed his skin, something inside her flared—heat, wild and unwanted. His muscles instinctively tensed, not in pain, but in recognition. A low growl rumbled in his chest, sending shivers down her spine.
Damien's gaze wasn't just looking at her. It was pulling at her, threading through every heartbeat and ounce of resistance she'd built over the years. And his golden eyes burned like molten light beneath the shadows of the forest.
The moment stretched, fragile and endless, as the world around them fell away.
And the bond; it snapped between them like a whip. His hand involuntary shot up, catching her wrist. "Who are you?" he growled, voice rough and laced with something more primal than rage.
Aria's heart ceased, forgetting to breath in the moment. Her saliva choked in her throat; she should've pulled away or shifted and run. But instead, met his gaze head-on. A cough momentarily broke the silence. "No one," she lied.
"No one doesn't smell like my mate." His eyes darkened to amber. And the moonlight outside in the clearing became heavy, silver-washed and still.
Aria's eyes remained locked with his; everything inside her shifted. She felt the air around them thickened, her breath remained caught. It was like the air forgot how to breathe.
Only a single thought seared itself into her mind. "Mate." The word wrapped around her like invisible chains. Wolves lived and died by that word and she never wanted to hear it; especially not from him.
Intuitively, Aria's wolf surged against her ribs. Desperate and wild; and she stumbled back a step. As if distance could undo what the moon had already written.
"You're wrong," she hissed, jerking free from his gaze. "I don't belong to anyone."
His lips instinctively curved with faint yet dangerous smile. "Then why does your heartbeat answer mine?" He queried, quite senile; and before she could move, he had leaned closer—not touching, just near enough that his scent wrapped around her.
Even though wounded, he carried the weight of command in every stride. Wild, powerful and inescapable. The scent of pine, storm, and power wrapped around her, stronger now—almost suffocating. He stopped only a breath away. Too close. Too dangerous.
Her wolf howled inside her chest and she stumbled back, knocking over a lantern. The flame sputtered which casted dancing shadows on the walls. This was wrong and dangerous. She couldn't afford to feel this. Not for him.
But the bond didn't care what she wanted.
His hand lifted slowly, not touching, just hovering near her jaw. They felt it flare between them like fire, kindling- lighting her veins in silver heat. Aria's breath hitched and he noticed.
"Say it," he murmured, voice low, husky. "You feel it too."
She shook her head to his request, but her body betrayed her. Her pulse synced with his while her wolf's howl echoed his heartbeat. She wanted to turn and run, but her feet wouldn't move. "You're wrong," she whispered.
Damien's lips twitched into the kind of smile that wasn't soft—it was claiming. "No. I've waited too long to ever be wrong about this." Her pulse thundered as his eyes flicked to the curve of her throat, then back to his. The mate bond wasn't gentle. It was raw, demanding and possessive. It didn't ask for permission but rather, it takes. And she felt it too.
The wind shifted and the moon broke through the trees. In that silver glow, their wolves kept stirring; two halves of something old and unbreakable.
Damien's voice was low when he spoke again. "I really don't mind having a rogue as a mate" His obsession took the better of him and for once, Aria forced herself to step back.
"I don't belong to anyone," she hissed, but it sounded weak even to her own ears. She saw him chortle, tilting his head. His glint burned bright. "No, little wolf," he said softly yet dangerously, "you belong to me."
For some reason, Aria hated the way his voice slid under her skin. She hated how her chest burned at the thought of turning away. But more than anything; she hated the way her soul recognized him.
The mate bond snapped again, pulling harder this time. She gasped, clutching at her chest as the ache grew. His hands brushed hers—not enough to touch fully, but enough to let the bond ignite. A spark, a flame. A wildfire that neither of them could stop. Her breath trembled out of her.
Damien leaned close enough for the moonlight to trace the edges of his sharp jaw and blood-streaked collarbone. "Run if you want," he whispered. "I'll find you. "He assured.
Her throat went dry and she trembled with terror but the terrifying part wasn't the threat. It was the promise.
For a moment, the world outside—the danger, the hunters, the rival packs—faded. It was just them. A witch and a wounded wolf; bound by something neither of them asked for.
She yanked her wrist free, stepping back as if distance would douse the fire inside her. "Rest," she muttered. "And then you're leaving."
But his smirk returned, soft and dangerous. "We'll see."
Outside, the wind howled through the trees. Somewhere out there, enemies were moving closer. But inside that small cabin, the real danger lay stretched out on her bed; gold eyes half-lidded, heartbeat thrumming in perfect rhythm with hers.
And she hated how good it felt. "And in that moment, she knew — trouble had a name, and it was him."