When Anya returned home after her shift, the night had already settled in. The soft glow of the lights inside the house greeted her as she stepped through the door, her body slightly tired from the long day, but her mind still unsettled from everything that had happened earlier.
She slipped off her shoes quietly and walked into the living room.
Then she stopped.
Alaric was there and beside him was the girl from the photo.
They were seated on the couch, both looking toward her as if they had been waiting for her arrival.
Anya's breath caught for a brief moment, her fingers tightening slightly around the strap of her bag. The image she had seen earlier flashed through her mind again, overlapping with the reality in front of her.
Alaric stood up immediately.
"Explain," he said, his voice cold and controlled, though the tension beneath it was unmistakable.
Wendy rose as well, her earlier confidence completely gone. She walked toward Anya slowly, her posture hesitant, her expression nervous in a way that made it clear she understood the weight of what she had done.
"Hi," Wendy began, her voice careful. "I'm Alaric's cousin… Wendy Stone."
Anya remained still, her gaze fixed on her, waiting.
"I was the one who answered your call this afternoon," Wendy continued, her words coming out faster now. "I lied to you when I said he was showering… and I was the one who sent you that photo. I did it on purpose."
The confession hung in the air.
"It was meant to be a joke," Wendy added quickly, her voice softening with guilt. "I didn't think it would hurt you like that. I'm really sorry. Please forgive me."
Anya did not respond immediately.
She stood there, absorbing every word, her mind slowly piecing everything together.
So it was a misunderstanding.
The girl in the photo was not someone Alaric was involved with.
She was his cousin.
Nothing had happened.
The tightness that had been suffocating her chest all day loosened slightly, though the emotional weight of everything she had felt did not disappear so easily.
After a moment, she finally spoke.
"Why would you do that?" she asked quietly, her tone more confused than angry.
Wendy hesitated, then gave a small, awkward smile that did not quite reach her eyes. "I heard things about you," she admitted. "And I thought my cousin was moving too slowly. I figured maybe I could… push things along a little."
"That's enough," Alaric cut in sharply, his voice firm as he stepped forward slightly. "You can go back now."
Wendy flinched slightly at his tone, then looked back at Anya one more time.
"I really am sorry," she said sincerely. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
Anya shook her head gently. "I don't blame you," she replied, her voice soft but steady.
Wendy let out a small breath of relief before glancing at Alaric. "I've fixed the mess I created," she said quickly, almost as if seeking confirmation, then turned and hurried out of the house without waiting for a response.
The door closed behind her.
Silence settled over the room.
Anya lowered her gaze, the weight of the day finally catching up to her now that the truth had been revealed. Without saying anything further, she stepped forward, intending to walk past Alaric and head upstairs.
But before she could move far, his hand reached out and gently caught her wrist.
"Anya," he said, his voice softer now.
She stopped.
Slowly, she turned back to face him.
"I'm sorry," he said, the words coming without hesitation. "I didn't know she would do something like that. She ran away from home last night and showed up here this morning. My parents asked me to take care of her today, and I left her here for a while. I didn't think…"
His voice trailed off, frustration flickering across his expression.
"I didn't think she would involve you," he finished quietly.
Anya looked at him, her eyes searching his face.
"I'm really fine now," she said softly.
But even as she said it, there was something lingering beneath her words.
Alaric noticed.
He stepped closer, his gaze steady. "Then tell me," he said gently. "How did you feel when you saw her?"
The question caught her off guard.
Anya hesitated, her eyes lowering slightly as she struggled to find the right words.
"I didn't feel good," she finally admitted. "I thought… maybe I was too late."
The vulnerability in her voice made something in Alaric's chest tighten.
Without another word, he reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her gently but firmly closer to him. The sudden closeness made her breath hitch slightly, her hands instinctively resting against his chest.
"Anya," he said softly, his voice low and steady, "would you be my girlfriend?"
She looked up at him, startled.
"I know I told you I would give you time," he continued, his gaze unwavering, "and that I would wait. But I don't want to lose you. I don't want to stand here and watch something else take you away from me."
Her heart pounded, the words settling deeply within her.
"Alaric…" she whispered.
"I'm done pretending I can be patient about this," he added quietly. "Not when it comes to you."
Anya's chest tightened, but this time it was not from pain.
"I don't want to lose you either," she said softly.
Before she could overthink it, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around him, holding onto him as if grounding herself in the decision she had just made.
"I've always liked you," she confessed against his chest, her voice quieter now but certain. "I just didn't realize it properly until now. I want to be part of your life… not just like before, but officially."
Alaric's arms tightened around her instantly, pulling her closer as relief and something deeper settled within him.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then slowly, he exhaled, his hand coming up to rest gently against the back of her head.
"I'm glad," he murmured.
But even as he held her, something in his expression shifted.
A quiet seriousness returned. He loosened his hold just enough to look at her properly, his gaze steady, almost searching.
"There's something I need to tell you," he said.
His tone had changed.
And Anya could feel it that whatever he was about to say, it mattered.
*****
Alaric did not say anything further in the living room. Instead, he gently took Anya's hand and led her upstairs, his grip steady, as if guiding her toward something he had already decided could no longer be delayed. She followed quietly, her heart still unsettled from everything that had happened, but now mixed with a growing sense of anticipation she could not quite explain.
When they reached his room, he closed the door behind them.
Alaric walked over to his desk and opened one of the lower drawers. From within, he carefully pulled out a thick, aged book. Its cover was worn, the edges slightly frayed, and the pages inside carried a faint yellow tint that spoke of time and history.
He held it for a moment before turning back to her.
"This," he said quietly, placing it on the table between them, "is my family's history."
Anya stepped closer, her eyes drawn to the book, curiosity beginning to replace the lingering unease in her chest. "Your family history?" she asked softly.
Alaric nodded, his expression serious but calm. "There's something you need to understand about me. About my family."
He paused briefly, as if choosing his words carefully, then met her gaze.
"We're not… ordinary," he said.
Anya's brows knit slightly, confusion flickering across her face. "What do you mean?"
Alaric rested his hand lightly on the book. "My family," he continued, "we are descendants of werewolves."
The words settled in the room.
For a moment, Anya did not react. It was as if her mind needed time to process what she had just heard, to reconcile it with everything she knew about him.
"Werewolves…?" she repeated slowly, her voice uncertain.
Alaric nodded once. "It's real," he said simply. "And it's what I am."
Silence followed.
Anya's gaze searched his face, looking for any sign that he was joking, any hint that this was not serious. But there was none. His expression remained steady, grounded in truth.
"That's not possible…" she murmured, though her voice lacked conviction.
"It is," he replied gently. "And I should have told you sooner."
She took a small step back, her mind racing now, trying to piece together moments that had never quite made sense before.
"Then… when you were sick," she said suddenly, looking up at him again, "that time when you left Westbridge for a couple of weeks… that wasn't just an illness, was it?"
Alaric's gaze softened slightly. "No," he admitted. "That was when I shifted for the first time."
Anya's breath caught.
The memory came back clearly now. The sudden news, the way he had disappeared so abruptly, the unease she had felt without understanding why.
"You mean…" she started, her voice quieter now, "that was real?"
"Yes," he said. "My body was changing. I couldn't stay there. I had to go back to Central City to learn how to control it."
Anya shook her head slightly, overwhelmed but unable to stop herself from asking more. "And… I remembered your mum mentioned something about soulmate."
Alaric nodded, stepping closer again, though he gave her enough space not to overwhelm her.
"In our kind," he explained, "every wolf has the instinct to recognize their mate. It's not something we choose. It's something we feel."
He hesitated briefly before continuing, his voice lowering slightly.
"That's what happened when I met you."
Anya froze.
"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I recognized you," he said. "When we were six."
Her eyes widened.
"At six?" she repeated, disbelief clear in her tone.
Alaric gave a small nod. "I didn't understand it fully back then," he admitted. "But I felt it. Something about you was different. Familiar in a way I couldn't explain."
He looked at her steadily.
"As I grew older, that feeling became clearer. Stronger."
Anya's heart began to race, the weight of his words settling deeper with each second.
"You knew?" she asked softly. "All this time… you knew I was your soulmate?"
"Yes," he said without hesitation.
She stared at him, her emotions shifting rapidly between shock, confusion, and something deeper she could not name.
"How?" she asked. "How can you be so sure?"
Alaric took a slow breath before answering.
"Your scent," he said quietly. "And the bond."
Anya blinked, clearly not understanding.
"It's something only I can feel," he continued. "A connection that ties us together. It's always there, even when we're apart. I can sense your emotions sometimes. I can feel when something is wrong."
Her mind flickered back to moments she had brushed off before. The way he always seemed to know when she needed him. The way he appeared without explanation.
"And that's why you came to the cafe today…" she said slowly.
Alaric nodded. "I felt something shift. I knew it was you."
Anya looked down at her hands, her thoughts tangled.
"But… you said this usually happens later?" she asked after a moment.
Alaric nodded again. "Most wolves don't recognize their mate until they're at least eighteen. Sometimes even later."
"And you…" she started.
"I found you much earlier," he finished quietly.
The room fell silent again.
Anya lifted her gaze to meet his, her expression still filled with disbelief, but no longer rejecting what he was saying.
"So everything… all these years…" she murmured.
Alaric stepped closer, his voice soft but steady.
"It was never a coincidence," he said. "Not for me."
Anya felt her breath catch again.
Because for the first time, she realized that what she had thought was simply years of familiarity, of growing up together, might have meant something far deeper to him all along.
Alaric stood before her, the weight of everything he had just revealed still lingering in the air between them.
"So after telling you all of this," he said quietly, his voice steady but carrying a depth she could feel, "are you still willing to be with me, Anya?"
The question was simple, yet it held years of restraint, of waiting, of unspoken fear.
Anya looked up at him.
For a moment, she said nothing. Her thoughts were no longer tangled with confusion the way they had been before. Instead, what she saw in his eyes grounded her completely. There was no hesitation in him, no doubt, only sincerity that reached her without resistance.
Slowly, a soft smile formed on her lips.
She stepped closer.
Rising onto her toes, she tried to close the distance between them, her intention clear even if her height made it impossible to reach where she wanted. Her lips brushed clumsily against his chin instead, the attempt almost shy, yet filled with quiet courage.
Alaric froze for a fraction of a second, caught off guard by her action.
Then something in his expression softened.
Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, one hand settling gently at her waist as he bent down to meet her properly. This time, when his lips touched hers, it was intentional, slow, and filled with everything he had been holding back.
The kiss was gentle. His lips moved softly against hers, giving her time to respond, to understand, to feel.
Anya's breath caught, her fingers curling lightly against his chest as she leaned into him.
When he finally pulled back, it was only slightly, his forehead nearly resting against hers as he looked into her eyes.
"Alaric," she said softly, her voice steady despite the warmth rising in her cheeks, "no matter what you are… I just know that I want to be with you right now. I'm willing to face anything with you."
The words settled deep within him.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then a quiet, almost disbelieving smile touched his lips, and his voice lowered as he spoke.
"Anya… you have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that."
There was a faint tremor beneath his words.
Anya noticed it immediately.
Her expression softened when she noticed the faint shine in his eyes, something rare breaking through his usual calm. Without thinking, she reached up and gently wiped it away with her thumb.
Seeing him like this made her chest tighten in a way she could not explain.
Before she could say anything else, Alaric leaned down again, closing the distance between them once more. This time, the kiss carried more certainty, more depth. His hand slid up from her waist to rest lightly against her back, holding her closer as if afraid she might slip away if he did not.
Anya responded instinctively, her hands rising to rest against his shoulders, steadying herself as she leaned into him. The warmth between them deepened, no longer uncertain, but still gentle in the way they held each other, as if both were learning this new closeness together.
Alaric's hold on her remained firm yet careful, his hand at her back drawing her just a little closer, enough for him to feel her heartbeat against him.
The kiss lingered. His lips parted slightly against hers, then pressed again. When he finally pulled back, it was slow, as if reluctant to break the moment. His forehead rested lightly against hers, his breath still warm against her skin. His hand remained at her back, unwilling to let go completely.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Anya's fingers curled slightly against his shoulders, her gaze lifting to meet his. There was no hesitation in her expression now, only a quiet certainty that had replaced all the doubt she carried earlier.
"You scared me today," she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Alaric's expression shifted, a hint of regret crossing his features. His hand moved gently from her back to her arm, his touch soft, almost apologetic.
"I know," he said quietly. "And I'm sorry you had to go through that because of something I didn't even realize was happening."
Anya shook her head slightly. "It wasn't just that," she said. "It made me realize how much you matter to me."
Her words settled between them, simple but honest.
Alaric's gaze softened, something deeper flickering in his eyes as he looked at her. He lifted his hand again, brushing lightly against her cheek, his thumb tracing a small, careful motion as if memorizing the moment.
"You matter to me more than anything," he said, his voice low but steady.
Anya felt her chest tighten, though this time it was not from confusion or pain.
It was warmth.
She leaned into his touch without thinking, her eyes closing briefly as she let herself rest in the quiet closeness between them. For the first time in a long while, everything felt clear, as if the distance and misunderstandings that had been building between them had finally fallen away.
Alaric watched her for a moment, then gently pulled her into another embrace. His chin rested lightly against the top of her head, his arms wrapped around her in a way that felt protective and certain.
Anya relaxed into him, her hands settling at his sides as she held onto him just as tightly.