Aiden's Point of View I start to stir awake, but something feels off. My bed, usually warm and familiar, feels cold. Empty. That sensation spreads from my skin inward, sinking into my chest like a hollow weight. I shake my head, trying to push the feeling away, but it lingers. A deep, unsettling emptiness. With a sigh, I throw off the blankets and get out of bed, heading straight for the bathroom. I twist the taps, letting the water run hot, steam curling up around me as I step into the shower. The heat scalds my skin, but it does nothing to chase away the chill that’s settled inside me. I scrub harder, as if I can force the feeling away, but it clings to me. When I close my eyes, expecting to be haunted by the memory of Hazel, the rejection, the finality of it, I’m instead met with a different face. Crimson eyes. Pale skin. Dark hair like ink. The woman from the bar. Something about her lingers in my mind in a way that doesn’t feel natural. I don’t even remember her name
Hazel's Point of View The morning sunlight filters through the light curtains, casting a soft golden hue across the bedroom. I blink a few times, stretching slowly beneath the sheets before a wide grin spreads across my face. Today’s the day, my first lecture as an occult studies professor. Despite the restless dreams that tugged at me all night, Aiden’s face, his voice, the weight of his rejection, I feel a surge of excitement bubbling in my chest. I throw off the covers and swing my legs over the side of the bed, grabbing my phone from the nightstand and putting on one of my favorite upbeat playlists. The familiar rhythm instantly breathes energy into me. Humming along, I head into the kitchen. The apartment still feels new, but it's cozy, lived-in already. I start a pot of coffee, the comforting scent filling the air as I open the fridge and pull out the ingredients I bought yesterday, eggs, cheese, mushrooms, spinach, cherry tomatoes. Just what I need for the perfect omele
Aiden's Point of View I square off with Brock in the center of the training arena, the late morning sun beating down on us as we circle each other. The air smells like dust, sweat, and pine from the surrounding forest. Brock is one of our biggest and best warriors, solid as a mountain, fast for his size, and always a challenge I welcome. We trade blows, our sparring session starting like any other. Sometimes I strike first, testing his defense. Other times, I let him come at me, focusing on my footwork, blocking and redirecting his force. It’s clean, controlled... until it isn’t. Somewhere between the fifth and sixth round, something inside me cracks wide open. He lunges with another punch, and this time, I don’t just block it, I react. Instinct takes over. I grab his arm mid swing, twisting it behind his back with unnatural speed and precision. There’s a sharp crack that echoes through the arena, followed by Brock’s grunt of pain as he cradles his now broken arm to his chest.
Hazel's Point of View I stand at the front of the lecture hall, fingers wrapped lightly around the edge of the desk as students shuffle into their seats, the buzz of low chatter filling the space like a soft hum. My heart hammers in my chest, not from fear, but from a wild mix of nerves and excitement. The kind that coils in your belly and keeps you standing just a little taller. Sunlight spills in through the tall windows to my left, casting golden slashes across the rows of seats, and I take a breath that fills my lungs with the scent of coffee, paper, and a faint trace of chalk dust. My notes are arranged neatly on the desk, lesson plan, student list, a few references, everything perfectly in place, even if I don’t quite feel the same. The last of the students settle in, and the noise fades into an expectant silence. Dozens of eyes look up at me, some curious, some bored, a few skeptical, and for a split second, I question everything. What am I doing here? But then I remember,
Aiden's Point of View The first thing I register as I start to stir is the unfamiliar ceiling above me. A dull ache settles behind my eyes, the remnants of last night’s drinks, and for a second, I don’t remember where I am. Then I feel movement beside me. I turn my head and see her, the redhead from the bar, curled up beside me, her breathing soft and steady, her arm draped lazily over my chest. That’s when it all floods back in. The drinks, the flirting, the apartment. The distraction. Quietly, carefully, I ease her arm off me and sit up on the edge of the bed. The air is cool against my skin, and I keep still for a moment, staring at the floor like it might offer me a reason for last night, like it might help the guilt already starting to crawl its way in. I gather my clothes in silence, not bothering to look back at her. No need. This wasn’t meant to be anything more than what it was. I slip into my jeans, pull on my shirt, and make my way out of the bedroom, closing the door
Aiden's Point of View As I make my way towards the dining hall, the rich scent of roasted meat, herbs, and fresh bread hits me square in the gut, and my stomach growls loudly in response. I can’t even remember the last time I ate, everything after the fight with Brock is a blur of adrenaline, guilt, and exhaustion. It’s a strange relief to feel hunger again, like my body’s finally coming back online. When I step into the dining hall, I immediately notice the private table Abby has set off to the side. It’s decked out, more like a celebration than a casual lunch. The table’s dressed in soft white linen with a centerpiece of spring flowers, and a spread of food already set up buffet style nearby. Roasted chicken, buttery vegetables, fresh salads, and a tray of desserts sit neatly in their dishes. My curiosity spikes. I head straight for Abby, giving her a skeptical smirk. “Wow, you really went all out. So what’s the big news?” She beams up at me, clearly thrilled. “You’ll just ha
Hazel's Point of View Ugh… my back aches like I’ve been hit by a truck. I groan softly as I start to stir, feeling the telltale stiffness in my neck and shoulders. Lifting my head, it takes me a moment to realize where I am, slumped over my desk, surrounded by open grimoires and scattered notes. Perfect. Just perfect. Fell asleep mid research like some over caffeinated student, only I don’t even have the excuse of youth on my side anymore. I rub at my neck with a wince, blinking at the soft morning light filtering in through the window. My second lecture’s today, and here I am looking, and probably smelling, like a zombie. Great impression to make. Just what I needed. I glance at the grimoires and quickly flip a few pages to check. No drool, thank the stars. At least there's that. My eyes catch the wine glass still sitting beside the stack of books, a few sips of red still lingering in the bottom like a quiet reminder of last night’s desperation. I pick it up along with the empty
Hazel's Point of ViewThe afternoon sun casts a golden glow through the trees and over the ancient altar as I stand before it, ready to prove my coven wrong. My fingers brush over the smooth surface of the ritual stone, my heart pounding with anticipation. I silently run through the spell again, ensuring every word, every motion is precise. This is my moment.Then, chaos erupts.A blur of movement catches my eye as two massive wolves burst into the clearing, their snarls tearing through the silence. My breath hitches as my gaze locks onto the dark brown wolf. There’s something about him, something I can’t explain. But I don’t have time to dwell on the strange pull I feel towards him. More wolves emerge from the shadows, launching themselves into battle, teeth bared, claws slashing.I hesitate, my mind racing. I always believed all werewolves wanted the curse broken, yet here they are, fighting to stop me. Why?Before I can make sense of it, the brown wolf is suddenly in front of me, h
Hazel's Point of View Ugh… my back aches like I’ve been hit by a truck. I groan softly as I start to stir, feeling the telltale stiffness in my neck and shoulders. Lifting my head, it takes me a moment to realize where I am, slumped over my desk, surrounded by open grimoires and scattered notes. Perfect. Just perfect. Fell asleep mid research like some over caffeinated student, only I don’t even have the excuse of youth on my side anymore. I rub at my neck with a wince, blinking at the soft morning light filtering in through the window. My second lecture’s today, and here I am looking, and probably smelling, like a zombie. Great impression to make. Just what I needed. I glance at the grimoires and quickly flip a few pages to check. No drool, thank the stars. At least there's that. My eyes catch the wine glass still sitting beside the stack of books, a few sips of red still lingering in the bottom like a quiet reminder of last night’s desperation. I pick it up along with the empty
Aiden's Point of View As I make my way towards the dining hall, the rich scent of roasted meat, herbs, and fresh bread hits me square in the gut, and my stomach growls loudly in response. I can’t even remember the last time I ate, everything after the fight with Brock is a blur of adrenaline, guilt, and exhaustion. It’s a strange relief to feel hunger again, like my body’s finally coming back online. When I step into the dining hall, I immediately notice the private table Abby has set off to the side. It’s decked out, more like a celebration than a casual lunch. The table’s dressed in soft white linen with a centerpiece of spring flowers, and a spread of food already set up buffet style nearby. Roasted chicken, buttery vegetables, fresh salads, and a tray of desserts sit neatly in their dishes. My curiosity spikes. I head straight for Abby, giving her a skeptical smirk. “Wow, you really went all out. So what’s the big news?” She beams up at me, clearly thrilled. “You’ll just ha
Aiden's Point of View The first thing I register as I start to stir is the unfamiliar ceiling above me. A dull ache settles behind my eyes, the remnants of last night’s drinks, and for a second, I don’t remember where I am. Then I feel movement beside me. I turn my head and see her, the redhead from the bar, curled up beside me, her breathing soft and steady, her arm draped lazily over my chest. That’s when it all floods back in. The drinks, the flirting, the apartment. The distraction. Quietly, carefully, I ease her arm off me and sit up on the edge of the bed. The air is cool against my skin, and I keep still for a moment, staring at the floor like it might offer me a reason for last night, like it might help the guilt already starting to crawl its way in. I gather my clothes in silence, not bothering to look back at her. No need. This wasn’t meant to be anything more than what it was. I slip into my jeans, pull on my shirt, and make my way out of the bedroom, closing the door
Hazel's Point of View I stand at the front of the lecture hall, fingers wrapped lightly around the edge of the desk as students shuffle into their seats, the buzz of low chatter filling the space like a soft hum. My heart hammers in my chest, not from fear, but from a wild mix of nerves and excitement. The kind that coils in your belly and keeps you standing just a little taller. Sunlight spills in through the tall windows to my left, casting golden slashes across the rows of seats, and I take a breath that fills my lungs with the scent of coffee, paper, and a faint trace of chalk dust. My notes are arranged neatly on the desk, lesson plan, student list, a few references, everything perfectly in place, even if I don’t quite feel the same. The last of the students settle in, and the noise fades into an expectant silence. Dozens of eyes look up at me, some curious, some bored, a few skeptical, and for a split second, I question everything. What am I doing here? But then I remember,
Aiden's Point of View I square off with Brock in the center of the training arena, the late morning sun beating down on us as we circle each other. The air smells like dust, sweat, and pine from the surrounding forest. Brock is one of our biggest and best warriors, solid as a mountain, fast for his size, and always a challenge I welcome. We trade blows, our sparring session starting like any other. Sometimes I strike first, testing his defense. Other times, I let him come at me, focusing on my footwork, blocking and redirecting his force. It’s clean, controlled... until it isn’t. Somewhere between the fifth and sixth round, something inside me cracks wide open. He lunges with another punch, and this time, I don’t just block it, I react. Instinct takes over. I grab his arm mid swing, twisting it behind his back with unnatural speed and precision. There’s a sharp crack that echoes through the arena, followed by Brock’s grunt of pain as he cradles his now broken arm to his chest.
Hazel's Point of View The morning sunlight filters through the light curtains, casting a soft golden hue across the bedroom. I blink a few times, stretching slowly beneath the sheets before a wide grin spreads across my face. Today’s the day, my first lecture as an occult studies professor. Despite the restless dreams that tugged at me all night, Aiden’s face, his voice, the weight of his rejection, I feel a surge of excitement bubbling in my chest. I throw off the covers and swing my legs over the side of the bed, grabbing my phone from the nightstand and putting on one of my favorite upbeat playlists. The familiar rhythm instantly breathes energy into me. Humming along, I head into the kitchen. The apartment still feels new, but it's cozy, lived-in already. I start a pot of coffee, the comforting scent filling the air as I open the fridge and pull out the ingredients I bought yesterday, eggs, cheese, mushrooms, spinach, cherry tomatoes. Just what I need for the perfect omele
Aiden's Point of View I start to stir awake, but something feels off. My bed, usually warm and familiar, feels cold. Empty. That sensation spreads from my skin inward, sinking into my chest like a hollow weight. I shake my head, trying to push the feeling away, but it lingers. A deep, unsettling emptiness. With a sigh, I throw off the blankets and get out of bed, heading straight for the bathroom. I twist the taps, letting the water run hot, steam curling up around me as I step into the shower. The heat scalds my skin, but it does nothing to chase away the chill that’s settled inside me. I scrub harder, as if I can force the feeling away, but it clings to me. When I close my eyes, expecting to be haunted by the memory of Hazel, the rejection, the finality of it, I’m instead met with a different face. Crimson eyes. Pale skin. Dark hair like ink. The woman from the bar. Something about her lingers in my mind in a way that doesn’t feel natural. I don’t even remember her name
Hazel's Point of View I jolt upright, my breath coming in sharp gasps as my eyes dart around the unfamiliar room. It takes a moment for reality to settle in, for my mind to catch up with where I am. The rejection, it comes rushing back like a tidal wave, and I clutch the blanket in my lap as the ache in my chest resurfaces. Aiden’s voice echoes in my head. I, Aiden Calloway, reject you, Hazel Grimshaw, as my fated mate. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the memory away. I asked for this. I wanted it. So why does it feel like I’ve been torn apart? Taking a deep breath, I push the thoughts down. Last night, after the rejection hit me like a physical blow, I didn’t think, I just acted. I grabbed a map from my bag, laid it out on the forest floor, and let my finger drop at random. Then I murmured a teleportation spell, and the next thing I knew, I was standing in the middle of a quiet human town, Ravenwood. This is where I start over. No supernatural politics, no curses, no werewolves
Aiden's Point of View The road stretches endlessly before me, the dark asphalt illuminated only by my headlights as I push the truck faster. The hum of the engine fills the silence, but it does nothing to drown out the thoughts swirling in my head. I replay the scene over and over, every word, every look Hazel gave me. She just wanted me to reject her. No hesitation, no second thoughts. Like our bond, the one thing I’ve spent my entire life waiting for, meant absolutely nothing to her. I clench my jaw, my grip tightening around the steering wheel. My wolf stirs uneasily inside me, unsettled by the rejection, by the emptiness it left behind. The bond is severed now, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. It feels like something raw and jagged is tearing through my chest. She spoke about the supernatural world like it was a burden, something she wanted no part of. Like I was something she wanted no part of. I exhale sharply, shaking my head as if that’ll somehow force the thoughts