Elliot. "If you're so interested in dying, then be my guest. Go into the woods." Damien's words lingered like smoke in the air, poisonous and suffocating. I should have let it go. Any sane person would have. My body still ached from the last time I set foot in those cursed woods, and every nerve screamed at me to stay far away. Yet here I was, perched on the cabin steps as twilight deepened, my curiosity a dangerous vice. Damien had been restless for days, vanishing into the night without a word. Ever since that night, he had avoided me like I was the plague, leaving only the faintest hint of his presence... muddy boots by the door, or the lingering scent of pine and earth. Reports of claw marks spreading through town had reached fever pitch. Everyone was afraid. I should have been too. But fear was nothing compared to the pull for answers. The cabin door slammed shut behind me as Damien stalked past, his jaw clenched, his hazel eyes glinting under the fading light. "Are yo
Damien. Elliot abandoned me in the woods faster than my wolf could howl my name. The pine scented air clung to me as I stumbled out of the forest, my muscles still taut from the shift, my eyes still hollowed by the memory of those brown eyes... wide with terror, burning with betrayal. He saw me. Not just me, but the monster within. And he was right to run. But it burned deeper than any claw wound did. My wolf clawed at my insides, a mournful howl echoing in my head. "He's our mate." He whimpered as though the truth would erase the fear etched into his face. But we'd showed him everything he feared, everything he couldn't unsee. "Hurt me, Damien? You're... you're a monster." The words cut deeper than claws ever could, leaving me bleeding out in ways no healing could fix. But his absence hurt worse. Every step I took toward the cabin felt like dragging my body through broken glass. My mind replayed the sound of his voice, his scent lingering in the air... cinnamon and oud.
Elliot. Sleep was an elusive luxury. The golden rays of the sun pierced through the cabin's window, their warmth at odds with the icy weight on my chest. I couldn't escape the questions, regrets, and fear that churned inside me. When I finally dragged myself to the table, Damien was exactly where I’d left him, a statue of brooding silence. His unyielding posture only stoked my frustration I crossed my arms, my voice cutting through the stillness. "Are we really going to ignore the fact that you're a werewolf?" Damien's sharp eyes locked onto mine, his jaw tightening. He didn't flinch. Didn't deny anything. "I won't shift near the cabin if that's what you're worried about," he said flatly. "I need one last thing from you." "Oh? Just one?" I barked a bitter laugh. "You want me to keep my mouth shut, don't you?" "Yes," he replied without hesitation, his voice as sharp as the edge of a blade. "For your safety, Elliot. You can't tell anyone, not even a whisper." A dry, scornful la
Elliot. Returning to work was supposed to be easy. Even with the mayor’s backing, Frank would have moved on to the next story and let me dig into my own half-baked storylines. But, no. The moment I stepped into the office, Frank ambushed me like a predator spotting prey. "Elliot!" His voice rang out, loud and overly enthusiastic... an unwelcome sound for my under-caffeinated brain. "Glad to see you took my advice and rested. You're back, recharged, ready to tackle the next big story!" I froze mid-step. The way he grinned sent an uneasy prickle down my spine. "What are you talking about, Frank?" "Oh, you know," he said nonchalantly, leaning against my desk like he owned it. "I've been doing some digging since you seemed... preoccupied. You might be interested in what I found." My stomach tightened. “And what, exactly, did you ‘find’?” Frank's grin widened, his eyes alight with self-satisfaction. "Your friend, Damien. The one who showed up out of nowhere after you got yourself
Elliot. What was wrong with me? I had been so relieved that Damien would stay with me. He made me laugh most times and helped out with the chores in the cabin without me asking him to. It was very easy to forget that he was a werewolf. But as I left the cabin the next morning, all I felt was the tension simmering in my chest, that strange pull between two different versions of myself. One that wanted Damien, that needed him in ways I hadn't dared acknowledge... and the other that didn't understand what the fuck was going on. Returning to work felt like some kind of temporary escape, even if the peace didn't last. Frank was officially a thorn in my flesh. He leaned against my desk with that look that meant trouble. "Morning, Elliot," He greeted, with a voice that was too casual. I couldn't help the eyeroll that followed. "Let me guess. You've got another wild theory?" Frank's grin widened. "You know me too well. But it's not just a theory this time." He leaned in. "I have pro
Elliot. Pain tore through my body, a searing fire that blurred my vision and threatened to pull me under. But through the haze, the thing watching me moved. Something fast. I caught a glimpse of Damien's wolf form darting toward the other creature, intercepting it before it could reach me again. Fuck. "Elliot, stay down!" Damien's voice echoed in my head, sharp with warning. But I wasn't about to just sit back and watch him risk his life alone. I forced myself to my feet, every muscle screaming in protest. The world swayed, but I knew when he ran into the clearing. Frank. It was over before it even started. The shock moved quickly to something colder. Anger. The disbelief on his face was almost laughable. It vanished in an instant, replaced by something colder. Darker. "Frank, wait." Too late. He raised a gun. "No..." My voice wasn't audible enough to break through the chaos that was the creature and Damien fighting, but Frank heard it. His eyes shot to me, narrowing
Elliot.The cabin was silent, save for Damien's ragged breaths echoing through the room. Just like the day I saved him, his blood painted my hands and smeared across my arms as I pressed cloth after cloth to his side.Anything to stop the blood rush. But it kept seeping through, staining everything a deeper shade of crimson."Stay still, okay?" I muttered, trying to keep the worry out of my voice.I wasn't fooling anyone.Damien managed a weak smirk. "You know, I think I look worse than I feel. You can stop fussing, alright?"Moron."Damien, shut up. I swear, if you don't stop talking, I'll knock you out myself." The words came out sharper than I intended, but I couldn't help it.He had been fine when we were coming out of the woods. Fine when he sat on the couch.Then he just started bleeding again, and now my hands were trembling, and it felt like I was trying to hold water in my palms instead of his life.He was a werewolf with unusually fast healing abilities. What was wrong now?
Elliot.I could see my breath under the night light, curling and dissipating as I leaned against the tree.The cabin lights were turned on, casting a faint glow from the distance.I'd stormed out of there the moment Damien was knocked out cold. I needed space, a place to gather my thoughts that didn't reek of bleach and housed a smirking Damien.A kiss. That was all it took to heal Damien.It shouldn't matter anymore. It was a lapse in judgement, an attempt to save Damien's life, nothing more.So why was my mund refusing to let it go, replaying that same moment over and over again in excruciating detail?Why could I still feel the warmth, the flush of adrenaline mixed with something unfamiliar in my chest.Even the last kiss I had five years ago hadn't felt like this.From Janice.I could see her blond curls flying in the wind, once a constant presence in my life, until that night...I hadn't felt like this in a long time. I hadn't felt like this ever.A shiver ran through me, and I
Elliot.And people blamed me for disappearing for five years.What the heck had just happened?The night felt heavier after Damien left. His silhouette disappeared into the darkness, and with it, any sense of normalcy I thought we still had.Something was wrong... terribly wrong... and if he wouldn't tell me, I'd figure it out myself."Elliot, honey, what's going on? Is Damien alright?"I hesitated, not wanting to alarm her. “I don’t know, Mom. He just… needs some time to himself.”She wanted to say more. The way she moved around and her lips purse together. But thankfully, she kept them to herself and just motioned for me to come inside."You too. It's late, and you shouldn't be out in the cold."Yeah, she was right.I nodded but didn't move. "Mom, who was that man? Ryan?"Her brown eyes narrowed slightly, the worry on her face deepening. Once upon a time, my mom was the prettiest woman in the land, now the stress of old age, a child who disappeared for years, and work had worn her d
Damien."We need to talk."It was one thing for someone to barge into someone's house, neighbour or not. It was another thing for said person to come after a person eating dinner and minding their own business.The tension in the dining room was suffocating. The burly man, Ryan, stood close to the doorway, his shoulders blocking out the light. His eyes were still locked on mine, and I felt the weight of it as though it could crush me where I sat.Elliot’s family watched warily, their smiles vanishing. I would have given a million bucks to know what was going on in their mind."I said," Ryan repeated, his tone low and deliberate. "We need to talk, Damien."Elliot bristled beside me, his chair scraping the floor as he stood. "What the hell is going on? Who are you?" His voice was like sharpened knives. Ryan didn't spare him a glance. His focus was entirely on me, his lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. "You know who I am, kid."My stomach twisted.I didn't know thi
Damien.I didn't feel much better the next morning.No matter how much I tried to convince myself that I was probably imagining things, and I couldn't probably have gutted a random girl in the street of New York.Not even a little.My stomach was a tangled mess of nerves, excitement, and uncertainty as Elliot drove us to his childhood home deeper in the city of New York.I had no idea what to expect from meeting his family... what kind of impression I would make, and whether they would accept me.But as much as I hated to be introduced as just a friend, part of me was eager to just see the life he had grown up in, to understand him a little better.Elliot tightened his hand on the wheel, his eyes focused on the road. He looked different today... a bit more casual, no more of the anxiety filled, heightened senses, intense persona he'd been wearing.He looked lighter, almost... happy.It made me want to reach out, slam my lips on those perfect lips, and continue our activity from yester
Damien.This probably wasn't the best time for this.I didn't kiss Elliot because I wanted to. Not that I didn't want to, but not when he was confessing his guts out about what happened to his dead fiancée five years ago.That wouldn't be fair. Not to him. Not to me. But he was so close.His lips trembling with each word, his breath ragged as if the weight of the past was too much to carry on his own.And his eyes... moon goddess, his eyes... they were darker than usual, filled with so much pain that I could feel it in my own chest.And yet... all I could think about was how much I wanted him.Maybe it wasn't the best time. Maybe it was a terrible idea.But the way he looked at me, the way he leaned into me when I touched his face, it felt like an invitation I couldn't turn away from.I cupped his jaw, brushing my thumb over the stubble on his chin, the action almost instinctive. This wasn't the first time we kissed. He had a whole mark on his neck from me.But it just felt right.
Elliot."You can't possibly know that."I pushed Damien's hand off my shoulder, barely sparing him a glance. "Leave me alone.""Elliot...""Just... please." I didn't wait for a response, ducking out of the restaurant and into the streets.I heard Damien's footsteps behind me at first, his steady, relentless presence tracking me, but I didn't turn around.He'd catch on eventually. I just needed space.My feet took me though blocks and alleys without thought, my mind whirling with everything Ethan had thrown at me, every accusation he'd nailed to my skin. I didn't care where I was going, as long as I was alone.Everything...The neon lights outside an old boutique caught my eye, and I stopped, hesitating. This was her boutique.The one she dragged me to whenever she could. One she loved.How did I make it here?I knew every inch of the store... each table, every display, the delicate scent of lavender that lingered on everything she’d brought back from it on the days she didn't drag m
Elliot."Ethan, enough!"The walls here felt like they were closing in on me the moment I heard Ethan’s voice. His eyes, so similar to mine in shade but hardened with something darker, held a glint of satisfaction at catching me off guard and making me lose my marbles.The asshole.I felt Damien's hand under the table, firm on my knee, grounding me. But my heart was already pounding so hard, and my grip on the glass of water tightened as I forced myself to meet my brother’s eyes."I'll meet them when I'm ready." I managed, voice barely above a whisper."When you're ready, huh?" Ethan laughed exactly like he did when we were younger. Mockingly. He drew curious glances from a few tables nearby. "That shouldn't surprise me. It also wouldn't surprise me if you never showed up. That's your specialty."The words sliced through me, unearthing memories I'd tried to bury. Damien's hand tightened on my knee, but it did nothing to soften the impact. My throat had closed up, my mind already spir
Damien.The moment we crossed into New York, I could feel the tension building in Elliot.His body had gone rigid beside me, his fingers clenched tightly into the fabric of his jeans.His face was drawn, mouth a thin line as he stared straight ahead, his eyes wide, darting from side to side like he couldn't keep up with everything.“Elliot.” I kept my voice calm, steady. “You okay?”His shoulders twitched, but he didn't answer, his eyes flicking to the blaring car horn, the flashing billboards, the sea of people moving like a torrent down the side walks.It was rush hour, and every sound seemed amplified.I could feel Elliot's pulse racing just by looking at him. "Damien," he finally whispered, voice trembling. "It's… it’s too much. It’s..."His words cut off as a siren blared behind us, and he clamped his hands over his ears, wincing. I watched his face go pale, his eyes glassy as he tried to steady himself.I was so glad we changed positions earlier when he complained of cramps."A
Damien."Two weeks. No more."Frank's truck was actually not what I had expected. It wasn't a beat-up old thing that reeked of stale cigarettes and sweat.There weren't food wrappers and coffee mugs littered around.It was clean. Smelled like lavender with very comfortable seats.Which, in turn, made me very uncomfortable. But the moment Elliot slid into the driver’s seat, his hands curling around the steering wheel, I felt something strange... almost like I was where I was supposed to be.Frank had thrown the keys at him with a hard look, grumping. "Nothing should happen to it, Elliot. And if you dare extend this so-called break with a minute, I'll consider you as good as gone. I'm already hanging by a thread with the last break you took."He'd walked off with barely another word, but I hadn't missed the anger in his eyes when he glanced back at me.After all, I made him give Elliot his truck."Ready?" Elliot’s voice brought me back. He was watching me, eyebrows raised, as if he cou
Elliot.The next morning came in a haze of soft, warm light filtering through the thin curtains.The world outside was quiet, as though it respected the fragile calm that was within me.Damien left earlier.Perhaps to do some light hunting or other werewolf stuff.It gave me time to let my fingers grazed where he had marked me last night. A reminder of the bond we had forged... another reminded that Damien and I were actually mates."One cannot mark someone who is not their mate." A line from the book jumped at me.I was lost in the sensation, the dull ache of the mark that seemed to reach deeper than the skin.My hand lingered there, pressing against the slight swell of soreness when the door opened, and in walked Damien, a wolfish smile tugging at his lips.His eyes drifted immediately to my hand resting on the mark."Does it hurt?" He asked, concern lacing his voice."A little," I admitted, trying not to sound too vulnerable. "But it's... manageable."He sat down on the edge of the