Chapter 2: The Handsome Stranger

The hand covering my mouth was impossibly strong. I kicked out wildly, my nails scraping against a muscular arm that held me firm. My heart thundered in my chest, panic rising like a hurricane.

Even with the beast's persistent energy coursing through me, I couldn't break free.

'I can't die like this,' I thought, fear tightening its grip on me. 'Not at the mercy of another predator?'

Before I could wrestle free, a calm, steady voice whispered against my ear.

"Relax, child," it said, smooth yet commanding. "The beast won't harm you now."

My entire body froze. The deep voice—it was familiar, but in a way that made chills run through me. My mind raced as I strained to see his face through the dim moonlight, but all I could make out was a shadowy figure. And then it hit me.

He was the one who had been giving orders earlier, leading the search party.

'Why is he helping me?' I wondered. 'Does he think I'm just another victim?'

When his hand finally released me, I stumbled back, gasping for air. My legs shook as I tried to process what had just happened, but before I could move, his hand caught my wrist.

"Don't run," he said firmly.

I froze again, this time not because of fear but because of him. The moonlight caught his face as he shifted slightly, and I forgot how to breathe.

He was . . . stunning.

High, sharp cheekbones framed a strong jawline, and his molten gold eyes seemed to glow faintly even in the dark. His dark, wavy hair fell just past his shoulders, framing his chiselled features. There was a magnetism to him that made my insides twist in ways I didn't understand.

Then, like a cruel joke, warmth pooled low in my core, sudden and entirely inappropriate. I squeezed my thighs together, horrified by my reaction.

'RIDE HIS SEXY ASS!'

The beast's voice growled in my mind, bold and shameless.

My eyes widened, and I slapped a hand over my mouth. "Shut up!" I hissed through gritted teeth, panic rushing through me.

The beast's laughter rolled in my head, deep and teasing. 'STRONG. BEAUTIFUL. HE IS A WORTHY MATE.'

'No!' I shouted internally. 'You take your urges and shove them somewhere silent!'

The man arched a brow, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. "What did you just say?"

"Nothing!" I squeaked, my voice embarrassingly high-pitched.

I clenched my fists, willing the heat in my body to fade.

'This is not the time, you damn beast! Get a grip!'

The beast only purred in amusement. 'PATHETIC.'

I wanted to scream, but instead, I cleared my throat and looked away, avoiding his gaze.

He watched me for a moment, as though he could see the chaos inside my head. Then he released my wrist. "Follow me," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "And don't speak when we reach the others. Just stay by my side."

As I followed him through the forest, I found my voice. "Who . . . who are you?" I whispered, though I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

He glanced at me, his glowing eyes catching the faint light of the moon. "My name is Kema," he said. His voice was steady, authoritative. "I'm a Watcher of the Sky Border."

I nearly stumbled. "A Watcher?"

He gave a quick nod, his focus already back on the path ahead. "Yes. Stay close, and remember—say nothing."

The Watchers of the Sky Border. The very name sent a chill down my spine. Stories of the Watchers had been used to frighten children into obedience for as long as I could remember. Ruthless enforcers of peace, they were said to hunt down monsters and criminals alike, leaving no room for mercy.

I stole a glance at his left cheek. There it was—the tattoo of an eagle's wing, just as the stories had described. The black combat attire, the imposing cape, the hood . . . it was all real.

'So the Watchers aren't just legends,' I thought. But then I realized something else. If he knew what I was—what I had done—would he be helping me now, or killing me?

We emerged from the woods into a clearing, and my stomach dropped. Kema's team was already there.

The scene was one of ruthless coordination. A female mage with a scar across her right eye stood at the forefront, her hands glowing green as thick vines snaked up from the earth to entangle a snarling werewolf—from its yellow eyes and bloodstained fur, it was likely the same werewolf that had fled at the sound of Kema's voice. The beast thrashed wildly, its claws swiping at the air, but the vines held firm. The mage's face was taut with concentration, sweat dripping from her brow as her glowing hands trembled.

Another mage moved swiftly, his fists encased in icy blades. With controlled movements, he struck at the rogue, forcing it to stagger back and weakening its resistance.

A third figure—a hulking werewolf—joined in. His limbs were partially transformed, his powerful claws striking with precision to bring the rogue down.

Beside me, Kema didn't move to join the fight. Instead, he stood perfectly still, his hand gripping mine tightly. I glanced up at him and noticed the faint glow of his now reddened eyes, the long claws extending from his free hand. He was ready, prepared for any surprise, but he didn't interfere.

I froze when the rogue collapsed, utterly defeated. The once-feral beast lay still, its snarls silenced, and in its place was a motionless human form.

The team didn't celebrate or pause. They regrouped quickly, murmuring to one another. The mage with the scar wiped her brow, exhaustion evident on her face. The ice mage inspected his marred blades with chilling indifference as the werewolf who partially transformed shifted back into his human form. I watched, stunned, as his combat attire seemed to shrink with him, leaving no sign of a tear or rip.

My mind raced as I stared at the lifeless form of the rogue. 'That could've been me,' I swallowed hard, my hands trembling at my sides.

Kema's voice snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts. "Stay close," he said quietly.

I nodded, following him as he stepped forward.

"Found her being chased by that beast," Kema said to his team. His tone was clipped, his expression lacking emotions.

"She's a witness to the murder of the timber merchant's daughter."

I felt my stomach twist, but I forced myself to stay calm. His lie was the only thing keeping me alive.

"Witness?" the scarred mage asked, raising an eyebrow. "And she survived? Lucky girl."

Kema didn't respond. He turned to me, his golden eyes unreadable. "I'll take her back to the village," he said over his shoulder.

No one protested, but their sharp, assessing gazes stayed fixed on me as Kema led me away. My pulse raced with every step.

Once we were far enough from the group, Kema stopped abruptly. He turned to face me, his expression cold and sharp.

"You're not a damn child for heavens' sake," he said, his voice low but furious. "So why can't you control your bloodlust?"

My heart skipped a beat, a cold dread washing over me.

'He knows.'