My Wolf Calls to Her

There’s a moment, a charged second where our gazes lock, and I can see it in her eyes. The attraction. The desire. It’s mutual, this pull between us, and it’s as dangerous as it is exhilarating.

“I’m just trying to help,” she says, her voice soft, and I can hear the vulnerability in it. The uncertainty.

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. “I don’t need your help.”

Her eyes flash with something, and she pulls back, her lips pressing together. She moves to sit by the fire, her back straight, her shoulders tense. I watch her for a moment, feeling a pang of regret. I don’t want to hurt her, but I can’t afford to let her get too close.

But I can’t help myself. I’m drawn to her like a moth to a flame, even knowing the moment I reach my destination, I’ll die.

I still want to feel that fleeting heat.

I abandon the bowl and move to join her, sitting beside her on the floor. The fire crackles, the warmth from it seeping into my bones, and I feel the tension in her body. She’s angry at me, and I don’t blame her.

I don’t touch her, but I let my body lean into hers, just enough to feel the heat of her skin. To know she’s there, beside me.

“Lyla—” I start, but she cuts me off, her head turning to look at me.

“I don’t need your help either,” she says, her voice sharp. But her eyes are soft, and I see the way they flicker to my lips. The way she leans closer, her breath warm against my face. “But I wouldn’t mind it.”

My heart pounds in my chest, and I want to kiss her. I clench my jaw, my body tensing, and I pull back, away from her.

“Don’t you feel it?” I ask, my voice low, rough. “Don’t you feel the draw between us? The need to be close?”

She frowns, her brows knitting together. “I do,” she says. “But I thought it was just me.”

“It’s not just you,” I say. “I feel it too. And that’s why I have to keep my distance.”

“Because you’re the alpha?” Her voice is quiet, but her words are sharp. “Because our kind forbids it? I’m a Blackwood and you’re a Nightshade.” She leans closer, her eyes bright. “But what if this is what we’re meant for? What if we were meant to find each other? What if we’re—fated?”

The word lingers between us, tempting, tantalizing, and oh so wrong.

Luna would not do that to enemies.

“You know that’s not possible,” I say. “Luna wouldn’t do that.”

“And why not?” she says, her challenge in her voice. “Did Luna make us enemies? Does she condone the separation of our packs?”

What she’s hinting at is blasphemy, and even though I toe the line, my skin grates against her insinuations.

“It’s more than that,” I say, my voice harsh. “Lyla, my bloodline is cursed. It changes the wolf. I can’t take that chance. I can’t risk giving in to that pull.”

She doesn’t understand, and I don’t expect her to. But I can see the curiosity in her eyes, the way she’s studying me, trying to figure me out.

She leans closer. “It makes me want you more,” she says, the huskiness in her tone igniting something in my core.

I reach out, my hand brushing a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. I see the way her eyes darken, the way her lips part, and I want to kiss her. I want to feel her lips on mine, to taste her, to lose myself in her.

“You are trouble, aren’t you?” I growl.

A hint of a smile presses against her mouth. “So I’ve been told.”

Fates be damned, I want this woman. Almost enough to risk it.

And that’s why I can’t.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice raw. “I wish things were different.”

I can’t protect her from the curse. I can’t keep her safe if I let myself love her.

But I can’t stop myself from wanting to try.

---

Kalen

We spend the next few mornings collecting herbs for her to make her own salves, and the nights going over the items in my cabin.

It’s during one of our herb-gathering sessions that things change between us.

The forest is lush and green, the scent of pine and damp earth thick in the air. I hear the rustle of leaves, the distant call of a bird, but all my senses are attuned to Lyla beside me.

Her hands work quickly, deftly picking the herbs and placing them in the basket she carries. I watch the way they move, the way her fingers brush against the leaves and stems.

We work side by side, our shoulders brushing, our breaths mingling. I feel the heat of her body, the way her chest rises and falls with each breath. And I know she’s aware of me, too. I can sense it, the way her body tenses, the way her fingers tremble when they touch mine. Her hand brushes mine as we reach for the same herb, and there’s a spark, a jolt of awareness that shoots through me.

Our eyes meet, and the air between us crackles with electricity.

Her eyes trace the lines of my face, falling on my mouth. I only notice because I’m watching her just as closely. Seeing the way her hair falls over her shoulders, the way her lips part, the way her chest rises and falls as she breathes.

I’m pulled to her as if she were a magnet.

“Alpha,” she whispers, and it’s a plea. A prayer.

My eyes meet hers. I keep my feet firmly planted, but she’s the one reaching for me. Somehow we are face to face, inches from each other, our bodies gravitating toward each other. I feel it in my bones, in my blood, in the very core of my being.

My wolf calls to her. He pushes under my skin as if he would break free.

It’s more than I can contain. My fingers brush against her skin, tracing the line of her arm, the curve of her shoulder.

She trembles, her eyes darkening. Her lips part, breathing hitches, and I’m lost.