Heather's POV
☆☆☆☆☆
I woke to the scent of pine, smoke… and power.
Not the sickly, sour kind that clung to Marcus and his wolves. This was different. Clean, sharp. Ancient.
My eyes fluttered open.
The ceiling above me wasn't familiar—vaulted stone and dark wood beams, far from the crumbling plaster of Marcus's compound. A fire crackled in the corner, casting shadows along walls lined with shelves and books.
And I was warm.
Blankets cocooned me, soft and heavy. The air was thick with unfamiliar magic, but not the oppressive kind. It didn't weigh me down. If anything, it felt like it was holding me together.
My body ached. Every inch. My ribs felt wrapped in fire. My arm burned. But I was alive.
Alive.
I let out a slow breath, eyes stinging. I hadn't dared hope I'd survive the escape. That id even make it across the border, let alone wake up in a bed.
Then I felt it.
Presence.
The hair on my arms stood up. My wolf whimpered deep inside me, not in fear—but in something far more dangerous.
Recognition.
My gaze shifted toward the far side of the room.
He sat in a chair in the shadows—still, silent, watching me like a predator who'd finally found what he'd been hunting. Tall. Cold. Devastating. His eyes, dark and rimmed with gold, locked onto mine.
The Alpha.
I tensed, panic surging through me. I tried to sit up, but pain lanced through my ribs, and I cried out.
"Don't," he said, rising smoothly to his feet. His voice was low, firm. "You're not healed yet."
I flinched.
"Easy," he said again, but this time—softer.
Not gentle. He didn't strike me as a man who did gentle.
But there was control in him. Power held in check, just barely.
My breath caught in my throat. "Where… where am I?"
"You're in my territory. You crossed the border three nights ago. Nearly bled out on the edge of the forest." He paused, then added, "I brought you here."
I stared at him. "Why?"
He didn't answer right away.
Then—"Because you're mine."
My chest tightened.
"No," I whispered, voice raw. "I don't belong to anyone."
His expression flickered, but he didn't argue. "You almost died getting away from him. I saw the silver burns. The bruises."
I turned my face away. Shame clawed at me, old and suffocating. "I didn't ask for your help."
"No," he agreed. "But you needed it."
Silence stretched between us.
I fought the fear rising in my throat. This wasn't Marcus. But he was still an alpha. Still powerful. And those words—you're mine—they triggered something buried so deep I didn't know if it was fear or fury.
Or worse… hope.
My eyes met his again.
"What's your name?" i asked, forcing my voice steady.
"Darrian."
It suited him. Sharp. Final. Like a blade drawn before a kill.
"And what do you want from me, Darrian?"
He stepped closer. Just enough to cast a shadow over her bed.
"Nothing," he said. "Except for you to heal."
That threw me.
He didn't leer. Didn't reach for me. Just stood there—watching me with a kind of intensity that made my skin burn.
"Why?"
His jaw flexed. His voice dropped to something dangerous and intimate.
"Because whether you want it or not… we're bound. I felt it the moment I touched you."
My wolf stirred again.
Mate.
I clenched my jaw. "You don't know me."
"I will," he said simply.
And somehow, that terrified me more than anything Marcus ever did.
Because Marcus wanted to break me.
But Darrian?
He looked at me like he might rebuild me from the ruins—and that was a far more dangerous thing.
I didn't know what scared me more—the bruises still healing on my skin or the way this stranger looked at me like I was something worth bleeding for.
Darrian.
Even his name sounded like trouble, smooth and dangerous.
I tried to shift upright again, slower this time. My ribs screamed, but I forced myself to sit up, propped against the headboard. The sheets slipped down my arms, revealing the bandages wrapping half my torso. My breath hitched.
They hadn't just cleaned me up. They'd tended to me with care. I wasn't used to that. I wasn't used to anything that didn't end in pain.
Darrian hadn't moved. He stood just beyond the edge of the firelight, arms crossed over his broad chest, like he knew if he came any closer, I might bolt.
Too late. My mind was already running.
"You said we're... bound," I said, voice rough. "You felt it?"
His eyes never left mine. "Yes."
I swallowed. My heart was thudding too loud in my ears. "Then you know I didn't ask for this."
"I didn't either," he said without hesitation. "But it's real."
I wanted to deny it. Pretend I didn't feel the pull under my skin, the warmth that sparked the moment he stepped closer. But lies wouldn't protect me anymore. And I was tired of lying to myself.
I pulled the blanket tighter around me, clinging to it like armor. "What happens now?"
Darrian's eyes narrowed. "That depends."
"On what?"
"On whether you run… or stay."
Stay? I laughed, but it came out wrong—bitter and broken. "I didn't escape one prison to fall into another."
Something flickered across his face. Not offense. Not anger. Something deeper.
"I'm not Marcus," he said. His voice didn't rise, but I felt the edge sharpen. "I won't chain you."
I didn't believe that. I couldn't believe that. Not yet.
But I also didn't move. My body refused. My wolf, traitorous thing, didn't bristle in his presence. It… watched. Waited.
Darrian stepped into the firelight then, slow and deliberate.
I saw the edge of a scar running from his neck to his collarbone, peeking beneath the dark shirt he wore. The way his jaw was carved from silence and war. This wasn't a man who lived softly.
"You're safe here," he said. "No one will touch you without your permission. Not even me."
"Why should I trust you?" I whispered.
"You shouldn't."
That surprised me.
He stepped closer until he was just a breath away. I stiffened, but didn't pull back. His scent hit me again—earth, ash, power.
"You've lived too long among monsters," he said. "I don't expect you to see me as anything else. But I won't hurt you, Heather."
My name on his lips sent a tremor through me.
"And if Marcus tries to take you back," he added, voice dropping to something lethal, "he'll die."
I believed him. Gods help me, I believed him.
But I also knew nothing in this world came without a cost. No safety without a price.
So I asked the one question I feared the most.
"And what will you want from me, Darrian?"
He looked at me, gaze burning with something I couldn't name. Something that wasn't desire, or possession.
Something worse.
"Everything," he said. "But I'll wait until you offer it freely."
My breath caught.
He turned then, just as my head started to spin. The pain, the fever, the truth—it all swirled together. My body gave in before my mind did.
The last thing I saw before the darkness dragged me under again… was him watching me.
And for the first time in years, I didn't feel afraid when I closed my eyes.