The Forest Encounter

The cottage was quiet. Too quiet.

Nyra's steady breathing filled the dark, the faint crackle of the hearth long since burned down to ash. But Selene couldn't sleep. She lay on her cot, eyes open, the rough blanket tangled around her legs, her skin hot as if fire smoldered beneath it.

She turned onto her side. Then her back. Then curled up tight, arms locked around herself. Nothing helped.

Her body wouldn't settle.

It wasn't the air. It wasn't the blanket. It was him.

The memory of golden eyes burned behind her lids, scorching. His voice crawled down her spine: Not yet.

Selene pressed her wrist to her chest, nails digging into the skin where he had held her. No mark remained, no bruise. Yet the ghost of his grip lingered, heat pulsing under her skin like an ember that refused to die.

Her breath hitched.

She hated the way her body betrayed her. The way the ache spread lower, restless and insistent. Shame curled in her gut, twisting tight. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to crush it, smother it, but the pressure only made it worse.

"No," she whispered into the dark, as if the word alone could banish the fire.

Nyra stirred beside her, mumbling something in her sleep. Selene went still, forcing her breathing slow until her cousin settled again. Only then did she roll onto her back, staring at the rafters.

The heat didn't fade.

It pulsed.

Every shift of her body reminded her of him—his chest bare, streaked with another wolf's blood, the way he had caged her against the pillar without even touching her fully. The way his mouth had hovered at the edge of her hood, so close she could feel the ghost of a kiss that never landed.

Selene pressed her fist to her mouth, biting hard against the sound that wanted to escape her throat.

She should have been horrified. She should have been trembling in disgust. But the shameful truth was worse.

Her body ached for something it had no right to crave.

"Selene?"

Her cousin's voice cut through the dark.

Selene flinched, jerking upright on her cot. Her blanket slipped to the floor, her chest heaving as though she'd been caught mid-crime.

Nyra pushed herself up on her elbows, hair spilling across her shoulders. Her eyes narrowed, sharp even in the dim light filtering through the shutters.

"You're not asleep."

Selene forced her breathing steady, dragging the blanket back over her legs. "Neither are you."

Nyra studied her for a long moment, silent. Then her gaze slid to Selene's wrist, the place where Dorian's grip still haunted her skin.

"You're restless," Nyra said softly. "Like our mothers were."

The words struck harder than a slap.

Selene's throat closed. "Don't."

Nyra swung her legs over the side of the cot, leaning forward. "You think I didn't notice? You've been burning since the Ritual. I can feel it coming off you like smoke."

Selene shook her head, wrapping her arms tight around herself. "It's nothing."

"It's him."

The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.

Nyra's voice lowered, edged with fear. "He marked you without even laying a claim. That's what the curse does. It coils in your blood until you can't tell if it's fear or want."

Selene's lips parted, but no words came. She wanted to deny it, to spit the lie back into her cousin's face. But the ache in her body made denial feel hollow.

Nyra's hand reached across the narrow space, clutching Selene's fingers hard. "Listen to me. If you give in, you'll be bound. You'll carry the goddess's prophecy, like the rest of them did. And you'll die for it."

Selene stared at their joined hands, her chest tight, her stomach twisting.

Carry the prophecy.

The phrase lodged in her skull like a thorn.

Her mouth was dry when she whispered, "Maybe I don't get to choose."

Nyra's eyes flashed, wet with anger and fear. "Then fight harder. Because once he claims you, Selene, here's no coming back."

The first gray light of dawn leaked through the shutters.

Selene couldn't stay inside. Not with Nyra's words still clawing at her chest, not with the restless heat burning her skin raw. She slipped from the cot, careful not to wake her cousin, and pulled her cloak tight before stepping out into the chill.

The village was quiet. Too quiet. No smoke from the chimneys yet, no voices, no clatter of morning work. Mist clung to the ground, curling around her boots as she walked, drawn as if by invisible strings toward the trees.

The forest loomed dark and endless, pines stretching high, their branches heavy with dew. Selene stepped past the first line of trunks, breathing deep. The air was damp, sharp with moss and earth, clean in a way the village never was. For a moment, the weight in her chest loosened.

But then the forest went still.

No rustle of birds. No skitter of rabbits. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

Selene froze, her pulse leaping.

The mist shifted between the trees. A shape moved, low, massive, but silent.

Her chest tightened.

The wolf padded into view, fur dark as shadow, eyes glowing gold through the fog.

Selene's breath caught. She stumbled back until her spine pressed hard against a pine trunk, her fingers clawing into the bark.

The wolf stared at her. Unblinking. Patient.

Her throat went dry. "No…"

It stepped closer, slow, deliberate. Each pad of its paws barely stirred the leaves, but Selene felt the vibration all the same, rolling through her bones.

The mist curled tighter. The air thickened. And as she blinked, the wolf stretched, shifted—bones cracking, fur retracting, skin sliding into shape.

Dorian Veyrath stood before her.

Bare-chested. Barefoot. Cloak loose around his shoulders, hair damp with dew. The same golden eyes burned in his human face, sharper now, hotter.

Selene's pulse hammered so hard it hurt.

He circled her slowly, never touching, but close enough that the heat of his body brushed her skin. His gaze dragged over her, down the line of her cloak, back up to her mouth.

"You came into the woods alone." His voice was a low growl, velvet threaded with danger. "Brave… or foolish?"

Selene forced air into her lungs. "Leave me."

Dorian stepped closer, bracing one hand against the tree beside her head. His scent wrapped her smoke, iron, something wild and intoxicating.

"You don't want me to leave."

Her knees trembled. She hated it. Hated that he could see it. "I'll never be yours."

His mouth curved, slow and cruel. "Not yet."

Selene's back dug into the rough bark as he leaned in, caging her without chains. His hand braced against the tree above her head, the other resting lazily at his side, as though he didn't need force to keep her pinned.

The heat of him bled into her, the scent of smoke and iron thick in the mist. Her chest rose too quickly, each breath scraping her throat.

"You hate me," he murmured, his lips close enough that his breath ghosted across her cheek. "But your body doesn't."

Selene's stomach twisted. "You're wrong."

Golden eyes burned brighter. "Am I?"

He shifted closer, slow, deliberate, until his chest brushed hers. Not enough to press, just enough that she felt the heat, the steady thrum of his heart. Her pulse stumbled in answer, betraying her.

Selene swallowed hard, nails biting into the bark behind her. "I won't be your Luna."

Dorian's mouth curved, sharp as a blade. "You already are. You just don't know it yet."

Her knees shook. The world tilted, the mist thick around them, silence heavy as his face lowered, closer, closer, his lips hovering a breath above hers.

Selene's breath caught. Her body swayed forward, traitorous, hungry for something her mind refused.

But at the last instant, he stopped.

His mouth lingered a hair's breadth away, their breaths mingling, heat coiling between them like a living thing. He let the moment stretch until her chest ached with the effort of not leaning closer.

Then he pulled back, slow and deliberate, golden eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.

"You'll beg me for this," he whispered. "Soon."

Selene's heart lurched. Shame and rage tangled with a fierce, burning ache she couldn't smother.

When he finally stepped back, she sagged against the tree, trembling, her lips tingling from a kiss that hadn't even landed.

Selene's breath rasped in the cold air, her cloak clutched tight against her chest as if that thin fabric could shield her from the fire still smoldering under her skin.

Dorian stepped back, shadows swallowing his bare form as mist coiled around him. His eyes never left her, molten gold, glowing in the gloom like they'd been carved from the moon itself.

Her voice shook as she forced it past her lips. "I'll never beg."

He tilted his head, the faintest smirk curving his mouth. "Not to me, little wolf. To yourself."

Then he turned, slow and unhurried, vanishing into the trees.

The forest swallowed him whole. Silence rushed in behind him, too heavy, too absolute. Selene sagged against the trunk, her knees weak, her chest heaving like she'd just outrun death itself.

But she hadn't outrun anything.

Because even now, his voice coiled in her ears, low and certain, a vow pressed into her very bones.

Run all you like, Selene. I'll always find you.

Her hands shook as she pushed herself away from the tree, stumbling back toward the village, heart pounding so loud it drowned the crunch of leaves beneath her boots.

She didn't dare look back.

But the weight of his gaze lingered, burning between her shoulder blades.

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