Chapter 8
I collapsed onto the couch, phone pressed to my ear. “Luke, I’m screwed.”
“What, like, right now? In that haunted cottage? Kinky.”
“I hate you. But no—remember Caleb who helped with my car yesterday?”
“Mysterious Good Samaritan who just happened to find you broken down in the middle of nowhere?”
“Yeah, well, I just met his brother. By making him spill coffee all over his must cost more than my student loans suit. Then he insisted on buying me lunch, and after that took me to a lawyer where I found out I can’t sell this place for six months. Some clause in Mom’s will.”
“Wait, there’s another one? And he bought you lunch after you made him ruin his suit? What’s with this town?”
“Apparently, they’re those Stones. As in, they basically own the town.”
“Hold up. You’re telling me you’re trapped in CreepyVille for six months? Should I be planning your rescue or your funeral?”
“Neither, because Caleb is taking me to dinner in thirty minutes.”
The silence was deafening.
“Luke?”
“I’m sorry, my brain just broke. You’re going on a date with the mysterious mechanic whose equally mysterious brother you turned into a walking coffee stain today?”
“I walked into him, okay? But he’s the one who insisted on lunch.”
“Uh-huh. And now his brother is whisking you away to dinner. Nothing suspicious about that at all.”
I sighed, sinking deeper into the couch. “I know how it sounds…”
“You could always move in with me and Eomma,” Luke offered. “You know she would love to have you.”
“And that’s exactly why I can’t. Imo already does too much for me. Remember winter break? I gained like ten pounds from all her ‘you’re too skinny’ meals.”
“That’s just how she shows love!”
“I know, and I love her for it. But I can’t keep crashing with you guys every time things get rough. I need to figure this out on my own.”
“Okay, fine, no moving in. But at least tell me where you’re going tonight. And his license plate. And maybe get a DNA sample—”
“I’m not getting his DNA, Luke.”
“Fine. But I want updates. Every hour. No, every thirty minutes. And if you don’t text back, I’m calling the police. And telling Eomma.”
“Imo is scarier than the police.”
“Exactly.”
I smiled despite myself. “I’ll be careful. Promise.”
“If anything feels weird—like, anything —call me.”
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine. It’s just dinner.”
“Just dinner. With a mysterious mechanic. Be careful, okay? And text me. A lot.”
“Yes, mom . Going now.” I hung up before he could threaten me with Imo’s protective rituals.
I glanced at the time and jumped up. Twenty-five minutes to get ready for this definitely not a serial killer dinner date. At least I had time for a quick shower.
As I headed for the bathroom, I tried to ignore the little voice in my head that sounded suspiciously like Luke, listing all the ways this could go horribly wrong. But really, what was the worst that could happen?
I’d barely managed to towel off from my emergency freshening-up shower when I heard the purr of an engine outside. A glance at my phone confirmed it was exactly six o’clock. Of course Mr. Perfect would be precisely on time. Because apparently one overwhelmingly attractive Stone brother wasn’t enough for one day—now I had to deal with another one.
“Please let there be something decent to wear,” I muttered, rifling through my sad excuse for a wardrobe.
I ended up in my best-fitting jeans—the ones that had earned me more than a few appreciative glances, thank you very much—and a plain black t-shirt that had seen better days but at least didn’t have any holes. Mom always said simplicity was elegant. I was going with “minimalist chic.”
When I opened the door, I nearly swallowed my tongue. Caleb Stone stood there looking like he’d just stepped off a photo shoot, all dangerous grace in perfectly fitted jeans and a leather jacket.
“Ready to go?” He flashed that movie star smile that probably made angels weep.
“Sure, just let me grab my designer everything—oh wait.” I gestured at my basic ensemble. “This is what you get when you spring dinner plans on someone who’s living out of boxes.”
Caleb’s laugh was warm and genuine. “You look perfect.” His eyes did this slow sweep that made me feel like I was wearing a lot less than department store basics, lingering just a moment too long on areas that made my face heat. “The car’s this way.”
‘The car’ turned out to be some kind of sports car that looked more appropriate for a Formula 1 track than the backroads of Washington state. “Compensating for something?” I couldn’t help asking as he opened the passenger door.
“Why don’t you find out?” He winked, and I felt my face heat.
“Does that line usually work for you?”
“You tell me,” he said, sliding into the driver’s seat with unfair grace. “Is it working?”
I buckled my seat belt, hoping the darkness hid my blush. “You’re something else, Caleb Stone.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” His grin was visible even in the dim light as he pulled away from the curb.
The interior was all soft leather and subtle lighting, everything screaming luxury and money. Just like everything else about the Stone brothers, apparently. I tried not to think about how the seat seemed to cradle me perfectly or how Caleb’s cologne mixed with the leather scent was doing dangerous things to my concentration.
“So,” Caleb said as we purred down the winding road, the engine humming like a satisfied cat, “I heard you had quite the adventure with Marcus today.”
“Oh God.” I slumped in the ridiculously comfortable seat. “Did he tell you about the coffee incident?”
“The ten-thousand-dollar suit?” Caleb’s grin was teasing. “He might have mentioned it.”
“Ten thousand?” I squeaked. “For a suit?”
“Welcome to the world of Marcus Stone.” He chuckled.
“Does your brother always personally escort strangers around town?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
Something flickered across Caleb’s face before his easy smile returned. “Only the special ones.”
The way he said ‘special’ made my skin tingle. Or maybe that was just the way his hand brushed mine when he reached for the gear shift. Either way, I needed to change the subject before my body could betray me further.
“So, are you going to tell me where we’re going, or is this the part where you reveal you’re actually a serial killer?” I asked, watching the trees blur past my window.
“If I was a serial killer, would I tell you?” He shot me a playful grin. “Don’t worry, I know this amazing Mediterranean place in the next town over. The owner’s this incredible Greek woman who treats her recipes like state secrets.”
“Mediterranean?” My stomach practically did a backflip of joy. After that amazing pizza for lunch with Marcus—which I was still dreaming about, if I’m being honest—I was ready to expand my culinary adventures. “Please tell me they have real spanakopita . Not that frozen stuff that tastes like cardboard.”
“Athena would be mortally offended if anyone even suggested she’d serve frozen anything.” He laughed. “Everything’s made from scratch. Her lamb souvlaki will make you forget your own name.”
“Is that a challenge?” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
“In cars, restaurants, or leather jackets?” His voice dropped an octave lower, and suddenly we weren’t just talking about food anymore.
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “What are you competing in exactly?”
“All of the above. And company.” He winked at me again, and I swore the temperature in the car rose ten degrees.
We drove past the Cedar Grove town limits, the dense forest pressing in on both sides of the road. In the falling dusk, the trees seemed to lean in, watching us pass. I shivered, remembering my weird dreams from last night.
“Cold?” Caleb asked, already reaching for the climate controls.
“No, just…” I trailed off, not sure how to explain that the forest was giving me the creeps without sounding like a complete idiot. “Long day, I guess.”
“Hmm.” His hand found mine again, and this time it wasn’t an accident. His skin was burning hot against mine. “Well, let me help you forget about it.”
The worst part? I was pretty sure he could.
Twenty minutes later, we pulled into a small town that looked like it belonged in a European travel magazine, all historic brick buildings and twinkling streetlamps. Caleb parked the car in front of a charming building with whitewashed walls and blue trim, strings of warm lights crisscrossing the outdoor patio. A hand-painted sign read Athena’s Taverna in elegant blue letters.
“After you,” he said, appearing at my door before I could even reach for the handle. Show-off.
The scent of grilled meat, fresh herbs, and something tantalizingly exotic hit me as soon as we walked in. My stomach chose that moment to remind me—loudly—that lunch had been hours ago. Caleb chuckled, his hand finding the small of my back as he guided me past tables draped in blue-and-white checkered cloths to a secluded corner booth.
The interior was cozy and warm, the rough stone walls decorated with black-and-white photos of Greek islands. Copper pots hung from the ceiling, and somewhere, bouzouki music played softly.
“I take it you approve?” Caleb asked as I tried not to obviously drool at the plates of food passing by our table.
“If everything tastes half as good as it smells, I might have to move to this town instead.”
“Now that,” Caleb said, sliding into the booth next to me instead of across like a normal person would, “is something we can discuss.”
A tiny woman who could only be Athena descended on our table like a force of nature, all flowing skirts and jangling bracelets. “Caleb! Too long, too long!” She swatted his shoulder with a menu. “And who is this?” Her dark eyes sparkled as they landed on me. “Finally, someone pretty to look at besides my plates!”
“This is Kai,” Caleb said, his voice warm with something that made my cheeks heat. “Kai, meet Athena, the best chef this side of Santorini.”
“Flattery won’t get you extra baklava,” she warned, but she was beaming. “Now, what can I get you to drink?”
“Wine?” Caleb asked me. When I nodded, he turned to Athena. “The house red, please.”
“ Efharisto ,” (thank you) she replied with a wink, already whisking away.
“So,” I said, trying to focus on the menu instead of how Caleb’s thigh was pressed against mine in the booth, “what’s good here? Besides everything, which I’m sure you’re about to say.”
“Guilty.” His laugh rumbled through me where we touched. “But the moussaka here? Life-changing.”
“Life-changing, huh?” I arched an eyebrow. “That’s a pretty big claim.”
“I never make claims I can’t back up.” The way he said it made my scar tingle, a warm sensation spreading across my skin. I shifted in my seat, trying to put a respectable distance between us, but my body seemed to have other ideas, instinctively leaning toward his warmth.
Athena returned with wine and a plate of appetizers I hadn’t heard us order. “To start,” she announced. “Real tzatziki , not that supermarket nonsense. Dolmades , spanakopita, and”—she fixed me with a stern look—“you’re too skinny. Eat.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I laughed, already reaching for what looked like the best spanakopita I’d ever seen. The phyllo was perfectly crisp, the filling rich and fragrant. “Oh my God.”
“Told you,” Caleb said, looking entirely too pleased with himself. He raised his wineglass. “ Yiamas ,” (to our health).
“Cheers,” I echoed, clinking my glass against his. The wine was deep and smooth, nothing like the boxed stuff I usually bought. “So, do you bring all your dates here to impress them?”
Something flickered in his eyes—possessiveness maybe?—before his easy smile returned. “Only the special ones.”
There was that word again. Special. Marcus had used it too, with that same intensity that made me want to simultaneously lean closer and run away. The Stone brothers were like gravity wells, and I was caught in their orbit.
With Marcus, it was all controlled power and commanding presence. Even thinking about our lunch made my pulse jump. But Caleb… Caleb was different. Lighter somehow, but no less dangerous. Like comparing a playful wolf to a prowling one—both could still bite.
“You’re thinking too hard,” Caleb murmured, reaching across to brush a crumb from my lip. The casual touch sent a jolt through my scar that had me gasping softly. “Try the dolmades.”
I did, grateful for the distraction. The stuffed grape leaves were perfectly seasoned, the rice filling tender and aromatic. “Okay, you win. This place is amazing.”
“I haven’t even gotten to the best part yet.” His smile turned mischievous. “Wait until you try dessert.”
I was about to respond when I caught him watching me with an intensity that made my breath catch. His eyes seemed darker somehow, more predatory, and for a moment I could have sworn I heard something like a low rumble coming from his chest. He leaned in slightly, as if catching my scent, and my scar tingled in response. The air between us felt charged, electric.
The spell broke when Athena appeared, though Caleb’s heated gaze never left me.
“So,” Caleb said as Athena cleared our appetizer plates, “I hear you might be sticking around Cedar Grove for a while.”
“News really does travel fast,” I muttered, thinking about the lawyer’s six-month residency requirement. “Let me guess—Marcus told you?”
“Maybe.” His smile was teasing. “Or maybe I just hoped.”
I stared at my wineglass, trying to process the warmth in his voice. There was something about the way he said it—like he wasn’t just talking about me staying in town, but something deeper. Something that made my scar tingle and my pulse quicken.
The silence stretched between us, not uncomfortable but charged with something I couldn’t quite name. Caleb seemed content to let it linger, his eyes never leaving my face. I could feel the weight of his gaze like a physical touch.
A few minutes later, Athena returned with our main courses. The moussaka she set in front of me smelled divine, layers of eggplant, spiced meat, and béchamel sauce steaming invitingly. Caleb’s souvlaki looked equally amazing, the grilled meat glistening with herbs and lemon.
“You’ll tell me if it’s life-changing?” He watched me take my first bite with an intensity that made my cheeks warm.
“Oh.” I closed my eyes as flavors exploded across my tongue. “Oh, wow.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” His voice had dropped lower, and when I opened my eyes, his gaze was fixed on my mouth. My scar tingled in response—again—a warm pulse that spread through my whole body.
I cleared my throat. “So, um, you grew up in Cedar Grove?”
“Born and raised.” He took a bite of his souvlaki, and I definitely didn’t watch the way his throat moved as he swallowed. “The Stone family goes back generations there.”
“Must be nice,” I said, aiming for casual. “Having roots like that.”
Something softened in his expression. “You could have roots too, you know. Cedar Grove has a way of growing on people.”
Like his brother Marcus, Caleb seemed oddly invested in my staying. Unlike Marcus, though, whose commanding presence made me want to bare my throat in ways I couldn’t understand, Caleb’s interest felt… warmer. Different, but no less dangerous. Both pulled at something deep inside me—Marcus made me want to submit, while Caleb made me want to curl into his warmth. My instincts weren’t confused about either reaction, even if my brain was.
“We’ll see,” I said, taking another bite of moussaka to avoid those too-knowing eyes. “I’m not really a small-town person.”
“No?” He shifted closer, and my treacherous body immediately responded, swaying toward him. “What kind of person are you then, Kai?”
The way he said my name, soft but certain, made my scar heat up. “The kind who doesn’t usually let gorgeous strangers drive them to dinner in different towns.” I meant it to sound teasing, but it came out breathier than intended.
“Gorgeous, hmm?” His grin was pure trouble. “And here I thought I was being subtle.”
I snorted. “About as subtle as your car.”
“Hey, don’t insult her. She’s sensitive.”
“She?”
“All the best cars are women.”
“Of course they are.” I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Let me guess—you named her something pretentious like Isabella or Victoria?”
His silence was telling.
“Oh my God, you did! Which is it?”
“Sophia,” he admitted, and I burst out laughing.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You like it.” He was right, which was the most ridiculous part of all.
Athena appeared again, this time bearing a plate of baklava that gleamed with honey. “On the house,” she declared. “For bringing me such charming company.”
“Oh, I couldn’t—” I started, but she was already gone in a swish of skirts and determination.
“Best not to argue with Athena,” Caleb said, sliding the plate between us. “She always wins.”
The baklava was perfect—crisp, sweet, and rich with nuts and spices. I tried not to think about how Caleb watched each bite I took or how his hand had somehow found its way to my knee under the table, thumb tracing small circles that sent sparks up my spine.
“Here,” he said suddenly, pulling out his phone. “I should probably have your number. In case anything needs fixing at the cottage.”
“Right. The cottage.” I tried not to smile at his transparent excuse. “Because you’re the maintenance guy?”
“Among other things.” He grinned, unashamed. “Plus, it might be nice to check if you’re free before driving all the way out to kidnap you for dinner again.”
“Ah, so you admit it was kidnapping?”
“Willing kidnapping. The best kind.” He handed me his phone, his fingers brushing mine deliberately. My scar tingled at the contact. “Besides, you had fun.”
I typed in my number, trying to ignore how my hand shook slightly. “Maybe a little.”
“A little?” He took his phone back, immediately sending me a text so I’d have his number too. “I’m wounded.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket. The message just said Hi with a wolf emoji, because of course it did.
“Really?” I showed him the screen, eyebrow raised.
“What? I thought it was appropriate.” His smile turned playful. “I can be quite wolfish when I want to be.”
If he only knew how that made my scar burn.
We lingered over Greek coffee, strong and sweet, served in tiny cups that looked like they belonged in a museum. The restaurant had quieted, most of the other diners gone, leaving us in a comfortable bubble of soft lighting and gentle music. Caleb seemed in no hurry to leave, and honestly, neither was I. There was something almost magical about this moment—the way the candlelight caught his features, how his knee pressed against mine under the table, the lingering sweetness of honey and baklava on my tongue.
“Walk with me?” he asked finally, standing and offering his hand. “The town square is beautiful at night.”
I knew I should say no. Should head straight back to Cedar Grove and my cottage. Instead, I took his hand, letting him pull me to my feet.
The evening air was cool and sweet as we stepped outside, strings of lights twinkling overhead like earthbound stars. Wrought-iron streetlamps cast pools of warm light on the cobblestones, and somewhere nearby, music drifted from an open window.
“It’s like something out of a movie,” I said, taking in the charming storefronts with their display windows still glowing.
“Wait until you see the fountain.” He moved his hand to the small of my back, guiding me around a corner. My scar hummed at the contact, and I didn’t want to pull away.
The square opened up before us, centered around an ornate Victorian fountain where water sparkled in the lamplight. Benches curved around it, and the trees were strung with yet more lights, creating a canopy of soft gold overhead.
“Okay,” I admitted, “this might be worth the drive.”
“Just the scenery?” Caleb asked, turning to face me. In the gentle light, his eyes seemed to glow, and my heart did a complicated flutter in my chest.
“Maybe the company too,” I said softly and watched his smile grow.
We wandered the square, our pace unhurried. Every few steps, Caleb would point out something—the old clock tower that never quite showed the right time, the bookshop that had been running for three generations, the ice cream parlor that made everything in-house. His hand never left the small of my back, and I tried to pretend I wasn’t hyperaware of every point of contact.
“And that’s where I had my first job,” he said, nodding toward a coffee shop with exposed brick walls and oversized windows. “I was terrible at it. Broke three espresso machines in my first week.”
“You? Terrible at something? I’m shocked.”
“I contain multitudes of failure,” he said solemnly, but his eyes danced with humor. “Just don’t tell Marcus. He still brings up the Great Coffee Disaster.”
The mention of his brother sent an unexpected thrill through me. I pushed the thought away, not ready to analyze why just hearing Marcus’ name made my scar tingle.
“You’re thinking too hard again,” Caleb murmured, guiding me toward a bench near the fountain. The mist from the water caught the lamplight, creating tiny rainbows in the air.
“Just trying to figure you out,” I admitted, settling beside him. “You and your brothers.”
“What’s there to figure out?” His arm draped across the back of the bench, not quite touching me but close enough that I could feel his heat.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe why two gorgeous, successful men seem so interested in some random guy who just inherited a cottage?” The words came out sharper than I intended, confusion and attraction finally bubbling over.
Caleb was quiet for a moment, studying me with an intensity that made my scar pulse. In the soft lamplight, his eyes seemed to shift, flickering with an electric blue glow that should have terrified me but instead made something deep inside me stir in recognition. A low rumble, almost like a purr, emanated from his chest.
“You really have no idea, do you?”
“About what?”
He shifted closer, and my body immediately betrayed me, leaning into his space like he had his own gravitational pull. His hand came up to cup my cheek, and the touch sent electricity racing across my skin.
The rumble in his chest deepened, almost possessive, and I caught the flash of something wild in his expression before he controlled it. “How special you are,” he said softly, thumb brushing my bottom lip. His skin felt fever-hot against mine, and the scent of him—pine and leather and something untamed—made my head spin.
I should have pulled away. Should have made a joke, kept things light. Should have been terrified by how inhuman he seemed in that moment. Instead, I froze, caught between the competing urges to flee and to press closer. My scar was singing now, a warm buzz that spread through my whole body, like it was trying to tell me something my mind couldn’t comprehend.
“Caleb,” I whispered, not sure if it was a warning or a plea. My rational mind was screaming that this wasn’t normal, that people’s eyes didn’t glow, that they didn’t growl or purr or make you feel like prey and protected all at once. But my body… my body knew something else entirely.
He leaned in, slowly enough that I could have moved away. I didn’t. Couldn’t. The pull between us felt ancient, primal, like gravity itself. His breath ghosted across my lips, and I caught another flash of that electric blue as my eyes fluttered closed—
A clock chimed somewhere, making me jump. Reality crashed back in, and I jerked away, heart pounding. For a moment, I could have sworn I heard something like a frustrated growl rumble through his chest, but when I looked at him again, his eyes were normal, his expression carefully controlled despite the tension in his jaw.
“I should—we should probably head back,” I stammered, standing so quickly I almost tripped. “It’s getting late.”
Caleb rose more gracefully, but I caught the flash of disappointment—and something darker, more possessive—in his eyes before his easy smile returned. “Of course.”
The drive back to Cedar Grove was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Caleb kept one hand on the gear shift, occasionally brushing my knee, while I watched the trees blur past and tried to make sense of my reactions. Why did my body respond so strongly to him? To them?
When we pulled up to my cottage, Caleb walked me to the door like a perfect gentleman. But there was nothing gentlemanly about the way he looked at me or how my pulse jumped when he stepped close.
“Thank you for dinner,” I managed, fumbling for my keys, trying to ignore how my hands were shaking. Not from fear—which was probably the strangest part of all—but from the way his presence seemed to fill all the space around me, wild and magnetic.
“Thank you for saying yes.” His voice was low, intimate, with an underlying rumble that made my spine tingle. When I glanced up, his eyes were doing that thing again, electric blue bleeding into their normal color like ink in water. “We should do it again sometime.”
“Maybe,” I said, even though we both knew it was a yes. My scar pulsed in time with my heartbeat, like it was trying to reach out to him. The rational part of my brain was still screaming questions—about his eyes, about the inhuman sounds he made, about why my body seemed to recognize something my mind couldn’t grasp—but the rest of me just wanted to lean into his heat.
He smiled, and for a moment I caught a flash of something predatory in his expression. He leaned in, brushing his lips across my cheek, and I could have sworn I felt him inhale deeply, like he was memorizing my scent. The touch sent sparks racing through me, my scar flaring hot enough to make me gasp. His answering growl was so quiet I almost missed it, but it vibrated through me like a physical caress.
“Sweet dreams, Kai,” he murmured against my skin, his voice rough with something wild and barely contained. And then he was gone, moving with an inhuman grace that my mind tried to dismiss but my body remembered.
I stood on my porch, skin burning where he’d touched me, scar humming like a live wire, watching his retreating form. The questions crowded my mind: Why did he sometimes move like something other than human? Why did his eyes glow? Why did my body react to him like he was something I’d been waiting for my whole life? And why, despite all the warning signs that something wasn’t normal here, did I feel safer with him than I ever had before?
Inside, I pressed my forehead against the cool wood of the door and tried to steady my breathing. What was happening to me?
I made it through my bedtime routine on autopilot, mind spinning like a hamster on a particularly caffeinated wheel. The hot shower helped ease the lingering tension in my muscles but did nothing for the ghost of Caleb’s touch that seemed burned into my skin.
“Get it together,” I muttered to my reflection as I toweled off. “So what if he’s gorgeous and charming and probably owns half the town? So what if his brother looks at you like he wants to eat you alive? So what if—” I groaned, dropping my head into my hands. “Oh God, I’m talking to myself. This is fine. Everything’s fine.”
The scar on my hip caught my eye in the mirror, a silvery mark that seemed to shimmer in the bathroom light. It looked different somehow—warmer, almost glowing, the three distinct lines forming their strange triangle pattern more pronounced than usual. Mom would never tell me how I got these marks, changing the subject whenever I asked. But ever since I arrived in Cedar Grove, the scar seemed… alive. Responsive. Especially around Marcus and Caleb, like how it had burned when Caleb touched me earlier. Around other people, it was just a scar, but with the Stone brothers…
I traced the lines with my fingertips, remembering the heat of Caleb’s touch. The marks tingled under my fingers, and for a moment, I could have sworn they gleamed with an otherworldly silver light. I blinked and it was back to normal. Great. Now I was hallucinating.
I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts, trying not to think about how Caleb’s hand had felt on my back or how Marcus had looked at me over coffee this morning or how my body seemed to know something my brain didn’t. The Stone brothers were like different flavors of danger, and here I was, apparently determined to sample the whole menu.
Grabbing my sleeping bag from where I’d left it in the living room—because no way was I sleeping upstairs in this creepy old house yet—I settled onto the floor near the couch.
“Okay, let’s review,” I said to the empty room, because apparently talking to myself was just a thing I did now. “Marcus is all power and control and ‘I could buy and sell your soul but maybe I’ll just keep you instead.’” A shiver ran through me at the memory of his commanding presence. “And their brother Derek…” I paused, remembering how Marcus had mentioned him briefly at lunch. Something told me he’d be just as overwhelming as the others.
“And Caleb…” I touched my cheek where he’d kissed me, my scar warming at the memory. “Caleb is sunshine wrapped around a steel core, and somehow that’s even more dangerous.”
My phone buzzed beside my makeshift bed. Speaking of danger…
Had a great time tonight. Sweet dreams, Kai. —Caleb
I stared at my phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard when it started buzzing with an incoming call. Luke’s face flashed on the screen.
“You’re alive!” Luke’s voice was a mix of relief and accusation. “I’ve been waiting for the ‘help, I’m being murdered’ text all night.”
“Sorry, mom,” I rolled my eyes. “I was a bit distracted.”
“Oh? Do tell. And don’t skip the juicy parts.”
I told him about dinner, about Caleb’s charm and the strange intensity that seemed to run just beneath it. About how my body kept reacting to him in ways I couldn’t explain.
“Hmm.” Luke’s tone had that edge it got when he was worried but trying to hide it. “Just… be careful, okay? Something about this whole situation feels…”
“Weird? Yeah, tell me about it.” I glanced at the window, remembering Caleb’s glowing eyes. “But also…”
“Right?” I could hear his knowing smirk. “Look, just keep texting me. And if anything feels off—and I mean really off, not just hot guy makes me tingly off—you call me immediately. Promise?”
“Promise.” I yawned. “Now, can I go to sleep, or do you need a detailed report of what he was wearing too?”
“Text me tomorrow.” Luke laughed. “And Kai? I mean it about being careful.”
After we hung up, I looked back at Caleb’s message. Something about it made my scar tingle. Like everything else about Caleb, it felt both dangerous and safe at the same time—a contradiction that should have worried me more than it did.
I thought about his glowing eyes in the darkness, that strange rumble in his chest that had made me want to lean closer instead of run away. How everything about him should have screamed danger but instead felt like… home.
I definitely didn’t smile at the message. And I absolutely didn’t spend ten minutes composing a casual “thanks, you too” response. And I most certainly didn’t fall asleep thinking about electric blue eyes and gentle hands and the way my body seemed to recognize something my mind couldn’t comprehend.
In my dreams, wolves ran through moonlit forests, and I wasn’t afraid.
The largest was dark gray, moving like a living shadow through the trees. Another was golden-brown, playful and quick, darting between moonbeams. And the third… the third was pitch-black with eyes that burned like embers in the dark. They circled something—someone—and I realized with a start that it was me.
But I wasn’t scared. Not like I should have been. Instead, I felt… safe. Protected. Like I belonged.
The golden-brown wolf—so familiar somehow—pressed close, nuzzling my hand. Its fur was soft, its eyes electric blue, just like…
I jerked awake, heart pounding, the sleeping bag tangled around my legs. The living room was dark except for slivers of moonlight sneaking through the curtains. Something moved in the shadows outside the window—probably just branches in the wind, but…
A howl echoed in the distance, so faint I might have imagined it. My scar tingled, and I pulled the sleeping bag tighter around me, trying to shake off the dream that felt more like a memory.
“Just a dream,” I whispered to myself, but even as I said it, I knew I was lying. Because for just a moment, in that space between sleeping and waking, I could have sworn I saw three pairs of eyes watching me from the darkness beyond the glass: amber, electric blue, and burning red.
I didn’t sleep much after that.