When Restraint breaks
Gabrielle POV
I wake slowly from a restless sleep full of wolves, eyes and the unknown.
Light filters through the drapes and I stretch aching limbs. My ankle still protests, but not as fiercely as I expect. Maybe it was something Amara put in the tea.
My stomach growls softly. I push up from the pillow and pad out of the guest room, following the quiet pull of the kitchen.
As I reach the doorway, hushed voices drift towards me.
“She didn’t sleep much,” Amara says softly.
“I know,” Luca replies.
A pause.
“Curious how you knew that all the way from the pack house," Amara adds, mild but pointed. "Some might think you were standing guard.”
“I just… knew she might be targeted," he says. "That boy didn't plan this alone. Until we know who he was working with, it was logical to stay nearby.”
A soft clink of china.
“You can’t control everything,” Amara murmurs.
“No,” Luca agrees. “But I can control myself.”
Silence follows.
Another step forward and – they notice my arrival.
"Hi," I say, the words coming out softer than intended. It's like language slips away when he's near.
Amara immediately busies herself, murmuring an excuse as she scurries past me and disappears down the hall, leaving the air strangely charged in her wake.
"I was just after a coffee," I mumble, reaching for the counter.
Our hands reach for the same mug.
It’s nothing – barely a touch – but the instant our skin connects, heat flares sharp and immediate, racing up my arm like my nerves have been struck.
I suck in a breath.
So does he.
We both pull back at once.
For a moment, neither of us speaks.
Luca’s gaze drops to my hand, then lifts slowly to my face. There’s something dark and intent there now. No Alpha, no distance – just longing.
He steps closer.
“I’m trying to keep my distance,” he says quietly. “But you’re making that difficult.”
“Good.”
That’s all it takes.
I barely register the movement before he’s there. His hand comes up, reaching for my hair like he’s been holding back the instinct for days.
His eyes darken in a way that makes my stomach flip, then drop. Like I’ve stepped too near the edge of something deep.
I'm suddenly aware of how close he is, when his breath brushes my cheek. Our foreheads briefly touch, our breath uneven.
“I shouldn’t be here,” he says.
I swallow. “You said– ”
“I know what I said.”
The words come out clipped, controlled. But his hand flexes at his side, fingers curling like he’s holding himself back by sheer will. The other threads through my hair.
“Then why did you come?” I ask, softer now.
His gaze drops to my mouth.
It’s only for a second.
But it’s enough.
Something breaks.
He moves before I can react. Before I can think. One hand catches my wrist, the other comes up to my jaw. His grip isn’t rough, but it’s firm, unyielding, like he’s afraid if he loosens even slightly he’ll lose control entirely.
Then his mouth is on mine.
It’s desperate.
Heat crashes through me, sudden and overwhelming my senses. His kiss tastes like restraint snapping, like something he’s denied himself for far too long.
For one breathless moment, I let myself lean into it. I didn't know a kiss could feel like this. So urgent. Consuming. Like our touching gives him the air he needs to breathe.
The kiss deepens, sensations pooling low and hot. In this moment, there’s nothing other than his mouth and mine. Heat. Pressure. Want.
Desperate. Coarse.
Like a decision he’s done pretending he hasn’t already made.
A sharp intake of breath, his or mine – I can’t tell. Then we stop suddenly.
He pulls away.
Abrupt. Brutal.
The space between us turns cold.
His hands drop as if burned.
When he looks at me now, whatever crack in his expression is gone – sealed behind something hard and impenetrable.
“This can’t happen again,” he says, covering his mouth and turning away.
The words hit me harder than the kiss ever did.
“I–” My voice falters.
His jaw tightens. He looks past me, not at me, like I’m something dangerous. Like looking again will cost him his control.
“This was a mistake,” he says flatly.
My chest aches. “It didn’t feel like–”
“I said it was a mistake.”
Authority has snapped back into his voice. Sharp and absolute. It hurts more than the distance ever could.
He steps further away, increasing the space between us with deliberate care.
“I need to go,” he adds, already walking away.
He pauses briefly, and my heart stutters with hope.
“Maybe it's time for you to return to the other side of the border.”
My heart plummets once more. I don’t move. Not right away.
I can’t.
My lips still burn. My pulse is still racing. My body hasn't caught up to what he's already decided.
But he doesn't look back.
“You should stay away from me, Gabrielle.”
The words hit harder than the kiss ever did
I stay where I am long after he leaves, waiting for my body to catch up to the fact that he's gone.
He's chosen to leave me behind.