24. You bit me first
Then I catch it—voices, getting closer.
"—told us not to go past the tree line," someone says. A man, nervous.
"Yeah, well, they also told us to find the Communicator," another voice responds. "Priority one, remember? The pack's secondary."
"She's a traitor. Worse than them, if you ask me," a third voice spits. "At least wolves are enemies. She's supposed to be one of us."
"I'm not going in there," the nervous one insists. "You know what they say about wolves in their own territory."
"So what's your plan? Stand here and hope she walks out?"
"The street's neutral ground. Peace treaty says both species can use it without violence. We stay here, we're protected by law."
He makes a low sound in his throat, so quiet only I can hear it. His hand is still over my mouth, and I can feel the tension coiling through him.
"Look, if she comes to the road, we grab her. If not, we report back. I'm not dying for a traitor."
"Fucking coward," someone mutters.
"Smart," the nervous one corrects. "The treaty protects us here."
"That won't protect you," he breathes against my ear, so soft it's barely sound. There's something dangerous in his voice, something that makes my stomach drop.
Without thinking, I grab his wrist with both hands. The moment my fingers wrap around him, he goes still. His eyes flick down to mine.He slowly lowers his hand from my mouth, but I don't let go of his wrist. I can't. Not when I can feel the violence humming through him like electricity.
"Fine," one of the voices says. "Five more minutes. Then we report that the traitor is probably already dead anyway."
The growl that starts building in his chest is pure predator. Without thinking, I slap my free hand over his mouth, the same way he did to me moments ago. I can feel the vibration of the suppressed growl against my palm.
Please, I mouth silently. Please don't.
Something shifts in his expression. The gold in his eyes flickers. Slowly, deliberately, he raises his free hand and wraps it around my wrist—not to pull my hand away, but just to hold it.
The voices are finally moving away, their footsteps fading down the road. But neither of us moves.
He raises his eyebrows at me. But before I can pull my hand away, I feel it—the gentle press of teeth against my palm. Not painful, just... there.
I try to jerk my hand back but he still holds it against his mouth. He doesn't hurt me, just keeps me there, and then—oh god—he does it again. A deliberate, teasing nibble that sends heat shooting up my arm.
My whole body goes rigid. Not from fear, but from something else entirely. Something that makes my stomach flip and my breath catch.
His eyes never leave mine as he slowly lowers my hand, still holding my wrist. His thumb brushes over where his teeth just were, and I have to bite my lip to keep from making a sound.
"You bit me first," he says quietly, his voice deeper than before.