39. Kiss
I stare at the destruction around us—my aunt's home torn apart, emptied, violated.
"Why did he take her?"
"Because he knew you'd walk right into his trap trying to find her."
He pulls off his cap and tosses it aside, running a hand through his hair.
"Well, he's right. I will."
"No, you won't, Communicator."
Not his love anymore, I notice.
Just Communicator.
"What else are we supposed to do?"
"We will—" He stops abruptly, pulling out a small device that looks like a distorted cell phone. His fingers fumble with it for a moment.
"What?" He bites into the device, but a moment later his expression changes completely.
"When?" His voice gets sharper.
I watch his face grow darker as he listens.
"How long?"
His free hand clenches into a fist at his side.
"No. Stay put." A pause.
He ends the call and shoves the device back into his pocket.
What did they say on the call?
He looks different now, his anger consuming him.
It feels like his emotions are somehow in my body—I can almost feel the rage running through my blood, hot and foreign.
But at the same time I feel distant from it, like I'm experiencing something that isn't mine. The sensation is unsettling, like having someone else's heartbeat echoing in my chest.
It's his hearbeat.
A voice whispers in my head.
His eyes scan the destroyed room, taking in the devastation. "That filthy human thinks he can get away with anything."
I look around too and start to cry - this is a mess. A total complete mess.
What have I gotten my aunt into?
I wipe away my tears, but his gaze lands on me, and whatever he sees in my face - the fear, the guilt, the helplessness - makes his anger spike to another level entirely.
"It's about time someone teaches him a lesson." This time his voice sounds different—more wolf than man.
I step back, watching him warily.
It's like his wolf is trying to claw its way out of his skin, distorting his features as he fights for control.
The moment his gaze meets mine, me standing there cautiously, him standing in the middle of the room, panting—something shifts.
I can feel the raw power radiating off him. His breathing is harsh, uneven.
Then I watch him force himself back. His jaw locks, muscles straining as he wrestles for control. The tension flickers, wavers, and then suddenly snaps back.
I can see something in him shut down. Any emotion of anger or frustration is gone in the blink of an eye.
He snaps his control back so hard that something pulls tight in my chest, like an invisible cord being yanked.
What's happening to him?
And what on earth is happening to me?
He grabs my arm, pulling me toward the door.
"Where are we going? What—"
"You're going to hide, and I'll handle it."
"No." I try to stop walking, but he just picks me up and carries me back into the woods.
I struggle against his grip, but then something washes over me—cold, detached, emotionless. It's like ice water flooding my veins, drowning out my panic and fear.
The feeling is so foreign, so completely opposite to my own emotions, that it stops me mid-struggle.
This isn't mine.
This is his wall, his shut-down.
"Please look at me." But he doesn't. Instead, we apparently reach the destination he wanted—my old treehouse.
"You're going to hide here, and I'll pay a visit." He sets me down on the ground.
He's already pulling away from me, but I grab his face with both hands, noticing how his eyes are turning darker now.
"Wait." I say it desperately, my fingers digging into his skin to keep him from looking away. "Look at me."
"I can't do this right now."
"Look at me," I say louder, and something strange happens.
I can feel my own sadness and confusion flowing outward, like it's reaching for him without my permission.
Something changes in him immediately—his body goes completely still, his breathing hitches, and then he sucks in a sharp breath like he's been punched in the chest.
The moment our eyes meet, something clicks between us, like a door slamming open.
Everything crashes back—his pain, raw and overwhelming, hits me so hard my knees buckle.
His arms shoot out instinctively, catching me before I can fall, pulling me against his chest.
He's not controlled or cold anymore.
He's drowning in the deepest pain I've ever felt.
"Please tell me what happened." He looks away, pressing his lips together.
I steady myself against his chest, finding my balance again before slowly straightening up.
"Please." I repeat, standing on my tiptoes and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. I feel him exhale slowly against me.
"Please," I whisper softly, moving to his other cheek, my lips barely brushing his skin.
His eyes flutter closed at the tender touch, and I can feel some of the tension leave his shoulders under my hands. When he opens them again, his gaze locks onto mine with such raw longing that it makes my chest tight.
He takes two steps forward.
"He has someone he shouldn't," he whispers, his voice breaking.
My hands fist in his uniform jacket. "What do you mean?"
"It means it's my fault." His forehead drops against mine, and I can feel him shaking.
His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing over my cheekbones.
The desperation in his voice breaks something open in my chest.
"I'm not letting you go alone," I whisper.
"Alara—"
"No." I grip his jacket tighter. "We do this together, or not at all."
"Fuck, you're..." he looks at me with an almost bewildered stare, shaking his head slowly. Something breaks in his expression.
"When you say things like that," he says, his voice strained, "it makes me want to tell you my darkest secrets."
My mouth opens and closes again. Even when he's being intense like this, there's something about him that draws me in—how his voice sounds almost vulnerable, the way his eyes hold mine.
He steps closer, and I'm forced to step back with him, my hands still gripping his uniform, until he's backed me against the tree.
"When you pull me back from the ice," he presses closer against me, his eyes never leaving mine, "you make me forget the rule I've set for myself."
"What rule?" I ask softly.But he doesn't answer.
"To never tell you," he says, his voice tight with emotion.
I'm pressed against the bark, pinned in place. His hands come up to brace against the tree on either side of my head.
"You have no idea what you do to me," he whispers, and then his mouth finds mine again.
This kiss is entirely different from our first kiss—fierce and consuming, his lips moving against mine with wild intensity.
His mouth is hot and demanding, claiming everything I have to give and asking for more.
Something shifts inside me then—a deep, aching pull that goes beyond desire.
I respond with equal fervor, my teeth grazing his bottom lip, my hands gripping his jacket to draw him impossibly closer.
A low growl rumbles from his chest, the sound vibrating against my mouth and making my lips tingle.
Every cell in my body seems to reach for him, as if I've been incomplete and he's the missing piece.
I breathe him in, desperate to get closer.
My pulse races, but it's not just my heartbeat I feel—there's something wild and untamed flowing through me, something that isn't entirely my own.
It's raw and powerful, coursing under my skin, making me feel more alive than I've ever felt, as if my body recognizes something my mind doesn't understand.
I don't know what's happening to me, but I know with absolute certainty that everything has changed.