CHAPTER 3

Lycus’ POV

The moon hung high in the sky as I made my way back to the stream. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. The way she had bolted from me, her scent lingering in the air like a haunting melody. My wolf had been restless ever since, pacing inside me, urging me to find her again. She was mine, my mate, and no amount of running could change that.

The path to the stream was quiet, the forest alive with the sounds of night creatures, but my senses were trained on something far more important. I had a feeling she would come back. Wolves were drawn to water when they needed to think, to heal. And judging by the look in her eyes earlier, she had a lot to heal from.

When I reached the stream, the soft sound of someone crying caught my ear. I moved silently, keeping my footsteps light as I scanned the area. And then, I saw her.

She was huddled by the water, her shoulders shaking as silent sobs wracked her body. Her white hair glowed in the moonlight, a stark contrast to the dark forest around her. I moved closer, and that’s when I noticed the blood on her hands, staining the pale skin red. There were marks on her arms too—bruises, fresh cuts that marred her otherwise flawless skin. Anger surged through me, hotter than anything I’d felt in a long time. Who had done this to her?

She sensed my presence and looked up, her violet eyes wide with panic. Without thinking, she scrambled to her feet, ready to run again.

"Stop," I growled, reaching out and grabbing her wrist before she could flee. Her skin was cold to the touch, and her pulse raced beneath my fingers.

"Stay still," I commanded, my voice softer but firm.

She froze, staring up at me with those doe-like eyes, her chest heaving with fear. My heart ached seeing her like this—broken, wounded. My wolf snarled inside me, demanding justice, but I kept my focus on her. Whoever had hurt her would pay. I would see to that personally. But first, I needed to calm her down.

"Who did this to you?" I asked, my voice low, trying to keep my anger in check.

She didn’t answer. She just kept staring at me, her lips parted as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words. Her hands were trembling in mine, her blood smearing onto my skin, but she didn’t pull away. Something in her eyes told me that this wasn’t the first time she had been treated like this.

I took a deep breath, trying to control the fire burning inside me. "What’s your name?" I asked gently, hoping she would at least tell me that.

But still, she said nothing. The silence between us was thick, her gaze locked on mine, her body rigid with fear. She looked like a frightened animal, cornered with no way out.

I couldn’t stand seeing her like this. I hated it. I hated the fear in her eyes, the pain written across her features. Slowly, I brought her bloodied hands to my lips, pressing a gentle kiss against her knuckles. She flinched at the contact, but didn’t pull away.

"I can make the pain go away," I whispered, letting my lips brush against her skin.

Her eyes softened slightly, the fear fading just a little. I moved closer, lowering my head so I could kiss the bruises on her neck, my lips grazing the tender skin where the marks stood out like a map of her suffering. Her breath hitched, and I could feel her pulse quicken beneath my lips.

Something inside me snapped, the primal urge to protect her, to claim her, rising to the surface. I tilted her head up gently and kissed her lips, the contact sending a jolt of electricity through my body. She responded, hesitantly at first, but then her hands gripped my shirt, pulling me closer as our kiss deepened. The world around us faded, leaving only the two of us—our bodies pressed together, our breaths mingling as desire coursed through me.

I wanted her. I wanted her more than I had ever wanted anything in my life. But as my hands slid down her back, feeling the curve of her body against mine, something stopped me.

I pulled away, my breathing ragged, and stared down at her. Her eyes were wide, her lips swollen from the kiss, her hands still clinging to my shirt. She was beautiful, so damn beautiful, and she was mine. But this wasn’t how I wanted it to be.

Not like this.

"Go," I rasped, stepping back, forcing myself to break the connection between us.

Her brow furrowed in confusion, her hands loosening their grip on me. "But—"

"Go," I repeated, my voice harsher than I intended. "Before I do something you’ll regret."

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching mine as if trying to understand why I was pushing her away. But then she nodded, stepping back slowly. Her hands fell to her sides, and she turned, disappearing into the shadows of the forest.

I stood there for a long time, my body still humming with the aftershock of our kiss. My wolf howled in frustration, demanding I go after her, claim her, make her mine. But I couldn’t. Not like that.

I clenched my fists, trying to get control over the raging storm inside me. She had been hurt enough. I wasn’t going to add to her pain.

With a frustrated growl, I turned and headed back to the pack house. The gathering had ended, and the house was quiet now, but I didn’t care. I needed to be alone, to think, to figure out what the hell I was going to do next. Because there was no way in hell I was letting her go. She was mine, and I would protect her with everything I had.

When I reached my room, I stripped off my shirt and collapsed onto the bed, my mind racing. Images of her flashed through my mind—her pale hair, her violet eyes, the way she had looked at me as if I were the only thing standing between her and the rest of the world. I closed my eyes, trying to block it out, but sleep claimed me faster than I expected.

And that’s when the dream came.

I was standing in the forest again, the stream running quietly beside me. She was there, just as before, but something was different. Her hands were no longer bloodied, and there was no fear in her eyes. Instead, she stood tall, a sword gripped tightly in her hands, her expression cold and unyielding.

I called out to her, but she didn’t respond. She lifted the sword, her movements slow and deliberate as she approached me. My heart raced, confusion and disbelief flooding my mind. This wasn’t right. Why was she coming at me like this?

And then, before I could react, she brought the sword down in a swift arc. I felt the cold steel press against my throat, the weight of it enough to force me to my knees. I looked up at her, my breath caught in my chest.

She stared down at me, her eyes as cold as ice.

And then, with one final swing, she brought the sword down to my neck.

I woke up with a startle, my heart pounding, my body drenched in sweat.