Chapter 6 The Warm Alpha

You ever have one of those nights where everything’s so quiet it feels like the world’s holding its breath? That’s how it was when I left the city.

The streetlights faded behind me until they were just little sparks in the dark, like distant stars. I didn’t even know why I was walking that way. Something inside me just… pulled. Old, restless, like a voice whispering, come closer.

It wasn’t fear this time. Not danger. It was… longing. That kind of ache that sits in your chest and doesn’t let go.

The road stretched empty, black and wet. My boots crunched on the soft soil, breath steaming in the air. Half-moon hung low, silver and calm, watching me like it knew where I was headed.

The doctor in me wanted to turn back, get home, pretend I was normal. But the Slayer in me — the part that’s not supposed to exist — stayed quiet.

I wandered off the road, into the trees. Smell of rain, pine, wet earth. A river maybe, somewhere close. Water moving soft, quiet, like it was trying not to wake the world.

And then… silence. Not the kind you notice, the kind that notices you. My pulse slowed. My skin tingled.

He was there before I really saw him.

Standing at the edge of the clearing, half-hidden in shadow. Moonlight hit just enough — broad shoulders, messy brown hair, eyes green and deep, glowing faint in the dark. He didn’t move. Didn’t step forward. Just watched. Not like Kael had — like a predator. This was… waiting. Patient, calm.

Every instinct screamed at me to run. But another one — softer, older — told me to stay.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I said, quiet, my voice cracking a little.

He tilted his head. Faint smile. “Depends on who you think you’re talking to.”

His voice… I can’t explain it. Warm, low, steady. It slides under your skin before you even notice it. Felt like a memory I never lived.

“I’m just passing through,” I said.

“Then we share the same road,” he said.

He stepped forward. Slow. Certain. And somehow the space between us shrank. His scent hit me — cedar, smoke, something sharp. Electric. Familiar. Softer than Kael.

That’s when I felt it. The pull. The bond.

My chest skipped. No. Can’t be.

But moonlight brushed his face, and everything inside me flared. Fire under my skin, the same I’d been trying to ignore, burned hotter.

He stopped close enough that I could see it — a faint scar on his jaw, warmth in his eyes, strength that wasn’t loud or threatening, just… steady.

“Who are you?” I whispered.

He smiled. Soft. “Riven.”

The name hit slow, like it rolled through the air before it landed. Riven Stormborn. Alpha of the pack next to Kael’s. The one everyone talked about like you don’t speak his name unless you mean it.

Why was he here? Alone, so far from his lands?

He didn’t answer that, just looked at me. Really looked. Like I was something he stumbled on by accident but didn’t want to let go.

Something ancient clicked inside me.

“You’re far from the city,” he said.

“So are you,” I said before I could stop.

He nodded. “True. But I don’t belong there.”

“Neither do I,” I said, and damn, it sounded honest. Real.

The forest seemed to hold its breath. The river whispered. Air smelled like earth and rain. And somehow… peace. He didn’t scare me. He steadied me. Warmth without fire. Strength without threat.

Kael had been sharp, like lightning. Riven… Riven was still water. Deep. Quiet. Dangerous in a whole different way.

He looked at my hands. “You’re not human,” he said softly.

I froze.

Not accusing. Not scared. Curious. Gentle.

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

“The way you look at the dark,” he said. “Humans fear it. You… listen.”

I almost smiled. “Maybe I’ve just seen too much.”

He nodded. Eyes never leaving mine. “Still, you carry something. I can feel it.”

I looked away, pretending to check the sky. “You shouldn’t feel anything. Safer that way.”

“Maybe. But wolves don’t choose what they feel.”

Heart skipped. I knew. The wolf beneath his skin, steady, patient, watching through that calm human face.

He stepped closer. Voice lower. “You’re like the moment before a storm — quiet, but full of power. Like if you exhaled too hard, the world would break.”

I blinked. “You read strangers too well.”

“Only the ones I can’t forget.”

That hit harder than it should have.

Something passed between us — quiet, strong. His gaze softened. Pull under my skin stirred again. Fire I’d been scared of now burned steady, recognizing him.

I whispered, “You should go.”

He didn’t move. “I could. But I won’t.”

“Why not?”

His eyes met mine. “Because something tells me… you’re the reason the moon led me here.”

Chest tight. I didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want him to say it.

“Riven,” I said softly. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

He just studied me, calm, intent. “Then tell me.”

I wanted to. Every curse, the mark, the fire I couldn’t control — I wanted to. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

“Some truths hurt too much to touch,” I said.

“Then let me take the pain,” he said, low and certain.

That stopped me. I turned, breath catching. His words weren’t games. He meant it.

We stood like that, the night thick with everything we weren’t saying.

“You should really go,” I whispered.

He exhaled slow. “You can run, but whatever this is… it won’t let us forget tonight.”

The clouds shifted. Moonlight hit us. He saw my eyes — silver faint, glowing.

He froze. Recognition.

I stepped back, letting darkness take me.

“Goodnight, Alpha,” I said.

He didn’t answer. Just stood there, watching me vanish into the trees.

But I could still feel him. That warmth on my skin. Quiet. Persistent.

Somewhere behind me, his wolf howled — low, rough, broken.

And I knew… no matter how far I ran, that sound would find me again.

Because tonight, something changed.

And neither of us could change it.

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