Chapter 9 His Warning, My Decision

The moment he stepped out of the shadows, the night seemed to tighten around us.

Marcus didn’t rush toward me, but the way he looked at me, steady, consuming, intense, like he’d been holding himself back for far too long, made my breath catch. And he looks like he is struggling internally.

My hoodie suddenly felt too thin. The cool air is too warm. “Selena,” he said softly. Just my name. But from him, it felt heavier than it should. I love the way my name rolls off his tongue naturally. And I hate how easily it affected me

I swallowed. “Why were you at my window?”

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze traced my flushed face, the faint tremble in my hands I hoped he didn't notice, the way I hugged myself as if that could shield me from him. 

“You looked” He exhaled slowly, jaw tightening as he spoke. “Distressed.” 

I stiffened. “You were watching me sleep?” I asked. “I was watching over you.” His voice didn’t waver.

I should have been angry. I should have told him to leave. He had been standing outside my home at night. But instead I stepped closer. “Why?” 

His eyes flickered, silver, dangerous, conflicted. “I don’t want to stay away from you. I want to be closer to you.”

 The confession made a small part of me happy.

He lifted his hand slowly, giving me time to pull away. I didn’t. When his fingers brushed my cheek, a breath escaped my lips before I could stop it. His touch was warm, almost too warm.

“Did you come here because of what happened earlier?” I whispered. “Because of the kiss?” 

His thumb paused on my cheek. “Selena,” he said quietly, “I haven’t stopped thinking about that kiss.” My heart dropped and lifted at the same time as I heard the word.

He stepped closer. So close that the heat from his body tangled with mine. My back bumped into the wall beside the staircase, and something flickered in his expression, like he enjoyed seeing me cornered between him and the wall. But he still doesn't touch me. Not yet. He waited.

My hands curled into fists at my sides. My rib hurt from the impact.

“Marcus,” I breathed. A low growl vibrated from his chest. That was all it took for something inside him to snap.

His hand slid to my waist, pulling me into him in one decisive move, firm, demanding, possessive in a way that stole my breath. His lips crashed against mine in a kiss that wasn’t gentle like the one in his office. This one burned.

His lips moved with hunger, fierce and urgent, like he had finally allowed himself to taste what he had been denied. Heat coiled in my stomach as his other hand slipped to the back of my neck, angling my head so he could kiss me deeper. 

I melted against him. Completely. Shamefully.

 My fingers curled into his shirt, gripping him like I needed him to stay close even though I knew I shouldn't. A soft sound escaped me, half gasp, half plea, and Marcus inhaled sharply as if that tiny sound unraveled the little restraint he had left.

He pressed me harder against the wall, his body heat wrapped around me, overwhelming. 

He broke the kiss only to trail down my jaw, my throat, kissing slowly, purposefully like he wanted to memorize me with his mouth. When his lips reached the hollow between my collarbones, a violent shiver rushed through me.

His lips brushed the curve of my shoulder, warm and unbearably gentle. 

Then, everything changed. A tremor ran through him, subtle but unmistakable. His shoulders tensed. His grip on my waist tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to scare me.

His mouth hovered against my skin. Not kissing. Not moving. Hovering. “Marcus?” I whispered.

He didn’t answer. His breath turned uneven, shallow, strained like he was fighting something inside him with every ounce of his will.

Then I felt it. Something sharp grazed my shoulder. Not piercing, just brushing. Canines. My stomach dropped.

“Marcus” I whispered with fear while trying to keep my voice steady, “what going on.”

He jerked back instantly, stumbling away like he’d been yanked by an invisible force. His hand flew to his mouth, covering it, his eyes widened. His breathing was ragged.

“I” He swallowed hard, chest heaving. “I didn’t mean to” My shoulder still tingled where his teeth had grazed me. Almost bitten. Almost. Am sure now, that he is a werewolf. I am scared.

That wasn’t what terrified me. It was the way he looked at me, like he wanted to devour me and run from me at the same time.

“I—I should go,” I whispered. “No.” His voice cracked with tension. “Selena, wait.”

I stopped. Marcus dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily. “I’ve never lost control like that.” His eyes locked onto mine, raw, exposed, almost desperate. “Not once in my life.” Silence stretched between us. Heavy. Uncomfortable.

Then he said something so low I barely heard it: “As I thought you were not strong enough to handle me.”

 The words punched the air from my lungs. A painful echo slammed into me: Humans are weak. Unwanted. Shameful. My stomach twisted. My throat tightened.

Marcus saw the change in my expression instantly. His own expression hardened anger, protectiveness, self-loathing, frustration all tangled together. 

And beneath it, Fear. Not of me. Of himself. 

“Marcus” I whispered, taking a shaky breath.

But he stepped back into the shadow, not running, but distancing himself, like the danger was him.

Then his voice, low and edged with strain, cut through the air:

“If you know what's good for you, stay away from me.” he said and my stomach dropped. “What do you mean?”

Marcus’s jaw clenched. “Just stay away,” he said, voice rough and final. My chest tightened. “Why?” His answer was almost a growl. “Just do as you were told. I can't promise I won't lose control again.” And then. he vanished into the dark.

Leaving me alone, shaking, breathless, confused and painfully drawn to him. 

I stood there for several seconds, trying to steady my breathing. My hand went instinctively to my shoulder. The skin still tingled where his teeth had grazed me. Not piercing. Not marking. But close. Too close.

I walked back into the apartment. The hallway felt colder than outside. I went straight to my room every step, a question. I locked the door and slid down against it, trembling.

The moment I closed my eyes, the memory of the kiss returned uninvited.

Warm. Suddenly. Intense.

I hated how easily my mind replayed it, the heat of his mouth, the way his hands had pulled me into him, the sound of his breath against my skin. It wasn’t just a kiss, it was the kind that melted every piece of logic I had left. The kind that felt inevitable.

I could still feel the heat of his lips on mine. I could still hear the growl in his chest when I whispered his name. The way his breath had brushed against my cheek, the way his hands had hesitated for half a second like he was fighting himself.

 I could tell that Marcus wasn’t the type of man to lose control easily. So why did he lose control with me? And that terrified me more than the nightmare.

What if it was just impulse?

What if it meant nothing to him?

What if he regretted it already?

I buried my face in my hands. I shouldn’t have let it happen. I shouldn’t have wanted it. I shouldn’t be thinking about it. But I couldn't help it.

Buy, because for the first time in a long time, for a brief moment, I didn’t feel abandoned or unworthy. I felt wanted. Chosen. Claimed even if it wasn’t real.

And that was the most dangerous feeling of all. Too dangerous.

I walked to the bed and lay on it, staring at the ceiling, wide awake, unsettled, and my heart thudding painfully. Marcus telling me to stay away, did he mean I should not come to work again.

I knew I should listen. But I also knew I wouldn’t.

“I will go tomorrow,” I whispered into the darkness. “I have to. I can lose my job. I will face anything that comes”

And as the room grew quiet, one truth settled cold and heavy in my chest:

Why does it feel like everything is changing?