2: When pigs fly

Jasmine 

By the time I finished my remaining chores and slipped out, the moon was high. My body was exhausted, but the bond in my chest pulled me forward like an invisible wire.

The moment I pushed the wooden door open, the heavy, suffocating scent of dark amber and ozone hit me.

Garrett didn't just occupy the room; his towering, massive frame seemed to consume every inch of it. He was pacing with a slow, predatory stillness, his jaw clenched, every corded muscle in his back taut like a coiled spring. His aura vibrated with a dark, suffocating weight that made the very air feel thick.

The second his dark eyes locked onto mine, the air dropped ten degrees. The feral edge in his expression snapped into absolute, unyielding focus. He crossed the space between us with lazy, lethal strides, his massive build instantly trapping me against the heavy wooden door frame.

He didn't just grab me  he swallowed my space entirely. His broad chest pressed flush against mine, caging me in before his scorching hand shot up to clamp around the back of my neck.

He pulled my face up, burying his jaw in the curve of my throat, letting out a low, shuddering growl that vibrated straight into my ribs. The second his skin hit mine, the chaotic aura rolling off him settled into something quieter, steadier.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, fighting the instinct to surrender entirely to his weight. He was really tense these days. Was it the elders? The looming Alpha seat?

"You're late," he rumbled, his voice dropping into a low register that sent a shiver straight down my spine.

"I had chores," I whispered, my fingers tracing the muscle of his back.

Garrett tilted his head back just enough to stare down at me, burning with an unblinking heat. "I told you never to keep me waiting, Jas," he purred, his thumb pressing possessively into my pulse point until my heart hammered against his palm.

"Stop the stupid chores. I can give you everything you need right here."

"I can't," I whispered, my voice trembling under his gaze.

"Damn it, Jasmine," he growled low in his throat. "I missed you."

His mouth crashed down on mine, not with haste but with a commanding authority that stripped away my thoughts entirely. His lips parted mine with a ruthless hunger, claiming my breath until my brain melted into static.

Garrett lifted me effortlessly, my legs locking around his hips as he pressed me back against the wall before carrying me to the mattress. His hands tore through the lace and cotton of my uniform with a sharp rip, fingers leaving scorching imprints on my thighs.

He pinned my wrists above my head, his body heavy over mine. His free hand roamed over my bare chest, thumb dragging rough calluses over sensitive skin before his mouth moved down to torment the peak of my breast until a helpless moan tore from my throat.

I was trapped, and I didn't want to be anywhere else. My hands fisted in his shirt the second he freed my wrists, frantic to strip away the last barrier between us.

Garrett stepped back only long enough to shed the rest of his clothes, naked and unapologetically male in the dim light. He didn't rush. He held my eyes as he guided himself to my entrance, pushing slowly, deliberately inside of me. A breathless gasp broke from my lips — one he silenced with his mouth, drinking my whimpers as he filled me to the hilt.

Before I could adjust to the stretch, his hands gripped my waist and flipped me onto my hands and knees. He took me from behind with a rhythmic, relentless cadence, fingers digging into my hips, and every thrust shook the bed frame and sent violent waves of sensation crashing through me until I couldn't remember my own name.

The night stretched on that way, hungry and unhurried by turns, until we were both spent and tangled in the sheets.

I lay in the quiet dark, watching him gradually fall asleep, my fingertips tracing the familiar scars across his back. It was in moments like this that I could feel the faint stirrings of my bond, as if my dormant wolf was reaching out, taking comfort in her mate's presence.

This man completed me in so many ways.

I carefully slipped out from under the warmth of his body and began picking up my scattered clothes. I groaned when I found my underwear — shredded again. Yet another pair ruined. I was running out of them because he had a habit of tearing them off me and keeping them.

A hand clamped around my wrist like an iron cuff. Garrett yanked me back toward the mattress, his gaze studying my face in the shadows.

"What's on your mind, Kitten? You're quiet tonight," he whispered.

"Nothing," I said with a small, breathless laugh, trying to pull away.

He rose from the mattress, stepping onto the hardwood floor, radiating the effortless, dangerous elegance of a future Alpha even naked and half-asleep.

"Doll," he insisted, his tone leaving zero room for argument.

I drew in a breath to ground myself. "I want to become a healer. I want to apply to the central College."

Garrett paused. A dry, amused chuckle escaped him as he reached for his sweatpants. "Right. When pigs fly," he muttered.

I gasped.

He looked back at me, and when he saw the fierce, unblinking intensity in my gaze, the amusement drained from his face. "Wait... you're serious?"

"I am," I said, my voice steady despite the sudden trembling in my knees.

His expression hardened. The warmth from moments ago evaporated like it had never been there.

"Don't you need a wolf for that? You have to be able to channel pack energy to close wounds, Jasmine."

"I don't need a wolf to study holistic medicine," I argued, stepping closer. "The college has a branch for traditional apothecaries and herbalists. I'd have to leave the pack for the entrance exams—"

"That college is far from this pack," he said flatly.

"Yes, but I can—"

"You're not going," he cut me off, his voice dropping into a low, terrifying finality.

I breathed in sharply, the rejection stinging like a slap. "Excuse me?"

"I've spent years studying this, Garrett," I said, my voice smaller than I wanted it to be. "This is what I want."

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, looking at me like I was a child asking for the moon.

"I'm being real with you. There's more to being a healer than mixing potions and drying leaves, don't you think?" He stepped closer, his eyes empty of the heat that had been there minutes ago. "You have no wolf. You have no healing essence."

I flinched like he'd struck me.

"What... what are you saying?"

"I'm saying stay here, where it's safe. I can give you everything you want, Jasmine." He turned his back to me. "This isn't possible. Be realistic about what you are."

The words landed exactly where the Lunas' words always landed — in the same old bruise. I'd spent my whole life being told what I wasn't. I hadn't expected to hear it from him, in this room, after everything.

He must have felt something shift in the bond, because he turned back and reached for my face. I stepped out of his hands before he could soften it with a kiss.

"Don't," I said quietly.

He froze. "Jasmine—"

"You don't get to say that to me and then kiss it better." My voice shook, but I held his stare. "You don't get to decide what I'm realistic about."

Something flickered across his face — not quite regret, not quite surprise, like he wasn't used to a room where charm didn't work. "That's not what I meant."

"It's exactly what you meant." I bent down and picked up my torn underwear off the floor, not looking at him. "I need to go."

"Jas." His voice had lost its edge of command. It almost sounded uncertain, which was somehow worse than the coldness. "Wait—"

"I have chores in the morning," I said, and it wasn't true, not really, but it was the only door I had left to walk through.

He didn't stop me again. I felt his eyes on my back the entire time I dressed, felt the bond pulling taut and unhappy between us, but for once he let the silence sit instead of filling it with his hands.

I slipped out into the cool night air before the ache in my chest could turn into something he'd see on my face. Behind me, I heard nothing no footsteps, no low command to come back. Just the door, and the dark, and the long walk back to the outer section alone.

**

Did you guys hear the news?" one of the senior kitchen maids whispered loudly that afternoon, leaning over a pile of peeled potatoes. "Giselle is coming back. She's due to return next week. I heard them talking about her flight."

I froze at those words.

My fingers went completely numb, losing all grip on the porcelain spice jar I was holding. It slipped from my hand, crashing against the tiled floor and shattering into a dozen sharp, white pieces. The dark, fragrant powder scattered everywhere.

"Jasmine! What on earth is wrong with you today?" the head cook snapped, looking over. "Do you have any idea how expensive what you just broke is?!"

But I could barely hear her. The blood had completely drained from my face, leaving me cold and lightheaded. My breath hitched in my  as the other maids stared at me, openly whispering and wondering why the mere mention of a name had turned me into a ghost.

"I... I'm sorry," I stammered, my voice barely a squeak. "I'll clean it up."

Giselle. She was my living, walking nightmare.

Growing up, I was always compared to her, the golden child of the late Beta’s legitimate household. But what made it a thousand times worse wasn't just the pack's favoritism, it was Giselle's terrifyingly fake personality. 

To the world, she was a radiant, graceful angel who could do no wrong. She was the perfect princess. But behind closed doors, she had a sick, twisted habit of setting me up for failure, orchestrating accidents, and making me look malicious, all while wearing a sweet, innocent smile that made everyone rush to protect her.

If she was coming back, it meant my quie t life was about to become a living hell. And worse... she was the woman the pack believed was to be mated to Garrett.

My Garrett.