Chapter Three: Scent Of Danger

Calla

I was trapped in my own body.

The dream felt too real, bones cracking under my skin, muscles stretching in ways they shouldn't. I was locked in some kind of storage room, my body trying to change into... something. The pain was beyond anything I'd ever felt.

Just as my spine began to bend unnaturally, I felt a flash of heat surged through me. It stopped whatever was happening, but it left me burning from the inside out.

I screamed, the sound echoing off concrete walls....

And suddenly I was awake, gasping for air.

My eyes flew open to an unfamiliar ceiling. Not my bedroom in the mansion. Not even my car. Rough concrete stretched above me, pipes running along exposed beams. Where was I?

I tried to sit up, but my body protested with a deep ache that made me wince. The sheets beneath me smelled clean but masculine, pine, leather and something quite wild that I couldn't name.

"You're finally awake."

The voice startled me. A deep, rough-edged voice that made me shudder despite myself.

I turned my head to find its source and froze.

A man sat in a chair against the wall, watching me with eyes that seemed to glow in the dim light. He couldn't have been more than twenty, but there was nothing boyish about him. All hard lines and sharp angles, with dark hair that curled slightly at his neck and a jawline that looked like it could cut paper.

And he wasn't wearing a shirt.

Tattoos curved across muscles that spoke of violence and power. A long scar ran from his left shoulder down across his chest. His arms were crossed, making his biceps bulge in a way that sent an unwelcome heat rushing through me.

"Who are you?" My voice came out smaller than I intended. "And where am I?"

He tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out. "I think I should be asking you that. What's a woman like you doing crossing into Ravenridge in the middle of the night?"

I clutched the sheet tighter, suddenly aware I was wearing only my thin tank top and underwear.

Someone had undressed me while I was out and that thought made my cheeks burn.

"Ravenridge... I remember seeing the sign before my car broke down." Memory flooded back, Blake, the woman with fangs, my escape.

"Do you know what you are?" he asked bluntly.

The question made no sense, yet it sent a chill down my spine. That woman, Raven if I recalled, had called me something. A werewolf? The word seemed to float up from my subconscious but now it all seemed ridiculous.

"I don't understand," I said, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I needed to leave, to keep running. "Look, thanks for helping me, but I need to go."

He didn't move from his chair, but somehow his presence seemed to expand, filling the room. "Go where? Back to whoever you're running from?"

My breath caught. "How did you...?"

"Your scent." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Fear has a smell. So does desperation."

I stood on shaky legs, looking for my jeans. I spotted them folded on a nearby table.

"My name is Calla," I said, trying to sound braver than I felt. "And I appreciate the help, but I'm leaving now."

I took a step toward my clothes, but suddenly he was there, moving faster than any human should be able to. One moment in the chair, the next blocking my path with his broad chest and those muscled arms.

Up close, he was even more intimidating and something else I didn't want to name. Heat radiated from his bare skin. He smelled like forests and rain and danger.

"I'm Axel," he said, voice low. "And you're not going anywhere until we figure out what's happening to you."

I backed up, bumping against the bed. "Nothing's happening to me. I'm fine."

"Lie." The word was almost a growl. "Your scent is changing by the hour. You crossed our border during a partial shift. And that shouldn't be possible for someone your age."

Shift? Border? None of this made sense, what the hell was this crazy guy saying?

"I don't know what you're talking about," I insisted, though images from last night flashed through my mind, the pain, my bones moving, that strange creature woman calling me a werewolf.

Axel stepped closer, invading my space. I should have been terrified. This strange, dangerous young man had me trapped in an unknown place, talking nonsense. But instead of fear, my body responded with... heat.

A flush spread across my skin. My heart raced, but not from fear. What was wrong with me?

"Your husband," Axel said suddenly, eyes dropping to my hand where my wedding ring still sat. "Did he know?"

I flinched. "Know what?"

"What you are."

I shook my head, confused and frustrated. "Stop talking in riddles! Just let me leave."

"You have nowhere to go," he said, his voice softening slightly. "And you're not safe out there. Not now."

Something in his tone made me believe him, though I didn't want to. "Safe from what?"

Instead of answering, Axel leaned closer. I held my breath as he dipped his head toward my neck, his nose almost brushing my skin. He was... smelling me?

I should have been disgusted. Should have pushed him away. But something primal and new flared inside me at his closeness. A shiver ran down my spine that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with want.

His breath was warm against my skin, and I caught myself leaning toward him, drawn by something I couldn't understand. My body was betraying me, responding to this stranger in ways that made no sense, and worse, made me burn with shame and need in equal measure.

"I want to know that too," he whispered, the word brushing against my neck like a forbidden caress.