CHAPTER 2

I woke with a start, disoriented, only to realize Thorne was still pressed against me, his body heavy and warm, half-wrapped around mine.

For a few heartbeats, I couldn’t breathe.

His head rested against my shoulder, his breath tickling my skin with every exhale. His arm was draped possessively across my waist, fingers twitching lightly even in sleep, as if afraid I would vanish.

A dangerous, forbidden thrill coursed through me.

For a moment, I simply laid there, paralyzed by the heat of his body against mine. I could feel every muscle pressed to me, every slow, steady thrum of his pulse where his chest brushed my back. His scent enveloped me — rich, smoky, threaded with something wilder, darker.

Part of me wanted to pull away.

Another part — the louder part — ached to press closer.

Slowly, I shifted, trying not to wake him, but the moment I moved, his hold tightened, a deep growl vibrating from his chest into mine.

"Stay," he muttered hoarsely, voice raw with sleep.

I froze.

Thorne’s nose brushed my throat again, and this time, it wasn’t accidental. He inhaled me slowly, deeply, as if memorizing my scent, and a low, rumbling sound escaped his throat — not a growl this time, but something hungrier.

Heat flooded me, settling low in my stomach, thick and heavy.

I swallowed hard, my throat working around the sudden lump of need.

I knew I should move, should create distance.

I didn't.

His hand slid slightly, fingers curling against my hip, possessive, claiming.

I could feel the tension crackling in the tiny space between us, feel the invisible line trembling under the weight of something dangerous and undeniable.

For a second, it almost snapped.

His face lifted, and his half-lidded amber eyes met mine — feral, burning, confused. The world outside ceased to exist. It was just us, breathing the same stolen air.

He leaned in, his lips ghosting over the edge of my jaw, feather-light but devastating. His scent flooded my senses — earthy, smoky, addictive.

I didn’t know if he understood what he was doing.

I didn’t know if I cared.

My hand slid instinctively up his bare back, feeling the raw strength there, the shudder that ran through him at my touch. He made a low, broken sound deep in his chest, pressing closer, like he couldn't help it.

The blanket between us slipped lower, and suddenly, I was far too aware of how little separated our bodies.

Thorne's thigh brushed against mine, warm, solid — and unmistakably aroused.

I gasped, my heart thudding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. His fingers tightened on my hip again, nails biting into my skin through the thin fabric of my clothes.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything — but all that came out was a shaky breath.

Our lips were this close.

One more breath and we would collide.

One more heartbeat and I'd lose myself.

His forehead pressed lightly against mine, and for a fleeting second, I thought he would kiss me — really kiss me, no confusion, no hesitation.

His breath fanned over my mouth.

"Why do you smell like..." he whispered against my lips, his voice rough with something raw, feral, "like you belong to me?"

The words hit me like a punch to the gut.

A whimper escaped my throat before I could choke it back.

I saw the change in his eyes then — confusion sharpening into something darker, something territorial.

His hand skimmed up my side under my shirt, calloused fingers brushing heated skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

My back arched instinctively into his touch, seeking more.

He growled low in his throat, a sound that vibrated against my ribs, stirring something primal deep inside me.

And gods help me — I wanted him.

I wanted this feral, broken alpha whose soul called to mine in ways I didn't understand.

I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anything.

I tilted my chin up in silent invitation, heart hammering painfully against my ribs.

But just as his lips were about to claim mine —

A savage howl ripped through the forest, too close.

Thorne jerked up instantly, senses snapping back to brutal awareness. He was on his feet before I could blink, his body tensed for battle, his eyes burning gold with rage.

The moment shattered like glass.

I scrambled up after him, my body still aching from the sudden loss of his touch, from the fierce pull that had nearly dragged me under.

"What’s happening?" I gasped, my voice shaking.

He didn’t answer. He was already moving — all lethal grace and focused violence — grabbing the rusty dagger from the table, his muscles rippling under scarred skin.

Another howl, closer this time.

And heavy footsteps — multiple — fast, surrounding us like a tightening noose.

My instincts screamed at me to move, to run, but my legs were rooted to the ground, too dazed from what had almost happened between us.

Thorne turned to me sharply, his face carved from stone, only his eyes betraying the wild fear and fury beneath.

"Run," he growled.

"But—"

"RUN!"

Another crash — this one just outside the door.

I stumbled back instinctively as shadows loomed through the broken windows.

Thorne bared his teeth in a snarl, crouching low like a predator ready to spring.

Before I could move, the door shattered inward with a deafening crash.

And through the broken frame stepped the pack.

Not just any wolves — hunters.

Their eyes gleamed with malice, their claws extended, and the smell of bloodlust filled the air.

They weren’t here to capture Thorne.

They were here to kill him.

Thorne lunged without hesitation, a brutal snarl ripping from his throat. He met the first attacker head-on, driving the dagger into the wolf's side with a sickening crunch.

Blood sprayed across the floor.

I stumbled back, heart slamming against my ribs.

Another hunter tried to flank him, but Thorne moved with terrifying speed, spinning low and slashing deep across the hunter’s thigh. The man howled, collapsing to the ground.

But there were too many.

Too fast.

They swarmed through the broken doorway like a tide of death.

Thorne fought like a demon, savage and unrelenting, but I could see the truth — he was losing ground.

I had to do something.

I grabbed the nearest thing I could find — a splintered piece of chair — and swung it wildly at the closest hunter. It connected with a satisfying crack against his head.

He stumbled, dazed.

Thorne caught my eye across the chaos, something wild and furious and grateful flashing in his gaze.

But it was too late.

A massive wolf — easily twice the size of the others — lunged from the shadows, slamming Thorne into the wall with a brutal crash.

I screamed, frozen in horror as Thorne crumpled to the ground, blood dripping from his mouth.

The wolf turned toward me, eyes glowing with feral hunger.

And I realized with bone-deep certainty:

I was next.