Craving the wolf

The soft hum of my husband's breathing filled the dimly lit bedroom, his arm draped over my waist as if he could hold me there forever. I laid still beneath the covers, my body warmed by his presence, but my mind was elsewhere already planning my escape.

I turned my head slightly, my gaze settling on James. His dark hair was tousled against the pillow, strong jaw relaxed in sleep. Even in unconsciousness, he was handsome, perfect, really. A good man, a loyal husband. But If only he knew the truth.

If only he knew that the woman he kissed goodnight, the woman he trusted with his heart, was secretly a werewolf hunter.

Every full moon, I slipped out of bed, put on my gear, and went to war. I had killed more werewolves than I could count. But James could never know. He believed in peace, in justice within the confines of the law. If he knew what I truly was, what I did when he slept soundly beside me, he wouldn't just be heartbroken. He would never forgive me.

I pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, lingering just a moment longer. "I love you," I whispered... A lie? or maybe it wasn't. Maybe I loved him, the version of myself that didn't exist.

His arm slackened as his breath deepened. He was asleep. Time to go.

I slid out of bed, moving silently across the room. My black gear was waiting in the closet, leather straps hugging my thighs, a fitted bodysuit designed for movement, knives and silver-loaded guns hidden in strategic places. As I tied my dark hair into a tight ponytail, my phone buzzed.

Coordinates received. "Pack sighting confirmed". "Eliminate".

I inhaled deeply. Another hunt. Another night drenched in blood. With one last glance at James, I slipped into the night.

The location sent by the organization led me to a desolate industrial site on the outskirts of town. The smell of rusted metal mixed with something darker, the scent of werewolves.

I kept low, my fingers gripping the silver-bladed dagger at my hip. The full moon overhead bathed the landscape in pale light, revealing movement in the shadows. My heartbeat steadied. The thrill of the hunt always calmed me. Then, they attacked.

Four of them leaped from the darkness, claws gleaming, eyes burning amber. They weren't just any wild werewolves. They were pack warriors. Stronger And faster, More controlled than average. But not faster than my blade.

I twisted, slicing one's throat open before rolling beneath another's clawed swipe. Silver bullets met fur and flesh, sending beasts howling into the night. Two fell instantly, writhing in agony.

And then there was one. The leader.

He was bigger than the rest, a monster in his own right, His fur as black as the void.

I made a mistake, this wasn't a hunt, this was an ambush. I lunged, blade aiming for its throat, but it was too fast. He dodge my strike and hit me to the ground with one of his paw, Stepping on my write wrist snapping it like a twig. I choked on the pain, dropping my knife as his other paw slammed into my stomach, sending me flying into a crumbling wall. Blood filled my mouth. My vision blurred.

"This is it. This is how I die," I thought I was about to give up Then, out of nowhere  a blur of motion. A growl that sent shivers down my spine.

Before I could understand what was happening, the massive werewolf was ripped away from me, flung into the concrete as if he was a fly waiting to be swat.

I blinked, dazed, as my savior stepped between me and death itself. And I forgot how to breathe. Standing on two legs, Towering and broad-shouldered, his body rippled with raw power. His fur was silver, not gray, but molten silver that shimmered beneath the moonlight. His golden eyes flickered with something ancient, something dangerous. I have only ever heard stories from my seniors of werewolf's being able to stand on two legs, I thought it was just a myth considering I've been a werewolf hunter for so long, killed hundreds of wolves and has never seen one this big. 

This must be what they call a hybrid wolf, a wolf much more ruthless than an alpha.

During all that was happening I somehow notice that he or it was gorgeous. The kind of beauty that shouldn't belong to something so deadly.  And yet, as he turned to look at me, there was no cruelty there. Only concern.

He put his right hand towards me as if he was signaling me to stay back, While the rest of his body was intensely focused on his opponent. I could not understand why he was defending me. It was the perfect time to try and escape while they were fighting but Instead, I watched, mesmerized, as he ripped through the werewolf leader like a force of nature. The battle was brutal, teeth against claws, a savage dance of dominance. My attacker never stood a chance.

When it was over, my savior stood above the fallen beast, chest rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths. Then, he turned to me.

 His golden eyes swept over me, his gaze darkening at the sight of my broken wrist, the blood seeping from my wounds, The expression showed concerned, I tried to act tuff showing him that I did not want any pity but the pain was sharp, making my vision swim. He moved closer. I stiffened, instinct telling me to run, but my body was too weak to obey.

I tried getting up but my body crumbled under the pain, I was about to fell back to the ground, His hands was already around me stopping me from falling, kneeling beside me. His touch was surprisingly gentle while still in his werewolf form as he reached for my wrist, fingers warm against my skin.

"You know what I am?" I breathed. A smirk ghosted his lips, revealing sharp, wicked fangs. based on his expression I could tell he know that I was  hunter.

And yet, he hadn't kill me.

I should have been disgusted by him, by the way he smelled of the forest and raw masculinity. But I wasn't. Instead, I was drawn to him.

His fingers brushed against my cheek, and for a moment, I swore I saw something in his eyes—something primal. Something wanting.

His hears shot up instinctively, howling in the distance.

He stood, lifting me as if I weighed nothing. His warmth seeped into my frozen body, his scent wrapping around me like a drug. I should have fought him. Instead, I let him take me away.

And as I lay against his broad chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart against my skin.

I blanked out due to exhaustion and a few moments later woke up as he was laying me

down on

the floor with gentle ease in this abundant building, it felt like I was about to pass out again when I felt his fingers touching my cheek, My eyes slightly opened and I could see the look of concern on his face.

I gritted my teeth. Confused as to why a beast like him would be helping me. Slowly I reached into a pouch strapped to my waist,  reaching inside I pulled out a vial of werewolf's blood mixed with a few more ingredients.

The organization had warned us, werewolf blood was potent, but it was also addictive. Mixed with the right ingredients, it could heal injuries instantly. But drink too much, and you risked becoming dependent on it... or worse. We are only to use it as a last resort.

With one hand broken I tried to drink it myself, he notice that I was struggled and took the vial and opened it.

"Drink," No words just an expression on his face but I could tell that is what I was instructing me to do.

I cursed under my breath because he had to be feeding me because of the condition I was in. The moment the thick, warm liquid hit my tongue, my body reacted.

Heat. Fire. Electricity.

The pain vanished in an instant, my broken wrist snapping back into place, my wounds sealing shut. My strength returned like a surge of adrenaline, too fast, too unnatural. I gasped, gripping my arm where only moments ago, bone had jutted out beneath my skin.

I met his gaze. "What the do they put in this stuff,"

A ghost of a smirk touched his lips, has he turned around about to leave.

I tried to stand, but my legs were still unsteady. He caught my arm, his grip firm but careful, as if he didn't want to break me.

His scent surrounded me. earthy, wild, with a hint of something dark and masculine.

"Who are you?" I asked, voice quieter than I intended.

He looked into my eyes for what felt like hours after I asked that question. Slowly I could feel his hands getting small as he hold me, his body decreasing in size and his appearance become more human like but even more attractive.

I could tell that he was careful, he did not fully transformed back to a human and he kept his face hidden as his uttered "My name is..." He leaned in just slightly, his breath brushing against my ear as he whispered, "Dante Salvador." His voice was deep but comforting.

The name curled through my mind like smoke. And then, in a blink, he was gone. One moment he was holding me up, and the next, he was a blur vanishing into the shadows.

I turned in every direction, scanning the dark, ruined building, my hunter's instincts on high alert. But nothing.

Only the faint scent of him remained. And the lingering heat of his touch on my skin.