Kissed

Selena.

I kept driving until the road stopped making sense. At first, I told myself I just needed to clear my head. Just a few miles, enough to breathe without hearing his voice in my ears.

But the miles kept passing. One after the other. Soon, the world outside my windshield faded into dark trees and empty signs.

My hands ached from gripping the wheel.

I did not know where I was going. I only knew I could not go back. At least, not like this. 

The pack house felt poisoned now. Every corner of it held his presence. His voice. His laughter. 

By the time my vision blurred from exhaustion, I saw a light ahead of me. 

A small bar on the side of the road. The kind with a flickering sign and a parking lot full of dusty cars.

I pulled in without thinking.

Inside, the air was warm and smelled of alcohol and old wood. A few people sat around, some talking quietly, some alone with their drinks.

No one looked at me twice. Which was good. No one here knew me. There were no expectations.

I slid onto a stool and rested my forehead against the bar for a moment. 

The bartender asked what I wanted.

“Anything strong,” I said.

He set a glass in front of me. I only noticed I was shaking when I lifted it and saw the liquid tremble.

I took a slow sip and winced at the burn. It spread through my stomach, warm and sharp, and somehow made me feel real again.

I thought about what Christopher had done. How humiliating it had been to stand there and realize how little our bond meant to him.

I told myself I would not cry.

Then a voice spoke beside me.

“Rough night?”

I looked up.

He sat two stools away, turned slightly toward me. Tall. Older. Broad shoulders. Dark hair that looked messy in a way that felt intentional. His face was calm and confident, the handsome face that required no effort.

Something about him felt out of place in a bar like this, like he belonged somewhere quieter and far more expensive.

What surprised me was not how he looked. It was the way he looked at me. Like I mattered.

For reasons I did not understand, my skin tightened under his gaze.

Not fear. Not exactly an attraction either.

“I guess so,” I said quietly.

He nodded like he understood more than I had said. “You look like someone who did not mean to end up here.”

His voice slid under my skin, and heat pooled low in my stomach. This man had spoken a few sentences and my body was already betraying me.

I let out a short laugh. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to someone who has been there,” he said, shifting a little closer.

I watched him closely. Something about the way he held himself made me aware of every inch of him. Dangerous, maybe—but quiet. His calm made it impossible to look away.

His gaze wasn’t on my body. It was on my face, and it made me feel exposed in a way I couldn’t ignore.

Still, I became painfully aware of how close he was. The heat coming from him. The way my pulse jumped when his knee brushed mine by accident.

I told myself to move away. But my body had other ideas.

“What are you running from?” he asked.

I hesitated. I had not planned to talk. But the words were heavy inside me, and the alcohol loosened something in my chest.

“I was rejected,” I said.

His brow lifted slightly. “By your mate?”

I nodded.

“That is rough,” he said quietly. “What happened?”

I stared into my glass. “He told me he never loved me. That I was his other option. Then he proved it.”

He was silent for a moment. Then he asked, “And what are you planning to do about it?”

I shrugged. “Drink, I guess.”

He studied me. “Or?”

I glanced at him, wanting him to clarify what he meant. 

“Or do something that reminds you that you are still wanted,” he said. “Still alive.”

My cheeks warmed. “I do not sleep with strangers.”

A slow smile touched his lips. “Everyone is a stranger until something happens.”

I shook my head. “That is not who I am.”

“No,” he said softly. “You are someone who gives too much to the wrong people.”

Something in me cracked at his words.

My chest fluttered. My body ached for his touch, even though my mind protested.

He leaned back slightly, giving me space. “For what it is worth, I think you are very beautiful. And it would be a shame for you to sit here hurting over a man who probably is not thinking about you at all.”

The image twisted something inside me.

“I should not,” I murmured.

“Then do not,” he said calmly. “I am not forcing anything. I am only saying you deserve to feel wanted tonight. Whatever that means for you.”

I stared at him for a long moment, weighing the risk against how tired I was of hurting

“How do I know you are not some serial killer?” I asked.

He gave a soft laugh. “You really think that?”

To be honest, he did not look like one. He looked like someone any serial killer would be scared to come close to. Still, there was something about him I could not quite place.

I stared at my drink.

I had spent my whole life being careful. Loyal. Good. And where had it gotten me?

Alone. Rejected. Broken.

Still, spending a night with a stranger felt too risky for me to handle.

I exhaled slowly and shook my head. “I’m sorry,” I said, pushing my glass away. “I’m not interested.”

He studied me for a moment, then smiled. Not offended. Not irritated.

“Fair enough,” he said.

He stood, gave a small nod, and walked away without another word.

I stayed where I was, finishing my drink alone. The buzz dulled the ache but didn’t erase it. When I finally slid off the stool, my legs felt unsteady, my thoughts heavy.

Outside, the night air was cold and quiet.

I headed toward my car.

That was when I heard footsteps.

“Hello,” a man’s voice called.

My stomach dropped.

Three men stepped out from the shadows near the side of the building. Rough-looking. Hard eyes. The kind of men who made your instincts scream before your mind could catch up.

I didn’t need anyone to tell me they were trouble.

I tried to move past them, my heart pounding. “Excuse me.”

One of them blocked my path.

“Relax,” he said with a grin that made my skin crawl. “We just want to have a little fun.”

I glanced back toward the bar and raised my voice. “Someone help me.”

No one came.

A few people looked over, saw who it was, and quickly looked away.

My chest tightened.

One of the men grabbed my arm. “Don’t be scared,” he said. “You’re gonna enjoy this.”

I tried to pull free. “Let go of me.”

They were stronger. Rougher. They shoved me back, and I stumbled, hitting the ground hard. My breath was knocked out of me.

The one who looked like their leader stepped forward, already unbuckling his belt.

“Please,” I begged, panic tearing through me. “Don’t. I’ll do anything.”

They laughed.

Then everything happened at once.

A blur of movement came from behind them. A body hit the first man so hard that he went down without a sound. The second barely had time to turn before he was thrown aside like nothing.

The third lunged.

He never stood a chance.

I scrambled backward, shaking, as one of them collapsed and didn’t move again.

That was when I recognized him.

D.

His expression was dark. Cold. Nothing like the calm man from the bar.

The remaining two froze when they saw him. Real fear crossed their faces.

“It’s him,” one of them whispered in fear.

They ran.

One limped. The other clutched his ribs. Neither looked back.

The silence afterward rang in my ears.

D turned to me. “Are you alright?”

I couldn’t answer.

My hands were shaking. My heart was still racing. But something else was there too. The fact that he had protected me even after I rejected him cracked something in me. 

I have never had someone defend me in my life, not

my parents, not the man I called mate for two years.

The way he had moved. The way they had feared him. Damn, he so fucking hot.

Before I could stop myself, I closed the distance between us.

And I kissed him.