His redeeming light

Belle's POV

I didn’t know werewolves existed.

Not officially.

I knew powerful men existed. Dangerous men. Men who owned cities without ever showing their faces. Men people whispered about instead of named.

Lucian Andrews was one of those men.

I just didn’t know it yet.

The first thing I noticed was the silence.

New York never goes quiet, but as I stepped out of the bar and onto the sidewalk, the noise dulled, like the city itself was holding its breath. My head was already pounding from cheap wine and bad decisions, and I just wanted to get home without thinking too hard about my life.

That was when my chest tightened.

It wasn’t pain.

It wasn’t fear.

It was awareness.

I stopped walking and frowned, my hand tightening around my phone as I glanced around. People were still moving, cars still passing, laughter still spilling out of the bar behind me.

Everything looked normal.

But my body didn’t believe it.

I felt watched.

I turned slowly.

He stood across the street, half in shadow, tall enough that he stood out even without trying. Black coat. Dark hair. Still posture. He wasn’t on his phone. Wasn’t talking. Wasn’t pacing.

He was looking at me.

The second our eyes met, my breath caught.

Something twisted hard in my chest, sharp and sudden, like I’d missed a step going down the stairs.

“What the hell…” I muttered.

The crosswalk light changed, but neither of us moved.

Cars passed between us, headlights flashing, and when the street cleared again, he was still there.

Watching.

Then he stepped forward.

I should have left.

I didn’t.

“Belle Griffin,” he said.

Hearing my name from his mouth felt wrong. Too intimate. Too confident.

My shoulders stiffened. “Do I know you?”

“No,” he said. “And that’s the problem.”

His voice was calm, deep, controlled. Not flirty. Not aggressive.

Dangerous in a quiet way.

“I don’t give my name to strangers,” I snapped.

“You didn’t,” he replied. “I already knew it.”

That should have scared me.

Instead, it made me angry.

“Then you already know you should stop talking to me,” I said, stepping past him.

I brushed his arm.

The world tilted.

Heat rushed through me so fast I gasped, my knees buckling as my hand shot out to steady myself against his chest. My heart slammed violently, my skin buzzing like static electricity.

He swore under his breath.

His hand closed around my wrist, firm but careful, like he was holding something fragile.

The contact made it worse.

Whatever was happening inside me intensified—my pulse raced, my breath came uneven, and my chest ached in a way that made no sense.

He released me abruptly and stepped back.

“You shouldn’t have touched me,” he said tightly.

“You shouldn’t have been standing there,” I shot back, clutching my wrist.

For a moment, we just stared at each other.

His eyes were blue. Too blue. Sharp and intense, like they saw more than they should.

“You need to go home,” he said.

“Stop telling me what to do.”

“I’m not asking.”

That did it.

I laughed sharply. “Who do you think you are?”

Something flickered across his face. Not arrogance.

Conflict.

Before he could answer, footsteps approached behind him.

Two men appeared, both large, both alert, both looking at me like I was something unexpected.

“Your Grace,” one of them said quietly. “The council is waiting.”

My stomach dropped.

“Your what?” I demanded.

The man ignored me completely.

Lucian’s jaw tightened.

“Cancel it,” he said.

“Sir—”

“I said cancel it.”

They hesitated, then backed away.

I stared at him. “What is going on?”

Lucian turned back to me, and whatever softness had crept into his expression vanished.

“You need to forget this,” he said. “Forget me.”

Something cold slid down my spine.

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“I do,” he replied. “And I’m doing it now.”

“Why?” I asked. “What did I do?”

“You exist,” he said flatly.

The words hit harder than shouting would have.

“I didn’t ask to be involved in whatever this is,” I snapped.

“You didn’t ask to be marked either.”

Marked?

“What does that even mean?” I demanded.

Silence.

Then he said the words that shattered something inside me.

“I reject you.”

My chest clenched painfully.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whispered.

“Yes, you do,” he said quietly. “You felt it.”

I had.

And I hated that he was right.

“Why?” I asked.

His gaze softened for half a second.

“Because if I don’t,” he said, “you won’t survive what comes next.”

“That’s not your choice,” I said.

“It is my responsibility.”

“Then you’re a coward,” I snapped.

That hurt him.

I could see it.

“Go home, Belle,” he said again. “Please.”

The word *please* almost broke me.

“Fine,” I said, my voice shaking. “I don’t want anything to do with you either.”

I turned and walked away before I could fall apart in front of him.

I didn’t look back.

I didn’t need to.

I could feel his eyes on me the entire way.

~~~~~

I barely slept.

Every time I closed my eyes, my body reacted like it was missing something. My chest felt tight. My skin felt restless. My thoughts kept circling back to his voice, his touch, the way the world had tilted when I brushed against him.

By morning, I told myself it was nothing.

By afternoon, I knew I was lying.

Because when I stepped outside, the feeling came back.

Stronger.

Closer.

And somewhere beneath the city, Lucian Andrews stood in a stone chamber surrounded by wolves, blood pounding in his ears as his beast roared inside him.

Mate.

Rejected or not, the bond had been made.

And it would not be ignored.