My Strange Addiction.

Keon's POV:

Two weeks.

Fourteen days.

Two weeks of trying not to strangle myself each time I see her, two weeks of missing her scent, fourteen days of guilt clawing through my system like a rabid beast. I've wanted nothing more than to barge into her room, beg for her forgiveness and sniff her hair afterwards.

Lord knows how many times I had to stop myself from sneaking into her room to watch her sleep at night. The thought of her sleeping alone just refuses to sit right with me.

But I didn't do any of that.

Why?

Because I knew, I just knew, if I did, she'd see the cracks in me. She'd see all the doubt, the fear, the jealousy rooted deep inside of me. She'd see the real me.

And she's not ready for that yet.

No one is ready to see the real me.

Winter doesn't understand. She thinks my silence is pride, that I'm holding out, waiting for her to beg. But the honest truth is, I don't have answers to the questions she's asking. None that won't shatter her, mine, and everything between us.

So I waited. And waited. And waited. It was awful as fuck, and I hated every second of it, but I dug deeper into the pack house library while my men dug up everything on Winter. I'm even looking at things that are rumored to be myths, things that people said couldn't happen. Well what's happening with Winter is not normal, and we've left that realm a long time ago. Nothing about our existence is normal.

I'm currently in the room where I met Sabrina and Winter that day. I can't believe Sabrina still comes here. According to my pack history, this room was the chamber where my great great great great grandfather would sit and discuss with his wisest advisors. Each mark on the old chairs represents a different part of the wolves.

It's supposed to be claw, howl, eye and heart. The claw for our strength, howl represents the unity of the pack, eye means the people are being watched and protected, and heart is where my ancestor would sit as the leader, as he as the alpha was the heart of the pack. Even though most of the symbols have faded away due to time, the room is still something I like to go to when I need to connect with my ancestors from time to time.

My eye scans the room once more, looking up at the window where Winter swore she saw something…an eye was it?

The thing is, there was nothing there that day.

I stood there, confused as ever while Winter frantically tried to show me something that was never there in the first place. I look at the window, really look at it, trying to see if maybe the light reflecting on it this time will show something that I didn't catch the first time. After a long time of staring I give up.

Winter probably imagined it.

Was she sleeping well?

My mind drifts back to the first night we met. When I first marked her, it was simple instinct, the pull of fate. But there was no way I could've known she was the one to be mated to my brother the next damn day. Yes, I knew she was a witch, but I didn't piece it together that the innocent witch was going to be the one I would be introduced to the next day.

And I thought it couldn't happen. That one person could hold two marks in their hands, and not break entirely.

But it did.

She’s still standing. Still breathing. Still human. Somehow, some impossibly stubborn human, still holding on.

And me? I’ve spent the last two weeks walking the halls like a ghost. Watching, protecting, scaring off anyone who dared cross her path. My wolves? They obey, yes, but only because I made them. My message is clear. Cross Winter, and you pay.

Every snide comment in the hall, every servant’s fearful glance when she passes, they’re all reminders. Reminders of what the world takes for granted. Her kindness, her grace.

Reminders that I can’t fix everything. Not yet.

And Derrick…

Of course, Derrick. He’s off playing the hero, charming everyone around him, throwing notes like some trivial game.

And yes, I snooped through the pack mail and delayed the mail from getting to her on time. But I don't care. He doesn't deserve any of her time anyways.

He sends notes that make her laugh, make her blush. Notes that make me want to tear something apart. I shouldn’t feel that way. He’s her mate. Her other mate at least.

I have no right.

But every word he wrote, every stupid little face that makes her laugh, ignites something in me.

A fire I can’t touch, a jealousy I can’t hide.

So I stay silent.

I avoid her. I patrol the corridors, the gardens, the halls. I let her space herself, let her breathe.

But I never stop watching. My wolves know. My eyes know. And every time someone gets too close, I remind them: Winter is mine to protect. And mine alone.

Yet…

Every time I see her laugh at Derrick’s notes, or glance at something he left behind, I wonder.

Am I doing the right thing?

Am I protecting her? Or am I just pushing her away?

Two weeks of questions, no answers. Two weeks of restraint.

And I’m not sure how much longer I can hold it in.

Because sooner or later, something’s going to happen. Something big. I can just feel it.

And when it does… I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself from showing her exactly how much this hurts.