2

Mia sat on the edge of the bed, determined to ignore that voice.

Whatever it was... it didn't matter.

Not now.

Not while she was there, in his room, with the taste of freedom on her tongue.

Liam walked in with a bowl of steaming popcorn in one hand and two cans of soda in the other, his eyes sparkling amid his usual crooked smile.

“Did I take too long?” he asked, setting everything down on the nightstand next to the bed.

“Finally! I thought you were going to let me starve,” she joked, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

“I would never do that,” Liam replied, laughing as he sat down next to her. “Now tell me, what do you think of the movie so far?”

Mia smiled and settled herself more comfortably on the bed.

"I find this story fascinating. I've seen it a thousand times. I confess that if I were Bella Swan, I would choose the wolf. The whole imprinting thing is much more fascinating."

For a moment, something dark crossed Liam's face. It was so quick that Mia almost didn't notice, but there was a slight change in his expression, a different gleam in his eyes. However, he quickly laughed and shook his head.

“No way! Vampires are a thousand times better. More cultured, more refined... Wolves are just big, smelly dogs.”

Mia widened her eyes, feigning indignation, and grabbed a handful of popcorn, throwing it at Liam.

“Don't talk trash about my Jacob!”

“Jacob, you better take that off.”

“Never,” Mia replied.

His hand lightly touched her leg, as if it were an accidental gesture. It wasn't. Mia felt an instant shiver run up her skin, a subtle shock under the fabric of her jeans. She pretended not to notice.

“Are you cold?” he asked in a low voice.

“Maybe just a little,” she replied, without looking directly at him.

“Or are you nervous?”

She stared at Liam. Those green eyes seemed to read her entire being. Mia didn't answer. And he moved closer.

“You still haven't taken back what you said about the wolf being yours,” he teased.

“Because I won't,” she retorted.

He leaned closer. His face was now inches from hers. The tension was electric. They were both laughing, but their eyes weren't smiling anymore.

Suddenly, Liam threw himself on top of her, tickling her ribs.

Mia screamed, laughed, and struggled.

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry!” She pushed his arms away, laughing breathlessly.

“Take back what you said about Jacob.”

“Never!”

He moved quickly, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. Mia's body was pressed against the mattress. His weight, his warmth, his woody scent—everything suffocated and excited her at the same time.

The laughter died.

Their eyes met.

The kiss came like an inevitable fall.

Mia responded without hesitation.

It was desire. Confusion. Rebellion.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, her body molding itself to his. Liam's fingers slid down her face, her waist, her hips. Everything was new, fast, urgent.

“You don't belong to him.”

The voice returned.

Subtle.

Cold.

Mia froze for a second. The phrase sounded different this time. It wasn't guilt. It wasn't her mother. It wasn't fear.

It was a certainty that didn't come from her—and yet it seemed too intimate.

But Mia ignored it. She pushed the voice into a dark corner and closed her eyes.

Not now.

Liam brushed his lips against her neck. His breath was hot, uneven. The world was reduced to touch, smell, sensation. His tongue found the curve of her jaw. His fingers pulled the elastic out of her ponytail, releasing her white strands.

“You're so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice hoarse against her skin.

Mia felt a tremor run through her entire body. This wasn't just a kiss. It was a rupture. A before and after.

She had never done this before. Never given herself like this.

Never let anyone see so much.

But she did.

And when Liam pulled her onto his lap, their bodies entwined and their hearts racing, Mia allowed the whole world to disappear.

For a moment, she believed that this was her life.

That this room was her place.

That the voice in her mind was just tiredness.

But even at the height of pleasure, something was wrong.

The whisper returned, cold and distant, but Mia pushed the thought away: this was no time for fears or warnings. It was time to feel, to live.

When Liam pulled away, his eyes were shining, heavy with promise.

“You're dangerous, Mia,” he said, his voice hoarse, almost a challenge.

She just smiled, knowing she was playing with fire—and that she wanted nothing else.

The air in the room seemed thicker, charged with a stifling heat that made every breath a provocation. Sitting on the bed, Mia felt Liam's body pressed against hers, every inch of closeness becoming delicious torture.

His lips moved with precision and intensity, as if to mark their territory. And Mia let him.

His hands moved up her waist, tracing her body as if memorizing every curve. His fingers slowly ran down her thigh, then back up her arms until they found the nape of her neck. A shiver ran down her spine. She moaned softly.

Her heart pounded in her chest.

Her mind screamed, but her body... her body begged for more. She clung to him tighter, feeling small and alive in his arms. Her breaths were short and irregular. His kisses trailed down her neck, and his fingers tangled in the white strands of her hair, pulling firmly enough to make the world disappear.

She wanted to forget. She wanted to lose herself there.

That's when her cell phone vibrated on the mattress. Once. Twice. Three times.

Mia didn't hear it. She didn't see it.

But something inside her... heard it.

A roar.

It wasn't a normal sound.

It was an ancient, fierce, deafening roar—so loud it seemed to tear her mind apart.

She jerked away from Liam, as if pushed by an invisible force. Her body still burned, but the fear came cold, brutal.

The room looked the same, but Mia was no longer the same.

Her breath came in gasps.

Her hands trembled. Her eyes searched for something that wasn't there — but the sound still vibrated inside her head, as if the monster that roared was right behind her.

Liam approached, his face confused.

“Did I go too far?”

She shook her head, quickly, desperately, as if trying to escape something she didn't yet understand.

“No... it's not that. I... I'm not okay. Can I use your bathroom?”

“Sure. Do you want me to—”

“No.”

She stood up unsteadily, her body still shaking, cold sweat running down the back of her neck. She walked to the bathroom as if crossing a border.

She locked the door. She leaned against the sink.

The mirror reflected the image of a girl in collapse. Dilated pupils. Parted lips. Short breaths. Fear.

The roar was gone. But its echo remained, engraved on her skin, her chest, deep in her mind.

“Please... not now. Not here.”