Semua Bab Alejandro's Human Antidote : Bab 1 - Bab 10

Zenith's POV Here I am, minding my own business, when suddenly, a pair of strong arms forcefully pull me into an almost suffocating embrace, from behind. I did not see him. I felt him, like a shadow wrapping around my spine before the arms ever touched me. From his strong physique to the restless, masculine energy radiating off him… I know that it's a man.I try to squirm out of his arms but it's a futile attempt. Then in a guttural voice he utters, "Mate!" At the same time, his head is buried on the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. My first instinct is to scream. But weirdly, there’s no fear. My heartbeat spikes, yes, but it’s more from shock than panic. Who the hell is this guy? I stop struggling and wait for him to release me. He does, after what feels like forever. Then he turns me around and lo and behold! The guy is a stunner. I do not even know how to start describing him. He is donning blue jeans, black boots, a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket. His black hair is

Zenith’s POVHis touch is not rough, but it is firm and ntentional. It is not how strangers touch each other, especially not after everything that just happened. But something about him... I don't know. It settles my nerves instead of spiking them.We walk in silence. Only the sound of our steps crunching along the gravel path breaks the quiet. The wind whistles softly between the trees, spreading the first scent of the coming storm, wet leaves, distant thunder, the sharp edge of rain still waiting to fall.“It's just a mile,” I murmur, half to myself. He says nothing, but I can feel him listening. His thumb brushes against the back of my hand, not suggestively, just… grounding. Like he is making sure I’m still real.I glance sideways at him. The shadows play across his face, sharp cheekbones, strong jaw, those haunted, electric-blue eyes that have not strayed from me since the observatory. Who is this guy?Not just some silent type. He is not awkward. He is... watchful. Too calm. Lik

Alejandro’s POVThe rain stopped sometime after midnight. I heard the moment her breathing evened out. Felt her restlessness settle into sleep. I sat on the couch, still as stone, only my fingers moving slightly, clenched around the bracelet like it could anchor me to this moment.I had to show her. Not all of it. Not yet. But enough to explain why I barely speak. Why I hold back. Why I ran so far just to be seen by someone who did not look at me like I was a broken tool.So I closed my eyes and opened the channel. Projecting is not something I do often. This is an ability that not even my mom knows I possess. It is raw and dangerous. It turns memory into dream and lets another soul walk through my truth.But Zenith… she felt safe. Her aura, her scent, everything about her soothed the beast in me. And if I cannot find the words, I will give her the memories. So I gave her the white oak. The bracelet. My mother’s confession. The run through Oregon’s forests, hunted like prey. The shift

Alejandro's POV Who would have thought that I, who has always been undervalued, would meet a mate so beautiful, inside and out? I had long given up on the idea of soulmates. But here she is: human, compassionate, impossibly kind… my antidoteFrom the day she allowed me to hold her hand as she led me to her house , until l now, she has been a breath of fresh air. A constant stream of sunlight. The raging storms in my heart and mind have settled into a peaceful calmness. Her positive energy has constantly rubbed off on me and life is slowly becoming more colourful.When she wants to paint, she involves me. She is not shy to go swim with me and our life, though not intense it feels like a normal couple cohabiting. This girl is a gem, my very own precious gem. And I feel a growing urgency to step up my game so I can protect her and give her a safe home. The previous night's soft pleading, solidified my desire to give her the world. I heard her, although it was a soft murmur, she pleaded

The morning light filters in, warming me up, and I cannot help but stretch lazily across the living room floor. The sun gives off the kind of golden, unhindered light that usually makes me want to paint. But I am not painting. I am watching him.Alejandro is lying on the couch with one arm slung across his eyes, chest rising and falling with that slow, almost meditative rhythm. He is still, too still. Like if I blink too long, he will vanish.The dream has not left me. If anything, it lingers behind my eyelids like a memory that is not mine. The alley. The rain. The woman crying, trembling. The boy being told he is meant to exist. I saw it all. I felt it all. And he let me. No one has ever done that before. No one has handed me their pain like that, trusting I would not drop it.I sit cross-legged on the armchair across from him, my sketchpad balanced on my knees. I am not drawing the sunrise like I had planned. I am sketching him, not as he is now, peaceful and asleep. But as he w