Vanessa woke with her sheets damp and her skin burning. At first, she thought it was another fever relapse—one of the brutal waves that had kept her bedridden for years. But this wasn't sickness. Her wolf stirred inside her, restless, needy, prowling with a hunger that wasn't food.
Heat, the wolf whispered, teeth bared in a smile. Mate. Time.
Vanessa buried her face in her pillow, groaning. "Not now."
Now, her wolf insisted.
She dragged herself out of bed, showered long and cold, and shoved herself into jeans and a black sweater. Skylar was still asleep, mouth open, headphones askew. Vanessa didn't wake her. She needed to get out, breathe air that wasn't thick with want.
Campus was brisk with autumn chill, leaves skittering across pavement. Students rushed to morning classes, laughter carried on the wind. Vanessa forced herself to match their pace, shoulders squared, pretending her blood wasn't molten, her skin wasn't hypersensitive to every brush of air.
By the time she reached lecture, she was sweating. She slid into her seat, opened her notebook, and prayed to every god she didn't believe in that Ethan wouldn't show up.
The bond laughed in her face.
He walked in five minutes later, cutting through rows like a shadow. He didn't look at her—but he didn't have to. His wolf felt it instantly. His stride faltered almost imperceptibly. His nostrils flared.
Her scent had changed.
Vanessa's stomach dropped.
Wolves noticed things humans never did: the tang of adrenaline, the musk of fear, the sweetness of heat. And right now, hers was spiking, sharp and impossible to hide.
Across the room, Ethan stiffened. His jaw locked, fingers tightening around his pen until the plastic creaked. He sat, back straight, shoulders like iron rods. But his wolf surged against the bars, growling. Mate. Heat. Ours. Take her.
Don't you dare, Ethan snapped inwardly. We don't touch. We don't claim.
His wolf snarled, furious. She suffers. We suffer. Fix it.
Vanessa tried to focus on the professor's words, but they blurred. Every nerve screamed awareness of him. His presence pressed against her like a storm. Her thighs clenched under the desk. She scribbled notes just to keep her hands busy, heart pounding so hard she worried others might hear.
The professor droned about Pavlov, about conditioned responses, about hunger as a motivator. Vanessa wanted to laugh hysterically. Hunger, yes. She was living it. Every part of her body craved Ethan, demanded him, screamed for the bond to be sealed.
Halfway through class, the girl next to Vanessa leaned in, whispering, "Are you okay? You're flushed."
Vanessa forced a smile. "Fine. Just hot in here."
The girl nodded, oblivious. But Ethan's head snapped up from two rows back, eyes locking on her profile.
Her wolf preened. He watches. He knows.
Their gazes collided across the hall. Heat surged between them like a live current. Vanessa's breath hitched; Ethan's pen slipped, rolling off his desk to the floor. He didn't pick it up. He just stared, chest rising and falling faster than before.
The professor called for a short break. Students shuffled, stretching, chatting. Vanessa shot up from her seat, desperate for air. She slipped out into the hall, pressed her back against the cool brick, and tried to breathe.
Her wolf prowled under her skin, restless. Find him. Let him bite. Let it end.
"No," she whispered fiercely. "Not like this. Not begging."
The door opened. Ethan stepped into the hall. His eyes found her instantly. His nostrils flared again, jaw tightening.
Vanessa's stomach twisted. The scent of her heat hung heavy in the air between them, undeniable. His wolf lunged, snarling in his chest. Mate. Now. Take her here.
Ethan gripped the doorframe hard enough that his knuckles blanched. His body trembled with restraint. His gaze pinned her, hungry and furious.
"Go back inside," he rasped, voice low and strained.
Vanessa's throat went dry. "Why?"
His eyes burned, wolf pressing at the edges. "Because if you don't, I won't."
Her wolf howled, triumphant. Yes. Yes. Let him break.
Vanessa's pulse thundered. She forced herself to straighten, to meet his stare without flinching. "Then don't fight it."
He flinched as if she'd struck him. His chest heaved. For one raw, dangerous moment, he looked like he might cross the hall, grab her, press her to the wall, and let instinct take over. His wolf was ready—desperate.
But Ethan dragged himself back with brutal will. He turned sharply, storming down the hall like he could outrun biology itself.
Vanessa sagged against the wall, trembling, breath ragged. Her wolf snarled inside her, unsatisfied, furious. Coward. Denies us. Hunt harder.
Vanessa closed her eyes, steadying herself. She wasn't done. Not even close.
By the time evening fell, Vanessa's body felt like it was made of fire and glass. Every nerve was strung too tight. Every breath dragged Ethan's scent into her lungs whether he was near or not.
She told herself to rest. To stay in the dorm, curl into her sheets, and wait it out. But her wolf snarled at the idea, restless, wild. Find him. The bond won't let us hide.
So she didn't.
The library was quieter at night, the lamps glowing soft and golden over scattered students. Vanessa slipped inside, sweater pulled tight around her like it could cage the heat leaking from her pores. She didn't need to look for him. She felt him.
Ethan sat at his usual table, back to the wall, pencil scratching neat equations. He didn't look up when she approached. He didn't need to. His wolf had already lifted its head, scenting her, growling with need.
Vanessa dropped her bag onto the chair across from him. "You can't avoid this forever."
His jaw clenched. "You shouldn't be here."
"You shouldn't be alone when you're fighting this hard." She sat, folding her hands on the table. Her fingers trembled, but her voice was steady.
His wolf pressed hard against his skin. Mate. Close. Touch her.
Ethan's pencil snapped in his grip. The sound echoed. He stared at the broken halves, then set them down carefully, like if he moved too fast, he'd break more than wood.
"Your scent," he said finally, voice hoarse, raw. "It's everywhere."
Vanessa flushed, shame and defiance colliding. "I can't control it."
"I know." His gaze lifted, gray storming. "That's the problem."
Her wolf surged forward, furious at his restraint. Problem? No. Gift. Ours.
Vanessa leaned forward, eyes burning into his. "It's not a problem. It's proof."
His breath hitched. The bond flared, violent, searing through them both. His wolf howled inside him, claws raking for freedom. Ethan's hand twitched on the table, trembling like it wanted hers.
For a moment, the world narrowed to that distance—six inches of air and everything unsaid.
Vanessa whispered, "Touch me. Just once. See if you can still deny it."
Ethan's eyes closed. His wolf roared. Yes. Touch. Claim. Bite.
His hand lifted, shaking. He hovered over hers, not quite touching, breath ragged. For a single second, the air between them burned brighter than anything Vanessa had ever felt. She swore if he touched her, the world would split open.
Then he slammed his palm flat on the table instead, hard enough to rattle the lamp.
"No."
The word cracked through the silence like a whip.
Vanessa flinched, chest aching. But she refused to back down. "Why?" she demanded. "Why are you fighting so hard? You feel it. You know it. Your wolf knows it. So why?"
Ethan's eyes snapped open. They burned—not cold now, but hot, furious, desperate. "Because bonds aren't salvation, Vanessa. They're chains. I've worn them before. I won't again."
Her breath caught. "What happened to you?"
He froze. For a second, she thought he might answer. But then he shook his head sharply, shutting the door so hard she felt it slam in her chest. "Not your business."
Her wolf snarled, pacing. Ours. His pain is ours.
Vanessa's voice softened, pleading. "Ethan, I'm not your past. I'm not whoever broke you. I'm me. And I'm not leaving."
His face twisted, anguish raw for a split second before the mask snapped back. "You should."
Her throat ached, but she steadied herself. "I won't."
The bond thrummed violently, pushing, demanding. Her body burned with heat, her wolf screaming for release. She could see it in him too—the way his chest heaved, the way his fists clenched to stop himself from reaching across the table and giving in.
Finally, he shoved back his chair, standing so abruptly it screeched against the floor. He grabbed his bag, shoulders rigid.
"If you stay near me," he rasped, voice breaking, "I'll hurt you. And I can't survive that. So stay away."
Vanessa stood too, fire in her veins, eyes blazing. "No. I'll stay near you until you realize the only thing hurting us is your denial."
His jaw trembled. His wolf howled, furious, desperate. She is right. She is ours. Take her.
"Stay away," he whispered one last time. And then he turned, fleeing the library like it was burning down.
Vanessa watched him go, heart in pieces, body trembling from the heat still clawing at her. But beneath the ache, beneath the rejection, she felt something else.
Victory.
Because this time, Ethan hadn't left her cold. He'd left trembling, cracked wide open, wolf howling loud enough for her to hear.
And she would never, ever give up.