Adrian
The forest was not silent. It never was. To human ears, perhaps, it was only the whisper of wind through leaves, the occasional cry of a night bird. But to me, every sound was a note in an endless song. The drip of dew from a branch. The shuffle of a rabbit beneath the underbrush. The faintest sigh of a wolf's paws far in the distance.
And beneath it all, the beat of a heart I knew too well.
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. His scent reached me even before he did, smoke and pine, tempered with the faintest copper of blood, strong and wild and infuriatingly alive.
I could have stayed in my castle tonight, surrounded by velvet and marble, with courtiers kneeling at my feet and servants hanging on my every word. But what was the point? Power was an empty chalice without someone who dared to meet your eyes and not flinch.
Damien had been my enemy from the day he was crowned Alpha King, yet he was the only one who had ever looked at me and truly seen me. Not the monster, not the title. Me.
And so I waited, as I always did, standing alone in the clearing as if I had not orchestrated every step to lead him here.
The night kissed my skin, cool and sharp. I let the moonlight paint me in silver, knowing how it struck him when he found me like this.
He pretended to hate it, the way I glowed like something untouchable but I saw the hunger in his eyes. Wolves were creatures of the earth, raw and grounded. I was the opposite, born of shadow and silence. Together we were a contradiction that should have torn the world apart. Instead, it only tore us from within.
The snap of twigs announced him before his wolf form emerged from the trees. His fur gleamed, dark as ink, his eyes burning gold as they locked onto me. A growl rolled from his throat, instinct, habit, denial but I didn't move. I had no need to fear him, not here.
Not when I already owned too much of him.
"You're late," I said. My voice was soft, teasing, but laced with the truth, I had been waiting, restless, certain he would come. He always did.
His snarl deepened as he shifted, skin and bone twisting until the man stood where the beast had been. Bare, furious, magnificent. The sight of him hit me low in my stomach, though I kept my face smooth, unreadable. He didn't know how close I came to unraveling every time.
"What are your people doing near my borders?" he demanded. His voice was all steel, but there was something else buried beneath it, fear, not for himself, but for me.
Ah. So that was what this was. He had heard about my scouts. I let my lips curve, slow and deliberate. "My people?"
"Don't," he snapped. His golden eyes burned into me. "Were they yours?"
"Perhaps," I murmured. "Perhaps not. Why do you care, Damien? Are you worried for your wolves?" I stepped closer, savoring the way his body stiffened. "Or are you worried for me?"
He hated me for saying it. I saw it in the clench of his jaw, in the way his hands curled into fists. But he didn't deny it. He never did.
"You're reckless," he growled. "If anyone sees us.."
"Then what?" I cut in. "Will you kill me? Pretend this doesn't exist? Pretend you don't wake in the dead of night with my name on your lips?"
The truth hit him. His chest rose sharply, his breath quickening. His silence was more damning than any words.
God, I loved this game. Watching the iron king of wolves stumble over feelings he couldn't tame. I leaned in just enough to let my presence press against him, my scent curling around us both like smoke. "You could crush me right here, Damien. Tear me apart. But you don't. You never do."
His golden eyes blazed. "You enjoy this."
"Of course I do." I smiled, slow and wolfish, though I was no wolf. "You're so very careful, so bound by rules and loyalty. It's delicious, watching all of that crack beneath my touch."
I let my fingers trail up his throat, stopping just above his collarbone. His pulse thundered beneath my skin, betraying him. He didn't push me away. He never did.
"You're playing with fire," he rasped.
"Good," I whispered, leaning closer. "I like the burn."
And it was true. Every meeting with him was an exquisite agony. The risk of discovery, the sharp edge of desire, the knowledge that one wrong step could plunge both our kingdoms into bloodshed, it was intoxicating. I was the predator, yes, but with him, I was also prey. He had the power to undo me with a single choice.
But he never chose.
"I should go," he said suddenly, stepping back as if tearing himself free.
"You won't," I replied, not even bothering to mask my certainty.
He hesitated, and that was my victory. He never left when he said he would.
Instead, he spoke of rumors, alliances, betrayals, whispers of wolves and vampires joining forces against us both. My mask slipped for the briefest second, irritation pricking my chest. Did he truly think I would plot against him? Against us?
"You think I would betray you?" I asked quietly.
"I think you're capable of anything," he said.
"And you," I murmured, "are the wolf king. Yet here you stand."
Our eyes locked, and for one unbearable moment, all the masks fell away. He saw me. I saw him. No crowns, no clans. Just two men bleeding into each other's shadows.
"This thing between us—" he began.
"—is the only real thing in either of our lives," I finished.
The words slipped out before I could stop them. They were too honest, too raw. His expression flickered, shock breaking through his usual iron mask. I wanted to kiss him then, to prove the truth with more than words, but I held myself back. Always back. Always on the edge.
"Do you want me to stop teasing you?" I asked instead, softer now.
He didn't answer.
"Do you want me to leave you alone?"
Silence.
I lifted his chin gently, forcing his golden eyes to meet mine. "Say it, Damien. Say it, and I'll go."
For a heartbeat, I thought he might. His lips parted, breath ragged. But no sound came out.
Exactly.
My smile softened, just for him. "That's what I thought."
I stepped back, letting the air cool between us. My heart was a storm, but I wrapped it tight, hiding the cracks. "Go back to your keep, Alpha King. Wear your crown, guard your borders. Pretend you're not mine."
I turned, my cloak swirling around me. "Until the next moon calls you to me."
And then I was gone, swallowed by shadow, though my body ached to stay. Every step away from him was a knife in my chest, but I had learned long ago that longing was its own kind of power.
Back in my castle, surrounded by silence and marble, I touched my lips where his breath had brushed mine. My people thought me untouchable, a king of iron and blood. But in the dark, when no one watched, I whispered his name.
Damien.
My ruin.