The afternoon sun pressed down on me, hot and heavy, as I ran along the dirt path. Dust rose in little clouds with every step. I clutched my bag closer, my chest pounding—not just from the run, but from the thought of seeing Parker again.
When I reached the edge of the woods, the sounds of the village faded. Leaves rustled softly in the breeze, and I slowed, wiping the sweat from my forehead as I peered into the shadowed trees.
And there he was.
Parker was standing by the old oak, his broad shoulders squared, dark hair catching the sunlight that filtered through the branches. He looked strong and confident, and I could feel my stomach tighten.
I forced a laugh. "You could at least wave or something. I'm not being chased or anything."
His lips twitched, but he didn't give a full smile. "If something were chasing you, I'd know before you even left the house."
My laugh faltered. There it was again—the reminder that Parker wasn't just him. He was part of the wolf clan that lived on the edge of town, a clan everyone respected and feared for their strength and loyalty.
"You sound really sure of yourself," I said, crossing my arms to stop my hands from trembling.
"Not sure," he said, finally meeting my eyes. "Certain. That's how we operate."
I hesitated. "Your kind… wolves." Saying the word felt weird, like it might break if I got it wrong.
He didn't argue. He stepped closer, slow and careful. "In my clan, mates aren't just partners. They matter. Losing a mate changes everything."
I swallowed hard. I'd heard the rumors—some said it was superstition, others called it a curse.
"And what if someone hurts a mate?" I asked quietly.
Parker's expression changed, sharp and serious. "Then they answer to the pack. No one can stop us. Betrayal doesn't go unpunished."
I could feel my chest beating fast. My sister's words came back—if anyone ever hurt me, they'd deal with her first. The irony wasn't lost on me.
Here I was, standing with Parker, the boy everyone feared, the boy my sister had warned me about.
But he wasn't just anyone. I could tell he was different.
He tilted his head, studying me with those dark, steady eyes. "Do you believe in fate, Lyka?"
I swallowed again. "I don't know… but it feels like things are already moving my way."
Then he did something I hadn't expected—he smiled. Not his usual guarded look, not that dangerous smirk, but a real, soft smile, just for me.
slowed down when I finally spotted Parker leaning against the wooden fence at the edge of the field. He looked half-distracted, like he'd been waiting but didn't want to admit it. His hands were in his pockets, hair messy from the wind, and when he looked at me, it wasn't just a casual glance. His eyes lingered.
"Thought you'd run right past me," Parker said evenly, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to grin.
I caught my breath and smirked. "You don't blend in as much as you think."
He let out a small laugh and straightened up from the fence. For a moment, neither of us moved closer. We just looked at each other. It wasn't forced, but there was something about standing there that felt different.
"You came fast," Parker said, tilting his head. "Didn't expect you this early."
"I didn't want to waste time," I replied, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "Besides, I promised I'd show up."
He relaxed a little, and we started walking slowly toward the trees. I glanced at him sideways, trying to read him. "So… this is how you usually spend your mornings? Leaning on fences, staring at fields?"
He gave me a half-smile. "Depends who's asking. Not everyone catches me on a good day."
"I must be lucky then," I teased.
"Or unlucky," he muttered, though his eyes stayed on me a bit too long.
As we moved toward the path into the woods, the quiet between us felt heavy, not uncomfortable, just noticeable.
"You know who I am, right?" Parker asked finally.
I hesitated, choosing my words. "I know enough. The name. The clan you come from. People talk."
He tightened his jaw slightly. "They always do."
I nodded slowly. "Strongest clan around. Feared across the borders… everyone knows the stories. Some think they're exaggerated. Others… not so much."
His gaze flicked to me, sharp but curious. "And what do you think?"
I held his eyes. "I think people don't make up fear out of nothing. If they're afraid, there's a reason."
He smirked faintly, though there was no real humor. "You're not afraid."
"No," I said quietly. "Not of you."
That seemed to stop him for a moment. My tone wasn't reckless—it was steady, calm. And I could tell it caught him off guard.
Even without him saying much, I could feel the weight of his family and the clan around us. Their rules were strict, their loyalty to each other strong, and losing someone close could change a person forever. People whispered about mates, how important they were, how losing one could break someone. I'd heard the stories all my life, a mix of respect and fear.
Parker slowed his pace and looked at me again, his voice quieter. "You don't really know what you're walking into."
I crossed my arms lightly. "Maybe not. But I know what I see."
"And what do you see?" he asked, testing me.
I let the silence stretch for a moment. "Someone who pretends not to care if people get close. But you waited for me here, didn't you? That says enough."
His lips pressed into a thin line, but the flicker in his eyes gave him away.
"Careful, Lyka," he murmured, his tone low, carrying a warning—and something else I couldn't quite place.
The air shifted a little, not in a dramatic way, just noticeable. I could feel it, and I knew he could too.
I broke the tension with a small smile. "So, is this the part where you scare me off with the big clan speech?"
He laughed softly. "You wouldn't run even if I did."
"True," I admitted.
"Good," Parker said finally, his voice low. "Because I don't like chasing things that run."
My stomach flipped, and my cheeks warmed. "I'm not running," I said quickly, though the smile spreading across my face gave me away.
"Just checking," he replied, his dark eyes studying me longer than seemed normal. There was something about the way he looked at me—focused, alert, like he noticed everything I didn't even realize about myself.
We started walking along the edge of the field, the grass brushing against our ankles. We didn't rush, but we didn't pull away from each other either, letting the quiet tension between us grow naturally.
"So… you're really not afraid?" Parker asked after a moment.
I shook my head. "Not of you. Maybe… a little of what you represent, but that's different." I gestured toward the distant hills, where his clan lived. "Your people… your clan. They have a reputation, and it's not for nothing."
He gave a small, knowing smirk. "I'm not afraid of that either. I just… focus on what matters. You're one of those things that matter."
I blinked, surprised. "Me?"
"Yes," he said simply, as if it were obvious. "And I don't say that lightly."
I laughed, brushing a hand through my hair. "You make it sound serious."
"Maybe it is," he said, his eyes darkening slightly. "Or maybe it's just how it is. You and me… it doesn't need a story."
I felt a rush of warmth. No grand words, no dramatic warnings—just honesty. The connection between us was quiet but real.
"You're… different," I admitted. "Most people wouldn't notice this. Or care."
"I notice," Parker said, glancing at me with a small smirk. "And I care."
My chest tightened. I tried not to let my excitement show. The field, the trees, the sun above—it all seemed to fade until it was just the two of us.
"You really make it hard to think straight," I said with a laugh, though I kept my eyes on him.
"That's the point," he said. And I felt that pull again, the one that made it impossible to look away or act normal.
We walked a few more steps without speaking, comfortable with the silence. I realized I matched his pace without thinking, our movements syncing naturally.
"You know," I said quietly, almost shy, "I don't think I've ever felt this with anyone before. Like… there's something I'm supposed to feel with you."
Parker stopped mid-step, letting my words sink in. He looked at me fully, without teasing or avoiding my gaze. Just attention, weight, and quiet certainty.
"I feel it too," he admitted, soft but firm. "And it's not something I ignore. Not for anyone."
My heart was racing, and I gave a small, nervous smile. "Then… maybe this is where we're supposed to be."
Parker's smirk softened. "Maybe it is."
We stayed there at the edge of the woods, and for a moment, nothing else mattered—not the stories about his family, not the expectations that came with him. It was just the two of us, noticing each other and letting this connection grow naturally.
It felt like the start of something real.