POV Avery
I’m practically vibrating with anticipation, which is probably the most fucked up thing about this entire situation. Normal wolves don’t get giddy about potentially life-threatening fights with vampires. Normal wolves definitely don’t spend all day replaying the memory of a vampire’s fingers on their skin.
But here I am, practically skipping through the forest like I’m heading to prom instead of what could very well be my execution.
The scent hits me before I see her—ash and blood and something sweetly dangerous that makes my wolf sit up and beg. My feet find the cliff edge without conscious thought, every step silent, every breath controlled. But nothing about this has felt controlled since she first smirked at me like I was a puzzle she wanted to solve.
“She’s close,” I mutter, fingers wrapping around my blade. It feels heavier tonight, like it knows I’m not planning to use it properly and disapproves of my life choices.
A sharp crack echoes ahead—branches snapping under deliberate weight. My entire body goes tense with anticipation that has nothing to do with combat readiness.
Then she appears.
Leaning against the cliff wall like she owns the entire fucking mountain, lips curved in that smile that’s way too calm for someone about to fight for their life. That’s not how prey looks.
That’s how predators look when they know they’ve already won.
“Took you long enough,” she says, voice lazy with amusement.
I stalk closer, eyes locked on hers. “You’re cornered.”
“Am I?” One perfect eyebrow arches. Challenge wrapped in a question.
“You’re out of tricks,” I snap, but my blade’s lowering slightly. “No mist. Just you, me, and a three-hundred-foot drop.”
Wind kicks up between us, wild and cold, sending her hair across her cheek. She doesn’t even blink. “Sounds romantic.”
I roll my eyes because apparently even facing death, she’s still the most annoying person I’ve ever met. “Shut up.”
“Make me.” Her voice drops lower, velvet and wicked promise.
Our stares tangle like physical things. Something cracks open in the silence between us, something that’s been building since our first encounter.
“You’re mine,” I say before my brain can stop my mouth. It doesn’t sound like a threat. It sounds like a confession.
Her lips twitch upward. “Say it again.”
That does it. I lunge.
We collide like lightning striking stone—hard, fast, hot enough to melt steel. Limbs tangle, balance disappears. Moss slips under our boots, rocks scrape our sides. She hits the cliff wall with a grunt that shouldn’t sound as appealing as it does, and suddenly I’m pinning her there.
Blade forgotten. Mission forgotten. Everything forgotten except breath and pulse and proximity.
We’re chest to chest, panting like we’ve been running for miles instead of fighting for seconds. My hands have somehow ended up fisted in her jacket collar.
Her fingers are pressed against my ribs like she’s checking for a heartbeat that’s currently trying to break free from my chest.
“You should hate me,” she whispers, and there’s something vulnerable in her voice that makes my wolf whimper.
“You should’ve killed me,” I whisper back, jaw set, voice raw with everything I can’t say.
But neither of us moves. We’re stuck in something deeper than battle, closer than logic allows. And then, like fire jumping to dry grass, we kiss.
It’s not gentle. Nothing between us has ever been gentle.
It’s all teeth and tongues and too much heat pressed into not enough space. My fingers slide into her hair, yanking just enough to make her gasp into my mouth.
She bites my lower lip and pulls me closer, moaning like she’s been starving for this exact moment.
Our bodies grind together—mouths desperate, hips misaligned but trying anyway. Every kiss feels like a war I’m losing on purpose. Every gasp is surrender disguised as defiance.
I groan into her mouth, voice caught somewhere between pain and pleasure. “You’re insufferable.”
“You should shut up and do it again.”
So I do. We kiss harder, faster, more reckless.
Her back scrapes against the rock face but she doesn’t complain—just pulls my thigh between hers, grinding shamelessly like we’re not enemies, like this isn’t breaking every rule both our species have ever made.
“You don’t fight fair,” I whisper against her jaw.
“I never said I would,” she whispers back, mouth brushing my throat in a way that makes my knees go weak.
The roar of the waterfall behind us is nothing compared to the chaos in my head. Blood rushing, breath stuttering, the sound of our hearts slamming against ribs too tight to contain them.
“I hate this,” I groan, but my body’s betraying me with every touch.
“You hate how much you like it,” she corrects, and she’s absolutely right.
I kiss her again just to shut her up, tongues battling for control neither of us wants to surrender. Her nails rake down my spine. My knee presses between her legs.
Heat flares, need screams, but we don’t go further.
Can’t go further. Not yet.
When our lips finally break apart, it’s not clean. It’s ragged, gasping, teeth grazing as we stare at each other like we’ve both stepped off a ledge and haven’t landed yet.
My forehead drops against hers, still catching my breath. “What the hell are we doing?”