POV Natalie
Sleep’s a fucking joke when your brain won’t stop replaying the moment you kissed a werewolf and then vanished like some kind of coward. Classic Natalie move, honestly—disappear the second things get real. Fifty-three years of undead existence and I’m still running away from feelings like a teenage drama queen.
But that kiss. Jesus Christ, that kiss.
Not soft. Not sweet. Just wild, messy, infuriating need that tasted like everything I’ve been starving for without knowing it. Avery’s mouth, that growl rumbling in her throat, the way she pulled me closer like she wanted to crawl inside my skin. The heat, the crash, the way I wanted more even as I was dissolving into mist and fleeing like a complete disaster.
I’m pacing along the cliff’s edge now, arms crossed tight enough to crack ribs, jaw clenched so hard my fangs are cutting into my lip. Mist clings to my skin like guilt, but it’s not guilt eating me alive right now.
It’s hunger. Longing. The kind of curiosity that has absolutely no place inside a Nightshade bloodline.
“You’re an idiot,” I mutter, dragging fingers through my hair hard enough to hurt. “A stupid, reckless idiot with a serious werewolf problem.”
My boots slide against wet rocks as I turn sharply, stalking through underbrush like I can somehow walk this craving off. But every snapped branch, every shift in the wind makes my spine go rigid with anticipation.
I keep hearing her voice on repeat.
“You’re mine.”
My fingers curl against my palms until nails bite flesh. “She didn’t mean it,” I say out loud, even though it sounds like bullshit even to me. “It was adrenaline. Blood rush. Combat hormones.”
But that voice won’t stop echoing in my head. My name spoken like a promise and a threat wrapped in velvet. I’ve survived fifty years without being anyone’s anything, and I’m not about to start now.
Except…
I’m already walking back toward the forest. Already following the path I swore I’d avoid.
This isn’t strategy. This isn’t mission focus. This is desperation wearing the costume of habit, and we both know it.
I tell myself it’s about finishing what we started. About proving I can still capture a wolf and deliver her to the Coven, no matter how catastrophically complicated things have gotten. About maintaining some shred of professional dignity in this supernatural shitshow.
But when I reach the ravine and see that figure standing across the divide—bare-armed, moonlit, sharp as a blade—I know I’m lying to myself on every possible level.
Avery.
Our eyes lock across the distance like magnets snapping into place. Neither of us moves. Neither of us even breathes.
My heart doesn’t pound—it straight-up stops.
She looks like she hasn’t slept either. Like fire crawled through her veins and carved her hollow from the inside out. There are dirt stains on her legs, a tear in her shirt, blood dried at her collarbone like war paint. But she’s standing there like a challenge, like a truth I can’t outrun no matter how fast I disappear.
I step forward, then stop. My boot hits gravel, crunches, and silence swallows the sound like a warning from the universe.
Her hands are at her sides, fists flexing. Not reaching for blades. Not yet.
“Didn’t think you’d come back,” I say finally, voice lower than I intended.
“Didn’t think you’d leave,” she replies. Words steady, but her eyes are chaos.
I shrug, going for casual and missing by miles. “Seemed smarter than staying to explain… whatever the hell that was.”
Her jaw tightens. “It wasn’t smart.”
“Didn’t say it was.” My eyes flick away before snapping back like they’re magnetized. “I just… needed to think.”
“And?”
My throat burns. “Didn’t think very well.”
Beat. Wind picks up between us, sending leaves into frantic spirals. Somewhere in the distance, a raven cries out and gets immediately silenced.
She takes one step closer to the edge. “I can still taste you,” she says, voice rough. “And I hate that I like it.”
My knees go weak. “You think I don’t?” I hiss back. “I haven’t stopped seeing your face every time I close my eyes. Your mouth. Your hands—”
I bite the rest back. Too late.
She tilts her head, predator recognizing prey. “Say it.”
“No.” I turn slightly, anger spiking to cover the truth. “This is wrong. I’m supposed to capture you. Deliver you like a prize. You’re supposed to kill me if I get too close.”
“Then stop coming back,” she says, stepping closer to her edge. “Or admit you don’t want to.”
I swallow hard. “You don’t get to push me like this.”
“You kissed me back.”
“Don’t pretend you weren’t the one who started it!”
Another step forward. One foot from the drop now. “You let me,” she says, voice dropping to something dangerous. “You wanted it just as bad.”
I move closer to my side. The ravine feels small now. Too small. Like if either of us breathes wrong, the space between will vanish completely and we’ll fall into something we can’t climb out of.
“I don’t even know what this is,” I admit, words scraping my throat raw. “This… thing between us. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe it’s not supposed to.”