I didn't know it was possible to feel so drawn to someone I barely know.
The strange, crying human woman left questions echoing in my mind, each more insistent than the last. I could still feel the weight of her gaze—longing, pained, and filled with an intensity that didn't make sense. I couldn't fathom why she looked at me that way, like she already knew me.
Yet somehow, she did feel familiar.
My mate once said I had a knack for remembering people's scents. She teased that I could catch a hint of someone's scent in seconds and remember it forever. But there was no logical explanation for why I could remember this scent, no clear reason why this one woman seemed burned into my memory.
Still, that scent lingered, drawing me closer, wrapping around me in a way that made me feel alive. She smelled of lavender and cinnamon, with just the faintest trace of vanilla. It was as if someone had blended the world's most captivating scents, crafted specifically to haunt me.
And I couldn't deny it any longer. Her scent was more intoxicating than my mate's.
The thought made my stomach twist with guilt. Speaking it aloud would turn it into something solid, something undeniable. I knew that. I understood what it meant. But the scent and sight of her lingered with a force that seemed impossible to ignore.
Her hair fell in dark curls around her face, framing wide brown eyes that glimmered with a mixture of surprise and something unreadable. As her eyes met mine, I felt a pull, a desperate urge to tell her everything—things I'd locked away in the deepest part of my mind. I wanted to see her expression change, to watch joy spread across her face as I gave her the answers she seemed to need.
But I didn't say anything.
The rule was clear. Keep our secret safe, especially from humans.
I was already under enough scrutiny. Every slip, every lingering look, was another reason for my Alpha to doubt me, another chance for the pack to question my loyalty. And there was Naomi—my mate, my anchor. She was loyal, capable, already weighed down by responsibilities, and I couldn't let myself become another burden to her.
Still, even as I repeated these reasons in my mind, I couldn't ignore the hollow ache growing inside me.
When I opened my mouth to tell Naomi about the human, the words tasted bitter. "There's… there's something strange about her," I murmured, my gaze locked on the floor. The words stumbled out awkwardly, as if my own voice were trying to reject them.
Naomi glanced up, pausing with a shirt half-folded in her hands, her expression a mix of curiosity and something else—a flicker of wariness, a shadow crossing her green eyes.
I rubbed the back of my neck, glancing away, tracing the worn wood grain of the floorboards with my eyes. I knew I was playing with fire. But the words came anyway.
"I just… maybe it was a mistake, leaving her with Kieran."
Silence fell, thick and heavy, hanging between us like a barrier I couldn't cross.
The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth as I bit down hard on my lip, my canines digging into the tender flesh. My pulse thundered in my ears, and I could feel the faint tremor of anger surfacing, that familiar instinctive fury flaring to life at the thought of my Alpha's decisions.
I caught myself, forcing my expression back to neutral, relieved that we were alone here. Naomi might understand, but if anyone else had heard those words, I'd be risking my life.
Kieran wouldn't just imprison me for doubting him. He'd rip my throat open.
"Alpha's got it all under control," Naomi finally replied, her voice steady but tinged with impatience. "No need to question him, Vaughn."
I swallowed back my frustration, my lips pressing into a hard line. Years together, and she still spoke to me like I was one of the others. She fell back on those same lines every time I asked questions, the same words she used to keep order among the pack, as if I were just another name on her list of responsibilities.
Naomi's loyalty to Kieran and the village was absolute, unquestioning. It made her a perfect Beta, but it felt like a weight crushing me every time I remembered it.
And now, more than ever, I wished it didn't hurt so much.
The disappointment was like a physical ache, settling in my chest, making it hard to breathe. The more I tried to deny it, to ignore the whisper of doubt creeping into my mind, the stronger it grew, clawing at me, demanding my attention.
I couldn't shake the memory of that human woman, her scent lingering in my mind, persistent and intoxicating. It was dangerous, foolish, but I couldn't pretend it didn't exist.
"Something about her just feels… wrong," I muttered, barely loud enough for Naomi to hear. The words felt heavy, like they were dragging themselves out against my will. "I don't trust Kieran with her. He's volatile, always on edge. And he's barely started adjusting to being Alpha after spending half his life as a delinquent. What if he—what if he hurts her?"
Naomi's eyes narrowed, her gaze as sharp as obsidian, and I felt the air in the room shift, thickening with tension.
The faint scent of her anger hit me like a wave, rancid and overpowering, her jaw clenching as she took a slow, deliberate breath. I'd barely voiced my doubts, and already I could see the hurt I'd caused, the way her loyalty was tearing her between me and her duty to the pack.
A low, warning growl escaped her throat, and I bowed my head in defeat, the words dying on my tongue.
"Vaughn, I know you think Kieran is some brute who only knows how to act with violence," she said, her tone cold, unyielding. "And I love you—I do. But my loyalty will always lie with Westfall and whoever leads it. Always."
She pinched the bridge of her nose, her eyes closed as she steadied herself, her voice softening, if only slightly.
"Kieran may be… rough. But he's our Alpha, and he's not some mindless beast. That woman's safety is the whole reason he put her in that cell. You don't have to like it. You just have to accept it."
The words stung more than I'd expected.
But I swallowed back my frustration, understanding that pushing further would only drive a wedge between us. The ache in my chest grew, settling into a dull, relentless pain that I couldn't ignore.
"You're right," I said finally, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "I shouldn't worry about her. She doesn't mean anything. Once she's gone, it won't matter."
Naomi's shoulders softened, her gaze warming as she gave me a faint nod, the tension easing from her expression. She stood, gathering the folded laundry, and headed for our room, leaving me standing in the silence.
But as she walked past, a shiver ran down my spine, a chill that left my skin prickling, every nerve on edge. It felt like something inside me was resisting, pulling away from her in a way I couldn't explain.
Before she turned the corner, she paused, casting a sharp glance over her shoulder, her eyes glinting with something darker.
"If you bring her up again, Vaughn," she said, her voice a whisper laced with steel, "Don't expect me to be so understanding next time. I mean it."
My mouth went dry, my heart racing as I forced myself to nod.
"Of course, my love."
With a small, satisfied smile, Naomi leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips. I tried to respond, to let her warmth reach me, but it felt wrong, hollow, like something was missing. I forced myself to hold her gaze, to keep my expression steady as she turned and disappeared into our room.
The moment she was gone, the tension snapped, my body folding in on itself as I let out a shaky breath. I could still feel the phantom weight of her claws against my throat, a silent reminder of just how thin the line was between us.
I couldn't understand why her touch left me feeling so cold, so… empty.
Something about this woman, this stranger in the cell, had stirred something inside me that I couldn't ignore, a quiet truth that was both terrifying and undeniable.
I glanced over my shoulder, making sure Naomi was still behind the closed door, then wiped the cold sweat from my brow. I had to go, had to see her one more time, to understand why she haunted me this way.
The sheriff's station was close—close enough that I could reach it in minutes. The scent hit me before I even reached the door, a blend of lavender and cinnamon that was so potent it made my head spin, pulling me forward, my steps unsteady.
I crept to the barred window, pressing my back against the wall, peering in just far enough to see her.
And there she was.
Slumped against the bars, her brown curls spilling over her shoulders, her body wracked with silent sobs that shook her small frame. She looked as lost as I felt, her presence filling the air, suffocating and magnetic all at once.
My throat tightened, every instinct telling me to walk away, to shut this down before it became something more. But I couldn't move. Her scent wrapped around me, overwhelming and intoxicating, an anchor pulling me deeper into something I didn't understand.
Why did she smell so familiar? Why did she make me feel this way?
The questions echoed through my mind, each one cutting deeper, unraveling something inside me that I'd buried long ago.
As I clutched my head, trying to block out the pain, I saw flashes—dark, muddled memories I couldn't quite grasp. Her face, her voice, her scent, all blending together with something distant and unfinished.
My heart pounded as I stumbled back, the sound of sirens ringing faintly in my ears, and for one horrifying second, I could see her face, clearer than before, her eyes filled with that same desperate longing.
I didn't know her, and yet…
Why did I feel like I did?