...Stirring Shadows, Stirring Fire...
The smell of blood still clung to the air when Lorenzo lifted Elena into his arms.
It was everywhere , on the shattered stone floor, on the torn curtains swaying in the night breeze, on his own skin , but he didn't care. Not about the mess. Not about the danger. Not about the fact that the rest of the pack would feel what had happened here before dawn.
All that mattered was the girl in his arms.
Her small body was trembling violently, fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as if he were the only thing keeping her tied to this world. Her tears soaked through him, hot and silent , the kind of crying that never made a sound but somehow hurt more than any scream.
"It's over," he murmured, pressing his forehead to her hair as he walked. "You're safe, Elena. I've got you."
She didn't answer.
She couldn't.
But her grip tightened anyway.
He carried her to his chambers, kicking the door shut with his foot. The room was dim, lit only by the glow of moonlight and a faint fire in the hearth. Carefully ,as if she were made of glass ,he laid her on the bed.
She curled instantly, hands drawn to her chest, as if expecting another attack.
Lorenzo sat beside her, his hands hovering over her, uncertain. He was an Alpha. A warrior. A killer if necessary.
Yet with her…
He didn't know what to do.
"You're haunting yourself even when you're awake," he whispered, brushing damp curls from her face. "Who did this to you, little wolf?"
Her eyelids fluttered, body jerking as another nightmare dragged its claws through her mind.
"Fire…" "Blood…" "Screams without voices…"
She twisted restlessly, breath growing shallow.
"No," he murmured, gripping her hand. "Not tonight. Not again. I'm here."
He held her through the nightmares. Through the trembling. Through the silent cries she never allowed to pass her lips. And slowly, her breathing evened out.
She slept.
But Lorenzo did not.
He watched her as if she might disappear the moment he looked away.
There was something wrong , something deeper than words, than trauma alone. The mark of that rogue earlier… it had stirred something familiar in his bones. Something old. Something unfinished.
And then…
Her body shifted.
A faint warmth rose from her skin.
Then more.
Her scent changed , subtle but undeniable , soft, sweet, dangerous in the way only fate could be. His nostrils flared without permission. His jaw clenched.
"Heat, She's in heat "
The realization slammed into him like a curse and a blessing all at once.
His eyes dropped to her face, so peaceful now, innocent in sleep, lips parted slightly, lashes resting against her cheeks.
"You can't be…" he breathed out, voice strained. "Not her. Not now."
But his wolf stirred.
Hungry. Protective. Claiming.
A soft whimper left Elena as her brow furrowed, her body shifting closer to the heat beside her.
To him.
Even in sleep, her wolf sought him.
His hand hovered just over her cheek, knuckles tight, fighting against the urge to touch her more than this moment could allow.
"You don't even understand what you're doing to me," he murmured in a broken whisper. "And you can't even tell me to stop."
Her fingers brushed faintly against his wrist , barely a touch.
But it burned through him like fire.
She sighed his name soundlessly, lips shaping it without voice.
Lorenzo.
His heart fractured.
He bowed his head to her trembling hands, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
"I will wait," he vowed against her skin. "Until you can speak. Until you can understand. Until you choose me with more than instinct."
Outside the window, the wind howled like a warning.
But inside the room…
Two broken souls clung to each other in the quiet aftermath of blood, memory, and fate.
And the bond between them, silent, dangerous, inevitable , continued to grow.
Not with words.
But with fire.
....