My fingers tighten around the phone 146

Aria’s POV
The beeping grew louder, more urgent, drilling into my skull with each pulse. My chest heaved with ragged breaths that
didn’t seem to bring oxygen. Cassandra circled me, pressing her warm body against my legs as I trembled, her amber
eyes reflecting worry as she tried to anchor me with her presence.
The dual-natured Goddess remained unmoved, her mismatched eyes—one blinding silver, one fathomless black—fixed
upon me with ancient patience. She spoke no words, offering neither comfort nor release from what was to come.
Cassandra whined softly, nudging her muzzle beneath my chin, forcing me to look up. “*Trust*,” she seemed to say
without words, her consciousness brushing against mine.
As the room dimmed further and the memory crystallized with merciless clarity, a desperate sob tore from my throat. I
had no choice but to witness what came next, trapped in this liminal space between life and death, between knowing and
ignorance.
After what seemed like an eternity of repeating the same lines, I quieted, trembling at having to watch the worst night of
my life.
*The memory unfolded before me like petals opening to moonlight. I watched, unable to look away as past-Ethan
approached with measured steps, his movements fluid and deliberate. He entered my space with a predatory grace that
should have frightened me, yet didn’t.*
*His nostrils flared slightly as he inhaled, catching my scent. With unexpected tenderness, he reached forward, fingers
hovering momentarily before brushing an errant lock of hair from my face. The touch was feather-light, reverent almost,
as he traced a path from my forehead along my temple before tucking the strand behind my ear.*
*”Extraordinary,” he breathed, his eyes darkening with an emotion I couldn’t name.*
*My wolf—Cassandra—responded with a soft, yearning sound that vibrated through my chest. Without conscious
thought, my palm found its way to his sternum, resting over his heart. The moment skin met fabric, a jolt of sensation—
like lightning trapped beneath the surface—surged through my fingertips and up my arm.*
*The perspective shifted abruptly, and suddenly I was inhabiting my past self rather than observing. The full force of
those sensations crashed through me: the subtle scent of pine and whiskey clinging to his skin, the steady thrum of his
heartbeat beneath my palm, the mesmerizing green-gold of his eyes reflecting the dim hallway light.*
*”I’ve been waiting,” he whispered, his voice like gravel wrapped in silk, “as if I’ve known you were coming.” His palm
cradled my face, fingers curling at the nape of my neck. “Tell me you feel it too.”*
*The words rose unbidden to my lips, drawn from somewhere deeper than thought: “I’ve always been coming to you. I
just didn’t know it was you I sought.”*
I watched this exchange with mounting disbelief, shaking my head violently. “This is fabricated,” I accused, turning to the
dual-faced deity. “You’re manipulating what happened.”
The obsidian half-face remained impassive. “We do not create. We reveal.” The voice was midnight and stone, immovable
in its certainty.
I pressed my palms against my temples, trying to reconcile this tender exchange with what I’d believed for six years. “If
this is true—if we truly connected this way—then how could everything that followed happen? How could he just… leave me afterward?”
“Continue watching,” the light voice urged, not unkindly. “The tapestry reveals its pattern only when viewed in full.”
Against my will, my gaze was drawn back to the scene unfolding.
*His hand found the small of my back, the touch barely there yet somehow anchoring me to the earth. My skin beneath
the thin fabric of my shirt grew warm, then hot, as though his fingerprints were branding me. A smile—genuine and
tinged with wonder—transformed his features from merely handsome to breathtaking.*
*He dipped his head, nuzzling the sensitive junction where my neck met my shoulder. The gentle brush of his lips against
my pulse point sent a tremor through me, drawing forth a sound caught between sigh and plea. When he pulled back,
his gaze dropped to my mouth with such naked hunger that I felt consumed before he’d even tasted me.*
*He tasted of smoky oak and midnight promises. His scent—pine needles crushed underfoot, rain-soaked earth, and
something uniquely him—filled my lungs like the first real breath I’d ever taken.*
1/2
“This can’t be a mate bond,” I protested, the words catching on a sob. “If Ethan were truly my mate, I would have known
the moment we met again at the training camp. We’ve been around each other for months with nothing—nothing like what I’m seeing here.”
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“But your wolf was dormant,” the shadow-voice reminded me, “poisoned into slumber, protecting you from a truth your
heart wasn’t ready to face.”
*I swallowed hard, forcing myself to maintain eye contact despite the heat crawling up my neck. “First everything,” I
admitted, each word hanging between us. “First real kiss that mattered. First touch that burned. First time I’ve wanted
someone to…” I couldn’t finish, but my meaning was clear.*
*He went utterly still, his gaze sharpening as it searched mine. “Are you certain?” he asked, voice dropping to that
register that seemed to bypass my ears and vibrate directly through my bones. “I would never want you to regret—”*
*His hands at my waist guided me backward with exquisite care until I felt the mattress against the backs of my legs. He
broke the kiss only long enough to murmur against my lips, his voice threaded with both passion and promise: “You’ve
become essential to me in minutes. I don’t understand it, but I won’t fight it.”*
*”Then don’t,” I breathed, pulling him closer.*
*His mouth found my neck again, trailing fire wherever it touched. A gasp escaped me as he discovered a particularly
sensitive spot beneath my ear. My body arched instinctively, seeking more contact, more heat, more of him. His hands
slid beneath the hem of my top, fingers splaying across my ribs before gently moving upward, taking the fabric with
them until it cleared my head and fell forgotten to the floor.*
*When he lowered me to the bed, his movements were measured, controlled—a stark contrast to the wildfire in his eyes.
“At any moment,” he vowed, his voice strained with the effort of restraint, “one word from you and we stop. You have my
promise.”*
I felt myself being pulled away from the scene, the edges of the vision blurring as darkness began to encroach. My body
felt impossibly heavy, as though gravity had intensified tenfold.