The Pull

Kael

The moment she stepped into the forest, I felt her.

A ripple in the air, a shift in energy—like a scent carried on the wind before a storm. It was subtle at first, a whisper against my instincts, but as she ventured deeper, the pull became undeniable.

I watched her from the shadows, unseen, silent.

She shouldn't have been here.

No human had crossed this boundary in years, not since the last time blood was spilled on this land. The others would sense her soon. If they hadn't already.

And if they found her before I did, she wouldn't leave this forest alive.

She was small, fragile compared to the creatures lurking in these woods, but there was something about her—something that made my wolf stir beneath my skin. She moved with hesitation, yet there was an odd certainty in her steps, as if she was being pulled by something she didn't understand.

Then she stopped.

She sensed me.

Her heart pounded loud enough that I could hear it, fast and erratic. The scent of fear curled in the air, mingling with something else—something intriguing.

She turned, and our eyes met.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

The moonlight revealed her face—wide, startled eyes, lips slightly parted as if she had forgotten how to breathe. I had seen many humans before, but none like her. There was something different about her. Something… familiar.

"You shouldn't be here," I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

She flinched at the sound, but she didn't run. That surprised me. Most humans would have.

"Who are you?" she asked.

I didn't answer. If she knew who I was—what I was—she would regret ever stepping foot in these woods.

When she didn't move, I tried again. "You need to leave."

Her fists clenched. "Not until you tell me what you are."

Brave. Or reckless.

I stared at her, debating whether to lie. But she had already seen too much. She already knew.

"You already know," I said.

I saw the exact moment the truth clicked in her mind. The way her breath hitched. The way her pulse stuttered.

"You're a…" She swallowed. "A werewolf."

The shift was instant. A ripple of energy surged through me, answering the unspoken challenge in her voice. My body responded before my mind had time to process it, as if hearing the truth forced me to shed the beast.

Bones cracked, shifting, reshaping. Fur receded. My limbs elongated, my posture straightening as I rose onto two feet. The change from wolf to man was effortless, a transformation I had long since mastered. It was not a painful thing—not for me—but it always left behind a sharp awareness, a lingering reminder of the power just beneath my skin.

I stood before her now, fully human.

Moonlight caught the ridges of my body, casting shadows along my bare chest, emphasizing every taut muscle. My shoulders were broad, my torso lean yet powerful, carved with strength honed through years of battle. Scars ran along my arms, barely visible in the dim light, silent reminders of the wars I had fought.

But it was my face that held her still.

She stared, her breath uneven, eyes tracing the sharp angles of my jaw, the high cheekbones, the deep-set silver eyes that hadn't changed even in this form. My hair was dark, falling in unruly waves across my forehead, the only imperfection in a face others had called both striking and dangerous.

I had seen that look before.

Awe. Wariness.

Something else.

But this time, it unsettled me.

Her lips parted, but no words came out. She swallowed, her throat working, her eyes darting across my body before finally meeting mine.

And in that moment, something changed.

Recognition.

It made no sense. We had never met before. And yet, the way she looked at me…

As if she had seen me before. As if some part of her already knew me.

The feeling was unwelcome, sharp, curling in my gut like a warning I didn't understand.

"You need to go," I said again, though my voice had lost its edge.

She didn't move.

I clenched my jaw, knowing I was out of time. If she stayed, if she kept looking at me like that, I wouldn't be able to let her go.

And that was something I couldn't afford.

So I did the only thing I could.

I turned and disappeared into the night, forcing myself not to look back.

But even as I ran, I knew one thing for certain.

This wasn't over.

Not even close.