I must be entering my IDGAF era because I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck.
Caged in my hotel room alone, I’ve been standing in the dark, staring out the window for far too long. Thanks to our bond and my stupid werewolf hearing, I knew Stone was leaving the hotel and telling no one.
Not even me.
The moment he was no longer in the vicinity, it was like all of the air had been sucked out of my lungs. Every breath since then has been a struggle, each one a labor through thick, unseen waters, and my skin prickles with a restless energy I can’t quell.
The reasonable side of me—the human Ella who calculates every decision like a mom juggling her kids’ extracurriculars—has been shoved into a corner by this wild, new presence clawing its way out. The wolf inside me is prowling, snarling against the confines of my skin, and all because he dared to leave when every instinct screamed for him to stay close.
How very dare he?
The thought ricochets through my skull like a bullet, leaving rage in its wake. The silence in the hotel room amplifies every subtle sound, turning the clock’s ticking into a taunt and the distant laughter from another room into a sneer. I can even make out Jinx’s chuckles at whatever alien documentary she’s watching and it makes me want to hurl my lamp at the wall.
The horrendously wallpapered walls close in, a physical manifestation of the pressure building inside my chest. Whatever this is, it’s not just anger—it’s a betrayal that stings sharper than any wound I’ve ever nursed and I can’t even process why.
Instead, I give into the indignation, letting it consume me—no longer willing to play nice about all that’s happening.
Fate is a fucking asshole.
As minutes morph into hours, the tension knots deeper. My pacing wears a figurative trench in the carpet. Back and forth, back and forth—a relentless metronome of rising fury.
Why isn’t he here? Where the fuck did he go?
Each step hammers home a growing list of accusations, each more unreasonable than the last, but I can’t stop them. They feed the fury, and the fury feeds the wolf.
Outside, the night deepens, shadows stretching across the ground like dark fingers. The moon hangs low, a silent witness to my unraveling. In its light, I see my reflection in the window—a wild-eyed, barely recognizable version of myself.
The sight should startle me—force me to take stock and calm down, but it doesn’t.
It fuels me.
I grab my phone, a lifeline to sanity I should reach for, but my fingers tremble with such ferocity that I nearly drop it. Texts and missed calls from my kids go unchecked. The thought of speaking to anyone else, of having to pretend even for a minute that I’m not coming undone, is unbearable.
I throw the phone down, watching it bounce on the bed and crash against the lamp on my nightstand.
Good, let it break. Let everything break.
The sounds of drunk singing and laughter float up from the street below—taunting, mocking.
Envy mixes with my anger.
How can the world continue to spin so indifferently?
Don’t they feel it?
I tug at my hair, desperate to release this tension. I’ve faced off against rivals and enemies with a cold precision, never once losing my cool like this.
What’s happening to me?
This ache—this void expanding inside me with each second he’s away.
My thoughts spiral, dark and uncontrollable—and even though I can acknowledge it, I can’t seem to stop them.
I imagine Stone, out there somewhere, possibly laughing just like those drunk people—carefree and distant.
Does he feel this tension, this gnawing emptiness? Or is it just me, tethered alone to a curse that feels more like a noose with every breath?
I pace faster, the energy within me a cyclone that needs to wreak havoc—to explode. I’m a caged animal, and the cage is my own skin—my own failing resolve.
He should be here, fixing this. Not leaving me to drown in a sea of my own tumultuous emotions.
And then, as if summoned by my rage, I hear the sound of his footsteps in the hallway—his return not a moment too soon but ages too late. My heart, which should leap with relief, instead pounds with fierce determination.
This isn’t over. Oh, no.
It’s just beginning.
As his key card clicks against his door, I steady myself.
Tonight, I don’t plan to hold back.
Tonight, he will hear everything—every raw, unfiltered truth my raging heart can hurl at him.
Because I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck.
Not anymore.
When I hear the door to his room click shut, my body tenses and my heart beats a furious tattoo against my ribs.
I should go over there.
Right now, I should—
My anger loses some of its steam and for some reason, that pulls me up short.
It’s still there.
The rage.
The acrimony desperately wants to be let out to play.
But I can’t move.
For minutes—hell, maybe hours, I stand there.
Then, his door opens and I sense him moving again. This time, toward me.
The sound of his footsteps approaching my door feels like a countdown—each one reverberating through the charged silence of the corridor.
By the time his knock finally sounds, it’s almost a relief—almost.
It kicks something loose in me and I’m on the move.
I wrench the door open, and there he stands—a mix of shadow and light, his face drawn tight with lines of worry that only fuel my anger.
“What do you want, Stone?” I snap, not even bothering to hide the edge in my voice.
Stone’s eyes, usually so calm and reassuring—at least before all of this bullshit—now reflect the storm brewing between us.
“Ella, we need to talk,” he says, his voice a strained whisper that somehow pierces the tension.
“Talk?” I scoff, folding my arms over my chest. “Now you want to talk? You request a separate room, walk out without telling anyone, and now you decide it’s time to talk?”
The disbelief and hurt tangle together, making my words sharper—harsher.
He takes a deep breath, visibly bracing himself against the barrage. “I know how it looks, but you have to understand—being close to you right now… It’s not helping. This curse is—”
“Torture?” I cut in, my voice rising with each word. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t feel it too? But maybe that’s the point, Stone. Maybe we’re supposed to feel this, to fight through it, not run from it.”
He steps forward, closing the gap I’d been guarding so fiercely. His presence envelops me, the familiar scent of him—pine and storm—washing over me, stirring a mix of anger and longing that I hate and crave in equal measure.
My resolve slips just a little bit.
“I’m not running,” he practically growls, pushing me against the wall. I groan at the contact, but it ignites something else inside me—a fire that burns beneath the surface. Then, shaking off his flare of aggression, his hands lift to cup my face, his touch a spark to my dry tinder. “I’m trying to protect you—from myself, from this curse, and from the way it makes me want to claim you in ways that might...”
His words trail off, but his eyes burn into mine, dark and intense.
“Claim me?” I echo, my breath catching, my body leaning into his touch despite my agitation. “That’s what you were doing when this stupid curse was triggered. As I recall, the thought of claiming me disgusted you.”
Another growl rumbles through his chest and the animal in him is back as he leans in, his voice low, “Do you really believe that?”
He presses his hips closer, grinding his erection against my hipbone and a burst of lust rolls through me. This is not a side of Stone I’ve seen come out to play before and it’s messing with my head.
“Maybe?” I admit, but my resolve is faltering at his proximity.
He drops his hand to mine and forces me to cup him. “I might say stupid shit, but my body can’t lie, Ella. Not to you.”
I huff a breath, desperate for the air to fill my lungs since he joined me in this room. My fingertips squeeze and he pulls my hand away with a low string of verbal curses.
“I just want to protect you—” he says, his voice a low whisper as his gaze drops to my lips.
“I can protect myself, Stone. I don’t need you to do it for me. Alpha here, remember?” The challenge in my voice matches the defiant lift of my chin, despite the way my body warms beneath his fingertips.
A smirk slides across his lips, but he doesn’t say anything.
“You don’t believe me?” I spit back. “Oh, that’s right. I don’t deserve to be Alpha. I forgot.”
His thumb strokes my cheek, a soft contradiction to the tension binding us. “Ella, this curse, whatever it is, it’s tearing at me. One second I’m good—I’m me. The next, I want to fight against you and make you hate me so I can get more distance between us. When we’re together, I can’t always fight off the words that come out of my mouth and I hate it. It’s miserable.”
“Being apart is miserable. It’s messing with my head. It’s—” I lick my lips. “I feel like you don’t want me. Like everything we were building is…”
His nostrils flare and his eyes dart back to my lips. “Ella, I want you. I want us to—”
“Then prove it,” I interrupt, my voice low, dangerous with an offer that tempts and terrifies me in the same breath.
For a long heartbeat, we stand there, locked in a stand-off of wills and desires, the air thick with unsaid words and unspent passion.
Then, impulsively, recklessly, he closes the last of the distance between us. His lips crash against mine with a desperation that borders on possession—a claiming that has nothing to do with curses and everything to do with the desperate need we both feel.
The kiss is a clash—a storm of teeth and tongues, and a battle we are both determined to win and lose in equal measure.
Stone’s hands slide back into my hair, pulling slightly, tilting my head back to deepen the kiss. The sting is sweet, sparking a thrill that shoots through my nerves as it lights up the dark corners of desire I’d forced into submission.
His other hand traces a searing path down my spine, pressing me closer against him until there is no space for doubts, just the overwhelming sense of being consumed.
Our breaths mingle, ragged and hot, feeding the flames that each touch stokes. My hands find his chest, pushing not to separate but to feel the solid reality of him beneath my palms.
God, I’ve missed this. Missed him.
The room spins slightly. The walls echo with the low growls that escape him and the soft whimpers that I can’t hold back.
This isn’t just a kiss—it’s a battle for control, a desperate clash of lips and teeth where each retreat feels as devastating as a surrender—and every advance tastes like victory.
But as quickly as the storm rises, it breaks.
Stone’s lips slow their fervent assault, the pressure easing as his kisses turn from demanding to almost stilted. The sudden shift leaves me reeling, my heart pounding against the cage of my ribs, desperate for something I can’t name because I’ve lost all semblance of words.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark pools of emotion that I’m afraid to drown in.
“Ella,” he whispers, his voice rough with the remnants of our storm. “I—”
“No,” I cut him off, stepping away—the air between us a cold shock after the heat. “Don’t.”
I can’t hear his excuses, not now. Not when my body is still humming with the imprint of his touch. Not when my lips still burn with the memory of his and my body wants him desperately inside me.
He frowns, the lines around his eyes deepening in confusion—or is it pain? “Ella, I’m trying to—”
“Don’t you dare say protect me.”
He takes a step forward, his hand reaching out as if to bridge the gap I’ve put between us. “It’s not that simple.”
“Make it simple,” I challenge, my voice steadier than I feel. “Tell me this is what you want. Tell me you’re not just reacting to whatever this curse makes you feel.”
His hand drops to his side, and he looks away, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “I can’t,” he admits, and it feels like a blow to my chest.
“Great,” I say, nodding to myself, the sting of tears prickling in my eyes.
“I don’t trust myself with you,” he says, his voice barely audible over the ringing in my ears. “Not like this. Not until we figure out how to break this curse. What if I hurt you? I couldn’t—”
I stare at him, my heart breaking under the weight of his words. The room feels colder now, emptier.
“Then maybe you should go back to Black Crater,” I say, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
His eyes snap to mine, hurt flashing across his features before it’s quickly masked. “Is that what you want?”
I want to scream that it’s not, that I want him to stay, to fight through this with me. But the fear and the uncertainty hold my true feelings hostage.
“I don’t know what I want,” I confess, my voice breaking. “But I can’t do this.”
Stone nods slowly, a resigned acceptance setting into his posture. “I’ll go if that’s what you need.”
It’s not what I need, but maybe it’s what we need.
To find our footing again.
As he turns to leave, a part of me wants to call him back, to rewind and replay this all differently.
But I don’t.
Instead, I watch him walk away, each step echoing like a finality in my heart, leaving me alone with the echoes of what might have been.