I watch him as he tastes the soup. His eyes widen slightly — a flicker of surprise. Guess he liked it. My gaze drifts to the scar along his neck. I'm still curious about it. I might still be angry after he choked me that time, but questions keep clawing at my mind.
His eyes lift to meet mine, the silence between us thick and awkward.
"Ask,"
his deep voice cuts through it, startling me. My brows knit as I clear my throat, bracing myself.
"What are you?"
I ask, hesitant. I know this question could change everything.
"Black panther."
His answer is flat, unimpressed, as he keeps eating.
"I know you know what I meant, beast."
He chuckles, low, amused, but says nothing more. That's it. Just that. No explanation. No truth.
Only that dangerous smile that says he's hiding something big.
"What happened?"
I point at the scar on his chest.
Silence.
He doesn't even look at me , just keeps eating like I hadn't said anything. The longer he stayed quiet, the more my blood boiled.
"At least answer!"
I snap, my voice rising despite myself. Nothing. Not a flinch. Not even a glance. The sound of his spoon scraping the bowl was the only thing between us, and it felt like mockery.
My chest tightened with anger. I grabbed the glass of water and splashed it right in his face.
He gasped, sharp and sudden, water dripping down his jaw and chest. For a second, his eyes went wide, and then darkened. The air shifted. My heart skipped. His stare pinned me to the floor, cold, unreadable, but burning all the same.
I bite my lip, a silent acknowledgment of my doom, but I will not surrender without a fight. Then his pheromones hit me, a potent wave that curls through the air and twists around my body. I slap a hand over my nose and mouth, recognizing his attempt to dominate me. A squirm works its way through me as I grip the edge of the table. Heat pools low in my belly, and my thoughts dissolve into a clouded need. A desperate want for him to claim me. I press my thighs together, trying to stifle the instinct. Bringing him here was a terrible mistake.
Without warning, I am swept up into his arms. The room melts into a blur of blue. A flush burns the tips of my long ears, and my plush tail betrays me with its frantic twitching. I want him.
I was terrified of what came next. Terrified he would take advantage of me, and terrified of how this would change everything between us. There would be no going back.
A weak, traitorous sob escaped my lips.
"Stop, please~"
The plea was meant to be a command, but it came out as a breathy moan, laced with a desire I hated. I was fighting a war on two fronts: one against the man overwhelming me, and another against the primal need awakening within my own body. I didn't want to surrender to these instincts that were rewriting my very will. This wasn't me; this was some base, instinct-driven creature I could no longer control.
My fear was a cold, sharp shard in my chest, a final remnant of my rational mind screaming in protest. But it was being smothered, drowned out by the roaring heat that pooled low in my stomach, spreading through my veins like liquid fire. Every frantic beat of my heart pushed his scent deeper into me, a fragrant poison that clouded my thoughts and promised a blissful oblivion I both craved and feared.
I was scared. So utterly, completely scared, not just of him, but of myself, and of the part of me that was already begging to stop fighting.
I felt my back land gently on the soft sheets of my bed, followed by the comforting weight of him settling beside me. His deep voice was a quiet rumble in my ear, cutting through the fog of my panic.
"Bella, relax. You're in heat."
The words were a key, unlocking the truth. The predatory tension, the fight for control. It was all an illusion I had created in my fevered state. He wasn't my captor; he was my anchor, only trying to help me.
A sob of relief caught in my throat. I opened my eyes, looking up at him through a veil of tears, seeing the genuine concern in his gaze. The last of my resistance shattered. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into a desperate, grateful hug, burying my face against his shoulder.
In the wake of the fear, a new, profound instinct surged within me: the deep-seated urge to nest, to build a safe haven. My parents weren't here. There was only him. Only us.
Knox's POV:
I felt her back land gently on the soft sheets of her bed, and I followed, settling my weight carefully beside her. My own voice was a low, steady rumble in her ear, a desperate attempt to cut through the feverish panic that gripped her.
"Bella, relax. You're in heat."
A part of me was breaking, hearing her sobs, seeing her look at me with such terror. I needed her to see the truth. And then, she did. I watched the illusion shatter in her tear-filled eyes, the realization that it was me, that I would never harm her. The relief that washed through me was so potent it left me lightheaded.
When her arms flew around my neck, pulling me into a desperate hug, it was a balm to my own frayed soul. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, my arms encircling her, one hand cradling the back of her head. I held her tightly, feeling her tremble against me.
"I've got you," I murmured into her hair, my voice thick. "You're safe, Bella. I've got you."
Feeling her trust, so complete and freely given, ignited a fierce, protective fire in my chest. And as I felt the subtle shift in her, the instinct to nest and seek safety, a silent vow, solidified within me. Her parents weren't here. It was just me. And I would be her shelter. I would be the foundation she could build her nest upon, for as long as she needed me.