Kenan P.O.V
The forest swallowed every sound except my pulse pounding in my ears and Polo's steady panting at my heel. The dense canopy filtered out the sun, casting shadows that shifted like ghosts. Twigs snapped behind me—careless feet. They were coming.
I didn't hesitate. When the first one lunged for my arm, I slammed my elbow into his jaw so hard his teeth clacked shut like a bear trap. The sharp crack echoed in the stillness. He stumbled back, clutching his mouth.
The second thought he was clever, trying to snatch the rabbit's trail from under me. But I was faster. I grabbed his collar and drove his face into the dirt until he stilled. Pathetic.
Polo huffed at me, tail flicking anxiously.
The scent of the rabbit tangled with something else, something sweet and dangerous. Vanilla. Roses.
Ciro.
I moved forward, breath low and steady, until I found it shivering beneath a twisted root, too scared to bolt. My fingers barely closed around the cloth tied to its neck when a voice cut through the hush like a blade.
"Kenan."
Leone stepped out from the trees, tossing his bow aside. His grin curled with spite, eyes glinting cold.
"You shouldn't keep fighting for something that doesn't belong to you," he said, tilting his head like a predator sizing me up. "Plus, I'm doing you a favor. I heard you two don't even get along. Forced pair, right?"
I laughed once, ugly and low. The sound tasted bitter in my throat.
"Who told you that?"
"Meeka," he added with a shrug, knowing the name would rattle me. "Maybe. Who knows?"
I tucked the handkerchief deeper into my coat. The fabric was warm against my palm.
"Well. I think we get along just fine."
He snorted, amused. "Sure you do."
I didn't give him time to gloat.
"Come take it then."
His fist cracked against my jaw, hard enough to blur my vision for a second. Good.
I lunged, fists flying, elbows sharp. Teeth bared like a wild animal. We slammed into trees, boots grinding up dirt and splintering bark. I caught him in a headlock; he dug his nails into my ribs, spitting curses like venom.
Too slow.
I shoved him back, pinned him against a thick trunk. One. Two. Three. Bark splintered beneath my knuckles, which were already split and burning. I should have stopped when he dropped his hands, but I didn't. I couldn't.
Polo barked, pacing in tight circles, hackles raised.
It took too long to pull back.
When I finally did, Leone crumpled at the roots, blood dripping from his mouth, eyes half-shut.
I tasted the remnants of the fight when I licked my lip.
But the handkerchief? Still there.
I broke through the clearing. The forest fell silent. Gravel crunched under my boots, my scent rolling off me thick, choking, wild.
And there he was.
Ciro.
I stopped inches from him, chest heaving, sweat slick and salty. He looked at me, stunned. I could see his eyes darting from my bruised cheek to my bloodied hand. My entire body trembled—not from exertion, but from something worse. Raw emotion. Panic. Relief.
Because I made it. I made it back to him before anyone else could.
Before anyone else could touch him. Catch his scent. Claim him.
That fear—God, that fear had been digging into my gut all morning. What if someone else was faster? What if someone else had gotten it? I didn't want to imagine it. Couldn't.
The truth was, I never expected to react the way I did earlier. It was pure impulse, nothing more. When I said I didn't want to switch, I meant it. As stubborn as I am about my feelings, I also know I've started to care for him more than I'm willing to admit.
The memory hit me like a punch. The way he knelt beside Polo, gently tying that handkerchief around his neck. The way he smiled, without thinking. Not just out of politeness. Something real. Soft. Sharp.
Something that struck straight through me.
I hated how much I remembered it. Hated how much it mattered.
And now here I am. Standing in front of him. Watching his lips part slightly, confused. Watching the flush creep up his neck.He didn't know what to say. Neither did I.
My fingers twitched. One heartbeat. Two.
And then the impulse washed over me.
The impulse washed over me, sudden and heavy. I grabbed his arm right near his tricep and pulled him forward.
My lips crushed into his.
It wasn't slow. It wasn't sweet. It was claiming.
My pheromones, which I swore I'd keep in check, poured out of me like a flood. They wrapped around him instantly, clinging, crashing, marking him. I felt him stagger slightly in my grip, but I didn't let go. His lips were soft, shocked. They took a moment to respond but they did.
He tasted like the heat of a fight and something sweeter underneath. My body responded before my brain did.
I pressed the handkerchief into his palm. Too hard. Too fast.
"Here." My voice scraped raw.
He flinched, but didn't move away. His eyes, confused, vulnerable, asked me everything I didn't know how to give.
Before his hand could reach for my face, I turned away.
Polo nudged my leg, whining softly. I didn't look at him either.
I didn't look back. Because if I did, I might not be able to walk away at all.
I walked wherever my feet wanted. My breathing refused to calm. My pheromones clung to me like tar.
Who gave them the right to try and take him?
What made them think they could?
My phone buzzed.
Ciro: What happened to you?
I stared.
Blocked.
Polo padded beside me as I climbed the stairs to my apartment. He didn't leave my side.
But the question stayed with me.
What happened to me?
Because maybe just maybe it wasn't about defending a handkerchief.
Maybe it was about protecting the only thing I didn't want to lose.