Chapter 3: The Intruder

‎The wind howled against the window as the storm swallowed the world outside in white. By noon the pack’s alert chimed through the house:

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‎ROADS CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

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‎No one in. No one out.

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‎Aria stood at the kitchen counter, fingers wrapped around a mug of hot tea staring through the window. “So… we're stuck,” she murmured, inhaling deeply. Not a big deal, except her pulse had been stupidly unstable since yesterday.

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‎Rowan stood behind her, tall, broad, radiating heat. “We're not stuck," he said quietly. “You're safe here. That's all that matters."

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‎His voice was calm. Too calm. His eyes dropped to her hands, noticing how her fingers tightened on the mug.

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‎He stepped closer, without thinking. Not touching, just close, and the kitchen suddenly felt too small.

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‎Her chest skipped a beat, something he noticed. Nothing she does ever goes unnoticed by him.

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‎He closed his eyes, inhaling the sharp pull of hunger he felt. “You haven't eaten."

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‎She blinked, thrown by his bluntness. “I had tea."

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‎“That's not food."

‎He moved past her, their arms brushing, barely which made her body react instantly, a quiet jolt across her skin.

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‎She stepped aside quickly, pretending to reach for a napkin.

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‎Aria swallowed. “It's fine, Rowan. I'll eat later."

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‎He didn't answer, already reaching into the fridge, pulled out some leftovers. The simple act looked too intimate in a house this quiet.

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‎He plated the food and pushed it toward her.

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‎“Eat. I'm not asking."

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‎Her stomach fluttered, but not from the order, but from the way he refused to meet her eyes, as if looking at them for too long would cost him something he didn't want to admit.

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‎She sat, drawing the food closer.

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‎He leaned against the counter across from her, arms folded, watching every subtle changes in her expression, a habit he had picked up since her arrival. Every swallow, breath, and the shift of her thighs almost had him feral.

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‎Heat pooled low in her belly. She looked away, too late. His jaw flexed, he'd already seen.

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‎****

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‎The house, which was usually spacious and silent, now felt smaller and narrower.

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‎Aria tried to stay in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket and a book she couldn't seem to focus on; the words seemed to float around her. Her attention, her body, answered only to whenever Rowan moved.

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‎And as if trying to prove that point, he passed quietly behind her to check the windows. She felt him before she heard him. Her spine tingled; nothing new to her, yet always so exciting.

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‎Rowan paused, noticing her reactions. His fingertips brushed the frame beside her head, which made her pulse leap. He said nothing, but his jaw tightened, the muscle ticking like a warning or promise.

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‎He stepped aside abruptly and walked away, physically putting a space between them. Aria exhaled, releasing a shaky breath she didn't know she was holding.

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‎“Get it together,” she thought, but she could still feel his hands on her, his breath. Still feel him everywhere.

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‎The storm howled louder now, beating against the windows aggressively. Aria stood on her tiptoes, trying to reach a pan from the top shelf but failing miserably.

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‎“Let me." A body stepped behind her, too close and warm.

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‎His chest brushed against her back as he leaned closer, a ghost contact but her spine lit like he dragged fire across her skin.

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‎“I—I didn't hear you come in." She swallowed hard.

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‎He chuckled before he grabbed the pan, the sound like music to her ears, “ You wouldn't, even if you wanted to."

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She smiled, this was the first time he'd laughed since her arrival, at least something close to a laugh. " I wanted to make something…”

‎Slowly, she turned her head, just enough to get a glimpse of him over her shoulder.

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‎His lips were only inches from hers as his breath fanned her cheek, his grey eyes were darker. Too dark.

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Her lips parted before she even realized they had.

And for one prolonged second, neither of them moved.

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‎Then in one wild, reckless heartbeat he leaned in, slow and deliberate, like a man being lured by something stronger than control.

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‎Their lips almost brushed, a hair's breadth from touching.

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‎Then as if the lure broke, he jerked back, breathing hard, with flared nostrils, as if he'd nearly done something irreversible.

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‎“I shouldn't—"

‎He swallowed sharply. " I can't—”

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‎And without finishing, he turned and walked out.

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‎Aria stood frozen, eyes wide, chest heaving, and knees weak.

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‎The house quieted for a while after that. Food abandoned, she tried to read again. No luck.

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‎Her skin still buzzed from where his breath had touched. Her heart still clawed against her ribs like it hadn't gotten the message that she was, in fact, not kissed.

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‎“Stop Aria before it gets bad. This can't be happening." She grumbled out, scolding herself for the few seconds of pleasure she almost had with her best friend's father.

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“I cannot want him. She would never forgive me.” She blew out a shaky breath and moved towards her room.

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‎That was when she heard it. A low guttural sound coming from Rowan's office. A growl, but not the angry kind, not threatening.

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‎A sound thick with frustration. Arousal. Need.

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‎“Fuck… Aria…”

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‎Her whole body stilled. Heat flooded her chest, neck, and face so fast she grabbed the wall for balance.

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‎She shouldn't listen.

‎She should leave.

‎She should pretend she heard nothing.

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‎Aria choked on a gasp and bolted down the hall, heart pounding high in her throat. She reached her room and shut the door too quickly, pressing her back against the wood.

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‎Her skin was fever warm. Her thighs pressed together without permission.

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Isn't this what she wanted after all? For her crush to be acknowledged?

‎She hated how her body reacted. Feared it. Hated that she wasn't sure she wanted it to stop.

‎And she couldn't unhear the way he'd said her name, like a sinful worship.

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‎Hours later, the storm eased enough for silence to creep back into the room. Aria lay in bed staring at the ceiling, trying to settle her pulse and stop her mind from reeling back to Rowan.

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‎Then…

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‎Crunch. She paused her noisy mind.

‎Footsteps. Heavy and close.

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‎Right outside, below her window. Slow, not in a hurry to escape detection.

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‎She froze for a moment before quietly leaving her bed, she tiptoed towards her window to spot the sound. All she could see was total darkness.

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‎The guards had specific patrol paths. This was not among them. And Rowan's footstep was different, it was lighter and smoother.

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‎These were all shades of wrong.

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‎She heard the sound again, closer this time, then a growl, much darker, rougher, and sinister. Her chest seized.

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‎Aria stumbled back from the window, panic slicing through her.

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‎“Rowan!" She screamed, voice breaking. “ROWAN!"

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‎The footsteps stopped.

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‎Silence.

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‎Then a shadow shifted across beyond the frosted glass, and the growl came again.