Chapter 1
People say Havenwood is quiet.
They say nothing ever happens here—that the woods are just trees, the shadows just tricks of the light, and the unease that sometimes creeps in is nothing more than imagination brushing up against boredom.
I used to believe that.
By the time I got home that evening, the day still clung to me, unfinished and restless. Early shifts always did that—left me buzzing, keyed up, like something inside me was wound too tight and begging to be burned off. I dropped my bag by the door and stood there longer than necessary, listening to the familiar creaks and sighs of the house as it settled around me.
My hand drifted absently to the inside of my wrist.
The faint, moon-shaped birthmark sat there as it always had—pale, light blue, almost silvery in certain light. Something I’ve always had. That’s what Sarah always told me. Nothing special. Just a quirk of skin.
Lately, though, it had been… irritating.
The skin there itched more than usual, a deep, persistent sensation no amount of lotion seemed to soothe. Sometimes it felt warmer than the rest of my hand, like heat trapped beneath the surface. I rubbed at it now, frowning.
Dry skin, I told myself. Long shifts. Stress.
Still, I couldn’t shake the unease that came with it. The way the warmth seemed to pulse sometimes, almost like it was responding to something I couldn’t see. I flexed my fingers, forcing the thought away. I was tired. That was all.
Outside, Havenwood was easing into dusk. The sky softened behind the tree line, pale blues bleeding into bruised purples. Pine-scented air drifted through the open window and slid under my skin, stirring something old and wordless in my chest.
I needed air. Movement. Space to think.
“I’m going for a walk,” I said, already reaching for my jacket.
Sarah glanced up from the kitchen, her expression tightening just enough that I noticed. “Alright,” she replied, then hesitated. “Stay on your normal path.”
I paused at the door, fingers curling around the frame. “I always do.”
The moment my boots hit the dirt trail, the woods closed around me like they’d been waiting. Cool air brushed my cheeks, carrying the rich scent of earth, pine, and something darker—something that made my pulse quicken. I walked deeper, letting the rhythm of my steps bleed off the restless energy coiled inside me.
Tonight, however, something felt different. The woods seemed... louder. The usual symphony of crickets and rustling leaves was punctuated by an unnerving silence, a hush that felt heavy and watchful. I shook my head, chalking it up to fatigue. I was just tired. It was making me jumpy.
I followed the well-trodden dirt path, my brunette hair, usually tied back in a messy bun, now loose and whipping around my face in the gentle breeze. The moon, a brilliant silver coin in the inky sky, filtered through the canopy, casting long, dancing shadows that played tricks on my eyes.
As I reached a fork in the path, one I never took, a strange impulse seized me. The path to the left was the one I always took, the safe, predictable one that led directly to the small cottage I shared with my mother, Sarah. The path to the right was less traveled, overgrown, and rumored to be unsafe, a place where even the most seasoned hunters hesitated to go.
But tonight, the pull was undeniable. It was a magnetic tug in my chest, a curious hum beneath my skin that urged me forward. It felt like something was calling to me, beckoning me with invisible fingers that traced down my spine and settled low in my belly.
Against my better judgment, my feet veered right, crunching over fallen twigs and dried leaves that crackled like firecrackers in the oppressive silence. The deeper I went, the more the air changed. It grew thicker, charged with an energy that made the fine hairs on my arms stand on end. It was primal, wild, and utterly intoxicating. My skin felt too tight, too sensitive, like every nerve ending was suddenly awake and searching for something I couldn’t name.
I didn’t know how long I walked, time losing all meaning in the labyrinth of ancient trees. Then— Snap.
I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I spun around, my eyes wide, scanning the darkness.
“Hello?” My voice echoed weakly. “Is someone there?”
Another sound followed, closer this time.
Panic began to bubble in my throat. This was a mistake. A stupid, reckless mistake.
I turned to retrace my steps, but the path behind me was gone, swallowed by an impenetrable wall of shadow and foliage. I was well and truly lost. A low growl, deep and guttural, rumbled from the darkness ahead of me.
It wasn’t a bear; I knew what a bear sounded like. This was something else. Something that vibrated through the soles of my boots and resonated deep within my bones. The sound traveled through me, settling in places it had no right to settle, making my breath catch and my thighs clench involuntarily. something I couldn’t name.
---
Then the shadows ahead shifted.
He stepped out of them like he’d always been there.
Tall. Broad. Powerful in a way that felt effortless, dangerous, and devastatingly male. Moonlight traced the hard lines of his face, catching in his dark hair and illuminating eyes the color of molten amber. They locked onto mine with an intensity that made my stomach flip.
He was massive, larger than any man I had ever seen, with broad shoulders and a powerful build that was barely contained by the dark fabric of his clothing. His jaw was sharp, shadowed with stubble, and his lips—god, his lips—were full and curved in a way that made heat bloom unbidden in my cheeks.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.
His voice rolled through me, low and steady, like velvet dragged over gravel. It sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold. My nipples tightened beneath my thin shirt, and I prayed the darkness hid my body’s traitorous response.
Fear sparked—but beneath it was something far more dangerous. Recognition. Want. A primal, aching need that I didn’t understand and couldn’t control.
“I was just walking,” I said softly, though I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to explain. My voice came out breathier than I intended. “I didn’t realize—”
“This path isn’t meant for humans,” he cut in, taking a step closer.
All I could focus on was his proximity. The heat radiating from his body. The scent of him—pine and earth and something darker, muskier, something that made my mouth water and my core clench with a sudden, desperate ache.
“What’s your name, little human?”
I bristled at the condescending tone, my fear momentarily overridden by a surge of indignation—and something else. Something that thrilled at being called his. “My name is Andrea. And I’m not ‘little’ anything.”
I lifted my chin, meeting his intense gaze head-on, a spark of defiance flaring in my chest. But even as I challenged him, I couldn’t ignore the way my body leaned toward him, drawn like a moth to a flame.
His smirk widened, a flicker of something like amusement in his amber eyes. But there was hunger there too—a raw, predatory hunger that made my knees weak and my pulse race.
“Andrea,” he repeated, my name rolling off his tongue like a prayer and a curse. The way he said it, low and reverent, made heat pool between my thighs. I pressed them together, desperate to ease the sudden, throbbing ache.
“I’m Elijah.”
He reached out, his fingers calloused and rough as they brushed a stray strand of hair from my cheek. The touch was electric, a jolt of pure, unadulterated energy that shot through my body, leaving me breathless and trembling. Fire raced from the point of contact, spreading through my veins like liquid heat. My lips parted on a gasp, my body swaying toward him without my permission.
He felt it too; I saw it in the sudden widening of his eyes, the sharp intake of breath. His nostrils flared, and for a moment, his control seemed to slip. His hand lingered on my cheek, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone with agonizing slowness. The pad of his thumb was rough, and I found myself imagining what those hands would feel like elsewhere—trailing down my neck, my collarbone, lower...
He snatched his hand back as if he’d been burned, his expression a mixture of shock and raw hunger. A low sound rumbled in his chest—almost a growl—and I watched his jaw clench as he visibly fought for control.
The air between us crackled. Neither of us spoke for a moment.
My heart was racing—not with fear, but with something deeper. Something terrifyingly intimate. I didn’t understand how standing this close to a stranger could feel so... right. So necessary. Like every moment of my life had been leading to this exact spot, this exact man.
I wanted to step closer. I wanted to press my body against his and feel the hard planes of his chest against my aching breasts. I wanted to bury my face in his neck and breathe him in until his scent was imprinted on my soul.
The intensity of my own desire terrified me.
“You need to turn around,” Elijah said finally, his voice tight, controlled. But I could see the strain in his neck, the way his hands were clenched at his sides like he was fighting the urge to reach for me again. “Go back the way you came.”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “Why?”
His jaw clenched, amber eyes darkening to burnished gold. They dropped to my lips, lingering there for a heartbeat too long before dragging back up to meet my gaze. “Because this is my territory.”
I laughed, the sound nervous and breathy. “So, what, because you stand there you get to claim this area? It’s not the 15th century. You can’t claim Terra Nullius. Also, this is a walking trail, free to the public.”
Elijah looked at me, amusement flickering across his devastatingly handsome features. He stepped closer—close enough that I could feel the heat of his body seeping into mine, close enough that if I swayed forward just an inch, our chests would touch.
“You’re smart,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, intimate register that made my toes curl in my boots. “Okay. But when I say it’s my territory, I mean it’s my land. My property. After that fork in the path, it’s all mine.”
His eyes traced down my body with a possessive heat that made my skin flush and my breath quicken. When his gaze finally returned to mine, there was a knowing glint there—like he could smell my arousal, like he knew exactly what effect he was having on me.
“Normally we don’t get strays,” he continued, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through my chest.
My cheeks flushed hot. “I didn’t know this land belonged to anyone. There’s literally a sign that says public trail. So... sorry.” I managed, though my voice came out embarrassingly husky.
I should step back. I should turn around and run. Every rational part of my brain was screaming at me to get away from this dangerous, magnetic man. But my body refused to obey.
Elijah’s lips curved into a smile that was equal parts predatory and seductive. “It’s okay, little mate.”
The word mate hit me like a physical blow, sending a rush of heat straight to my core. My thighs clenched again, and I could feel the slick evidence of my arousal dampening my underwear.
“Little mate?” I repeated, my voice shakier than I would have liked.
Elijah stepped even closer, eliminating what little space remained between us. His chest nearly brushed mine, and I could feel the heat of him radiating through my clothes. His scent enveloped me—intoxicating, overwhelming, making my head spin and my body throb with need.
“I’d suggest you turn around and head back little mate,” he said, but his voice was rougher now, strained. His eyes had darkened, and I could see the rapid pulse beating at the base of his throat. He was affected too. Whatever this magnetic pull was, he felt it just as intensely as I did.
I looked up at him, my lips parting. I wanted to say something clever, something dismissive. But all I could think about was how easy it would be to rise up on my toes and press my lips to his. How good his hands would feel gripping my hips, pulling me against the hard length I could see straining against his jeans.
The thought shocked me. I didn’t know this man. I didn’t know anything about him. But my body didn’t seem to care. My body wanted him with a ferocity that bordered on madness.
“Why do you keep calling me that?” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “Mate?”
Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe. Or recognition. His hand lifted, almost unconsciously, hovering near my hip without touching. I could feel the phantom warmth of his palm, and I ached for him to close the distance.
“Go home, Andrea,” he said instead, his voice rough. “This isn’t the place for you.”
But even as he said it, neither of us moved. We stood there, locked in a moment that felt suspended outside of time, our breath mingling in the cool night air. The tension was unbearable—a taut wire stretched between us, vibrating with unspoken desire and dangerous promise.
Finally, I forced myself to step back. My legs felt like jelly, my entire body humming with unfulfilled need. “Fine,” I managed. “But only because I don’t want to trespass.”
Elijah’s lips twitched. “Of course.”
I turned, forcing one foot in front of the other. But I could feel his eyes on me—a physical weight that tracked my every movement, burning into my back like a brand. I wanted to look back. I wanted to run back and throw myself into his arms.
I didn’t.
But as I walked away, something inside me shifted. Something felt like it awakened. And all I hoped was that I would see Elijah again. That whatever had sparked between us in that moonlit clearing could only be the beginning.
