It is said that when your emotion is engaged, you often struggle to see things as they are. That is how she made me feel.

She would saw seeds of innocent temptation into my heart, an inexplicable familiarity and even a little danger. She had made me lose my reason, and all I knew was that I wanted to be near her. Even if that meant we were both in danger.

I was near the outskirts of the woods, and the smoky scent that drifted from the heart of our pack's nest engulfed the crowns of the trees that raised to the clouds.

One could say that this was a breakthrough for us. The first time in 86 full moons. The drought had ended, with losses - compromises, and with sacrifices. But it had finally came to an end. My people were able to go to the Highlands, we had food to eat, and the coming-of-marking-age celebrations had once again given us a reason to be happy to be alive and maybe even to flourish.

We had finally had a chance to be with each other. Not just for survival, or for hiding. Communion for Lykans is essential. It is in our blood; we yearn to be with each other. We thrive that way.

However happy such occasion may have been, that was not where my mind was. It was not where I was. I had not been in my right mind for a while.

The soil crumbled under our feet, sullying our skin. Her hand was pressed against my chest as she laid in my arms.

The warmth of her body.

Her touch.

Her skin on mine.

I was scared of what my instincts were telling me to do. The desire which made me blind to the reality which we both were in was an abomination to nature.

She was not like us.

Lykans were not made this way. I was not supposed to feel what I was feeling.

Not for her.

"I must tell you," I whispered, finally not baring the silence between us. "There isn't anybody else, truthfully." The confession seemed effortless as it escaped my lips.

I felt the need for there to be not a single thing that made her doubt me.

Gazing upon her tender being, I caressed her cheek as softly as I could, afraid that the roughness of their state might scrape her skin.

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a Lykan who's reached their awakening period, and has yet to find a mate, would undoubtedly turn into an Omega.

Being an Omega means not being able to remain in a pack. Consequently, a Lykan's constitution makes you want to find your other half. Your instincts remind you that you are closer and closer to the edge with each passing full moon.

Your reason keeps you sane.

But for how long?

My very existence was a living reminder that an Omega is a danger to a pack.

And despite the fact that it's been 144 full moons since my awakening, I have yet to find a mate.

Something must have been wrong with me.

Against my better judgement, every word that came out of her mouth and every touch of hers made me question myself. It made me question my resolution.

It felt impossible for me to tell her I couldn't bring myself to try and find a mate. I wanted to let her know.

It was only her. Since the very beginning.

Only her.

Before she asked me to mark her. Before I pulled her from Malum. Even before my desperate prays to the Mother of the sky to let me see her again. On the very first moment I met her, I knew, there was nothing that I would want more.

Infatuation.

My trail of thought was abruptly interrupted when her lips, clumsily pressed against mine, prompted my senses to heighten.

I told myself that we can't.

We shouldn't.

"I must stop," my reason whispered, too quiet for me to listen to its plead.

The warmth of her kisses melted my resilience. My blood boiled, rushing through my chest, numbing my limbs, pulsing through my temples.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

The flavour of her lips. The warmth of her mouth.

THUMP.

THUMP.

THUMP.

Her skin under my touch. Her flesh in my grasp.

THUMP – THUMP – THUMP

Her teeth on my skin. A kiss on my lips. Blood in my mouth.

T H U M P !     T H U M P !   T H U M P !