Bella's POV:
I walked through the bustling streets with a cup of coffee in hand, feeling surprisingly light. The morning air buzzed with life, and for once, it matched my mood. Earlier, I'd talked to Mia, she told me everything that had happened, from the date to the car ride. I couldn't help but smile for her. After everything, those two finally found their way to each other. They belonged together, and somehow, knowing that made my day a little brighter.
I took another sip of my coffee, letting the warmth chase away the last of the morning chill. Couples brushed past me on the sidewalk, laughter and conversation swirling like background music. Normally, scenes like that made me roll my eyes, but today… I didn't mind it so much.
Maybe it was Mia's happiness rubbing off on me. Or maybe it was because every time I thought of her story, a certain panther's face kept flickering in my mind, annoying, unreadable, and infuriatingly attractive.
Knox.
I still couldn't believe everything I'd learned about him. Twenty-eight. Undercover. Gone.
The words replayed in my head like a bad song I couldn't turn off. I had told myself I didn't care, that I was glad not to see his grumpy face lurking around campus anymore. But the empty spot at the edge of every crowd told a different story.
I sighed, shaking my head as I crossed the street. "Pathetic," I muttered under my breath. "He was an annoying, overgrown cat with a superiority complex."
Still, the memory of that kiss, the heat, the wild, silent claim, lingered like a ghost.
Maybe Mia and Noah had found their peace. But mine?
Mine had walked away without a word.Yesterday, I dreamed of him.
I was asleep, the room cloaked in darkness except for the soft glow of my headlamp beside the bed. Everything was still, until I felt the mattress dip, the way it does when someone heavy lies down next to you.
Then came the kiss.
Soft. Gentle. Laced with the faint, familiar scent of vanilla.
It felt too real. So real that even now, I can't tell where the dream ended and reality began. My heart won't stop questioning it.
Suddenly, the mark on my neck throbbed sharply, pulsing with pain that dragged me back to the present. I gasped and stumbled, one hand flying to the wall for balance as the sensation burned through me, alive, almost aware.
My coffee slipped from my hand and hit the pavement, splattering across my shoes. My breathing turned shallow and uneven as my vision blurred with tears I hadn't realized were falling.
Someone rushed over, a passerby, his face etched with genuine concern.
"Hey, are you okay?"
he asked softly, reaching out to steady me. The moment his fingers brushed the air near my arm, I flinched and smacked his hand away. The contact felt wrong, too light, too empty.
I didn't want kindness. I didn't want comfort.
I wanted him.
Only his touch. The one my body seemed to remember even when my mind screamed that he was gone. The man stepped back, startled, murmuring something I couldn't hear over the rush of blood pounding in my ears. The mark on my neck pulsed again, harder this time, like a heartbeat that wasn't mine.
I pressed my palm against it, trembling.
"No… no, not again,"
I whispered, but the throbbing only deepened, spreading warmth through my chest and down my spine. It felt alive, tugging me forward, urging me toward something I couldn't see.
The city around me blurred, sounds dulling into a low hum. My knees wobbled, and I leaned against the nearest wall, trying to breathe through the ache.
It wasn't just pain, it was connection.
Every pulse of that mark carried his presence, faint but undeniable. It was like he was calling out, not with words, but with instinct.
And for the first time since he left, I felt him.
Somewhere out there, awake, alive, reaching for me.
I closed my eyes, letting the mark's rhythm guide my heartbeat until they were one and the same.
My hands fumbled through my bag, shaking so hard I nearly dropped it. I finally found my phone and unlocked it with trembling fingers. The screen's light stabbed through my tear-blurred vision.
I opened my emergency contacts, and there it was, his name. Knox.
Simple, bold letters. Unmistakable. Unavoidable.
For a long moment, I just stared at it, my thumb hovering over the call button. My pulse thundered in my ears. What if he didn't answer? What if he did?
My breath hitched as I tried to press it, but my fingers wouldn't obey. It felt like my body was trapped between fear and longing, like pressing that button would make everything real again.
Still, the mark burned hotter with each passing second, urging me, call him.
I swallowed hard, tears slipping down my cheeks.
"Please,"
I whispered, to him, to the mark, to whatever force still tethered us.
Then, with a trembling exhale, I pressed the call button.The phone rang once, twice… my chest tightening with every tone. My fingers gripped the device like a lifeline.
Then, his voice. Low, deep, unmistakable. "Bella?"
It was him. Alive. Real. Every nerve in my body screamed relief and longing all at once.
"I… I feel it,"
I choked out, my voice breaking.
"The mark… it is throbbing. I—"
There was a pause, and I could almost hear him breathing on the other end, slow and steady.
"I know," he said finally. "I'll be there soon."
The throbbing on my neck intensified suddenly, sharp and urgent, almost unbearable. Not a mystical connection, no. It was craving him. My body ached for his pheromones, the scent that anchored me, the one that only he could release. I pressed my palm against the mark, wincing at the sharp pulse, trembling as it demanded him.
"I need you," I whispered, almost embarrassed by the rawness of it. "Please… hurry."
"I'm coming,"
he said, his voice low and commanding, and something in it promised that relief was on the way.
The mark pulsed again, impatient, insistent, and I could feel every fiber of me tightening, desperate for him to arrive.
I barely had time to set the phone down before I heard the soft crunch of footsteps on the pavement. My heart stuttered.
Then he was there. Knox. Dark coat brushing the streetlight, eyes scanning me with that unreadable, predatory intensity. The moment his gaze landed, the throbbing at my neck spiked sharply. My body shivered, craving the pheromones that only he carried, sharp, intoxicating, utterly him.
He stopped a mere foot away, and the air between us seemed to thrum with his presence. My knees went weak, my breaths shallow, as if each inhale wasn't enough.
"Bella,"
he murmured, his voice low, rough, and filled with that magnetic weight that made everything else vanish. He stepped closer, and the scent, his scent, washed over me, hot and commanding. It was like black chains wrapping around my body, binding me to him for eternity. Every pulse of the mark flared in sync with his presence, dragging me closer, leaving me no room to think, no space to resist. The mark pulsed violently, almost painful now, screaming for him.
I didn't care who was watching. I reached out, trembling, desperate, letting my fingers brush the edge of his coat. He didn't flinch. He didn't stop.
Instead, he lowered his face, and when his lips brushed mine, it wasn't gentle. Not soft. Not tentative.
It was a claiming, a release of everything my body had been aching for. The throbbing mark responded instantly, flaring with heat that spread through my chest, down to my stomach, making me lean into him despite the dizziness.
His hand found my cheek, steadying me, and yet the pull didn't ease. The mark demanded more, his pheromones, his presence, his complete attention. I gasped against him, every nerve alive, every instinct screaming that this was exactly what I needed.
"You've been… hurting," he murmured against my lips, and I shivered. "I'll fix it."
I didn't say anything. I couldn't. I just let him hold me, let him breathe over me, let him fill the ache that had been building since the mark had first pulsed in warning.
The city faded around us. Nothing existed except him, me, and the heat between us, the raw, physical proof of the mark's demand finally satisfied.