Chapter 4
Melissa chewed slowly, eyes fixed on the two of them like she was dissecting a puzzle she hadn't asked for. Every scrape of her fork against the plate made Rory twitch.
Finally, Melissa set her fork down, folded her arms, and said flatly, "Start talking."
Rory shifted in her seat, guilt crawling under her skin. Hope sat straighter, like she was ready to take the heat herself, but Rory knew Melissa wasn't going to let either of them off the hook.
"Mom..." Rory started, then grimaced. "I literally just met her."
Melissa's brows shot up. "Excuse me?"
"In the preserve," Rory said quickly, tripping over her own words. "I was out there clearing my head and... she was just... there."
Melissa leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "And then?"
Rory groaned, scrubbing her hand over her face. "And then we... um."
Melissa's tone was flat as a blade. "You um?"
Rory dropped her head into her hands. "We did it. There. Against a tree."
Hope coughed hard into her juice, nearly spilling it.
Melissa blinked. Once. Twice. "Against a tree."
Rory peeked out from between her fingers, cheeks burning. "Yeah. And then I... brought her back here. And we... did it more."
Melissa sat back slowly, silent for a long moment. Her gaze shifted between them, sharp as a scalpel. "So let me get this straight. You met a stranger in the woods. Slept with her immediately. Brought her home. Slept with her again. And now you're telling me she's your soulmate."
Rory cringed. "...Yes?"
Hope opened her mouth, then shut it again, wisely staying silent.
Melissa exhaled through her nose, pinching the bridge of it like she was fighting off a migraine. "God, Rory. Do you have any idea how reckless that is? After everything with Scott, after Allison—"
Rory flinched at the name.
Melissa's tone shifted, softer but edged with disappointment. "And don't think I don't know about the others. The random girls you snuck around with. One-night stands don't fix broken hearts, Rory. They make the hole bigger."
Rory's cheeks burned, shame twisting in her gut.
Across from her, Hope's head snapped around so fast the air stirred. Her blue eyes locked on Rory, sharp and searing, pupils blown wide with something dark. Her jaw flexed, knuckles whitening around her fork.
Rory swallowed hard, heat flooding her chest. Hope's gaze said everything—whoever touched you before doesn't matter. You're mine now. Mine.
Rory dragged in a shaky breath, forcing the words out. "I know it's weird. I don't understand it either. But I feel... whole. For the first time in ages." Her voice cracked, raw and vulnerable. "Mom, I've been so empty since—since Allison. Since Scott. Nothing made it better. Not the girls, not the fights, not anything. But last night..." she trailed off, shaking her head. "For once, it wasn't hollow. For once, I wasn't starving inside."
Melissa's expression softened, but only a fraction.
Rory's hands clenched in her lap, nails biting into her palms. "And meanwhile? Scott's still hooking up with Allison. He flaunts it in my face at school like he won. Like I'm supposed to... accept it. None of the pack will talk to either of them. They're already out. But I still have to see them. Every damn day."
Her throat tightened, anger and grief tangling in her chest. "And then she shows up"—Rory gestured helplessly toward Hope—" and it's like... I can breathe again. Like something in me finally shut up."
Melissa stared at her daughter, lips pressed tight, heart torn between fury, sympathy, and protective instinct.
Hope sat perfectly still, every side of her—the wolf, the witch, the vampire—straining forward at once, desperate to shield Rory from every jagged shard of the past she'd just confessed.
Melissa's gaze flicked to her. "And you? You just happened to be in the preserve at the exact right moment?"
Hope didn't flinch. Her voice came low, steady. "Not exactly. I was there with someone from my school. We were looking for a witch, not a wolf." Her eyes lingered on Rory, piercing. "But then I felt her. Couldn't walk away."
Rory's stomach twisted, heat crawling over her skin. "Felt me?"
Hope's gaze softened, like she was letting her guard down inch by inch. "Every part of me—the wolf, the witch, the vampire—it all pulled toward you. Like you were mine before I even knew your name."
Rory's breath caught, her chest tight.
Melissa folded her arms, skeptical. "That's very poetic. Doesn't explain why my daughter looks like she's about to crawl out of her own skin half the time."
Hope's jaw flexed. She glanced at Rory again, then back to Melissa. "Because she's not just a wolf."
Rory froze. Her stomach dropped, heat flooding her face. That was her secret, the one she'd buried under silence and denial. She'd felt it clawing at her for months—the gnawing hunger, the way hookups left her emptier, the way Allison had been the only one who quieted it—but she'd never dared to say it out loud. Not even to Melissa.
Her nails dug into her palms under the table. "You—" Her voice cracked. "You don't know what you're talking about."
Hope's gaze didn't waver, steady and knowing. "Don't I?"
Melissa's eyes snapped to Rory, sharp. "Rory. What is she talking about?"
Rory shook her head fast, heart pounding. "I don't know. I don't—" She broke off, swallowing hard, hating the tremor in her voice.
Hope's eyes softened, but her words were still firm. "I don't know exactly what it is yet. But I've seen hints of it in old records. Wolves don't carry hunger like this. They don't glow like she does. Whatever it is, it's real. And I'm not letting her face it alone."
Melissa's protective glare softened a fraction, though her shoulders stayed tense. "You'd better be right, because if you're wrong—"
Hope cut her off without blinking. "I'm not."
The air in the kitchen crackled, charged, as Rory sat between the two most unshakable people in her life, both of them fighting in their own ways—for her.
Melissa didn't let the silence linger. "Rory," she said, voice low but commanding. "What has been going on with you? Because I can see it in your face—you've known something's wrong. Long before this girl showed up."
Rory stared down at her plate, her fork clutched tight in her hand. Her chest ached, like her ribs were closing in.
"Talk to me."
The words ripped out of her before she could stop them. "It started even before Allison. I thought... I thought it was just stress, or grief, or the wolf in me being restless, but it wasn't. There's this... hunger. Like something gnawing at me from the inside. Constant. And the only time it ever stopped was with her." Her throat tightened, the following words clawing their way out. "With Allison."
Melissa's eyes softened but stayed sharp. "And after you broke up with her?"
Rory's hand shook. "It got worse. I tried to bury it. To ignore it. But every time I—" she cut herself off, cheeks burning, shame hot in her voice. "Every time I tried to feed it with someone else, it felt wrong. Dangerous. Like if I gave in, I'd hurt them. Maybe even kill them."
Hope's fork clattered softly against her plate as she set it down. Her blue eyes never left Rory. "That's why you kept pushing everyone away. Why the hookups never worked."
Rory's jaw tightened. She nodded once, sharp. "Yeah. Because whatever's inside me... it doesn't want them."
Melissa pressed her hand flat to the table. "And you didn't think to tell me this before?"
Rory laughed bitterly. "What was I supposed to say? 'Hey Mom, there's a monster inside me that wants to eat every girl I touch'?" She shook her head, voice raw. "Not just girls. Guys too. Anyone. Everyone. It doesn't care. It just wants." Her fists clenched tight on the table. "You'd have locked me up."
Her voice cracked on the last word, and her mind yanked her back—
—dark sheets, sweat, the reek of cheap perfume and alcohol. A girl she didn't even remember the name of, panting under her, nails scraping Rory's back. Rory had gone through the motions: kissing her back, letting her grind down against her thigh, pressing her mouth to her neck like she meant it.
And then something in her had slipped.
The hunger surged, molten and alive, and Rory felt her eyes burn, vision tinting luminous blue. Her lips crushed against the girl's, desperate, and suddenly she wasn't just kissing—she was pulling.
The girl gasped into her mouth, and Rory saw it—an impossible glow spilling from between her lips. A bright, light-blue vapor, like mist or raw fire, poured into Rory with every breath.
It hit her veins like lightning, euphoric, endless. She'd never felt so alive, so sated. The hollow ache went silent, finally quiet, finally full.
But the girl beneath her went slack, her moans turning ragged, her hands clawing weakly as her body trembled. Rory's lips were still locked to hers, still drawing, still feeding.
With a sob, Rory tore herself back, her chest heaving, panic slicing through the ecstasy. The girl collapsed against the pillow, eyes glassy, murmuring weakly about how good it felt, how she'd never felt anything like it.
Rory had stumbled away shaking, her heart pounding like she'd just committed murder.
She'd bolted from the apartment, but hours later, she could still taste it, the blue fire humming on her tongue. And in the mirror, she'd seen it—the faint glow in her eyes, that same impossible blue, pulsing back at her.
Her chair scraped as she shifted, dragging herself back to the present, shame coiling like barbed wire in her chest.
Melissa's lips parted, guilt flickering across her face, but Hope cut in before she could answer.
"When did it start?" Hope asked quietly.
Rory looked at her, her chest twisting. "Around the time I turned. When I got the wolf bite, but it wasn't just the wolf. I can tell. It's something else."
Melissa leaned forward, voice tight. "And Allison—she made it stop?"
Rory shut her eyes, pain slicing through her chest. "Yeah. She was the only one who did. I don't know why. With her, it was quiet. Like it was... satisfied."
Hope's voice was low, careful, but it burned with intensity. "And now?"
Rory's eyes snapped open, luminous blue flickering faintly before she smothered them down. She swallowed hard, throat raw. "Now it's quiet again." She blinked, realizing even as she said it. "I don't even notice it now. With Allison, it was always there—lurking, restless, under wraps but never gone. With you..." her voice cracked, almost a whisper, "it's gone. Completely sated."
The table went still.
Melissa and Hope both looked at her, with different kinds of sharpness in their gazes. Rory felt her skin crawling under it, her secrets exposed, every nerve raw.
She shoved back her chair, the legs screeching against the floor. "I can't—" Her breath hitched. "I can't do this right now."
"Rory—" Melissa started.
But Rory was already moving, storming out of the kitchen, her boots thudding down the hall. Her vision blurred, her chest heaving as if the walls were closing in. She didn't look back.
Hope half-rose from her chair, instinct blazing, but Melissa's hand snapped out, pressing her shoulder down. "Give her space," Melissa warned, though her own voice shook.
Hope's jaw flexed, but her eyes stayed locked on the doorway where Rory had vanished, every muscle in her body screaming to follow.
---
The cold morning air hit Rory like a slap as she shoved open the front door. She gulped it down, desperate, hands braced on her knees as she bent forward, trying to steady her breathing.
Her chest was tight, her vision pricked with spots, and the memory of that girl's slack face—lips glowing blue under hers—flashed again, harder. She gagged, forcing it down.
She didn't hear the door close softly behind her, but she felt it. That pulse of heat, the weight of a presence that made her wolf quiet, made that other gnawing hunger purr.
Hope.
Rory squeezed her eyes shut. "Don't," she rasped. "Don't follow me."
The crunch of boots on the porch. Then silence, as if Hope were giving her the illusion of space, even though she stood just feet away.
A shrill buzz shattered it. Hope cursed softly, yanking her phone from her pocket.
Alaric's name glared across the screen.
Rory half-turned, watching her through strands of wild dark hair.
Hope thumbed the call on. "Yeah?" Her voice was clipped, almost military.
"Hope." Alaric's tone was sharp, tired. "It's been all night. You said you found a wolf. Great. But we still need to pick up the young witch. You were supposed to check in again."
Hope's jaw worked. Her eyes flicked once to Rory, then back out into the yard. "I know. Things... took longer than I expected."
Alaric's voice dropped, suspicion clear. "What aren't you telling me?"
Hope's throat bobbed. Her hand tightened on the phone. "I'll explain later. Just trust me. I need time."
There was silence on the other end, long enough that Rory could hear Alaric's exhale. Finally: "Don't take too long. The girl and her family are expecting us."
Hope ended the call before he could press more, sliding the phone into her pocket.
The silence that followed was thick, but not empty.
Rory licked her lips, nerves coiling tight. "You never even told me your last name," she said, her voice low, raw.
Hope blinked at her, and for the first time since the woods, her mouth tugged at a wry smile. "Mikaelson. Hope Mikaelson."
Rory's throat worked. She should lie. She should put her walls back up. But something in Hope's eyes made her chest loosen. "Rory Hale." She hesitated, then added, "McCall only on paper. Melissa raised me after the fire. But I'm Hale by blood."
Hope froze.
Her brows lifted, blue eyes widening as if the name itself struck like lightning. "Hale. As in... Talia Hale?"
Rory gave a sharp nod, chin tilting defiantly. "She was my mother. Derek's my brother. Cora's my twin. I'm the youngest."
Hope's lips parted, a low breath spilling out. Talia Hale's daughter. The full-blooded Hale line. A wolf with Alpha-red eyes, trueborn, not stolen. A survivor of the fire.
"Rory Hale," Hope repeated, tasting it like it meant something more.
Their gazes locked. The tether between them hummed, fierce and unyielding.
And then Rory's voice dropped lower, darker. "I'm not just a Hale wolf. I'm a True Alpha."
Hope blinked. "Impossible."
Rory's jaw flexed, eyes flaring red—no, brighter, fiercer, an Alpha glow that burned with authority. It wasn't Scott's stolen flicker. This was hers. Earned. Risen without bloodshed.
Hope's breath hitched, every part of her—the wolf, the witch, the vampire—leaning forward at once, hungry, reverent. Her instincts howled mine, mine, mine.
"Stop looking at me like that," Rory snapped, though her voice shook. "I don't even know you."
Hope stepped closer, gaze locked on her, voice fierce but breaking at the edges. "You do. You feel it just like I do. We belong together, Rory. I don't know how, I don't know why, but I can feel it in my blood, in every part of me. And so can you."
Rory's lips parted, ready to deny it—but the words stuck. Her pulse thundered. Because Hope was right, that tether between them wasn't something she could sever, no matter how she tried.
Hope's voice dropped, almost pleading. "Stop fighting it."
Rory opened her mouth, desperate to say something sharp, to put the walls back up. But she never got the chance.
Hope closed the distance in a single step, one hand fisting in Rory's shirt, and crushed their mouths together. The kiss wasn't gentle—it was fire, demand, desperation poured into skin and breath. Rory shoved weakly at her shoulders, her wolf snarling at being cornered, but the push lacked teeth.
Because the second Hope's lips moved against hers, the fight cracked.
The hunger in her chest stilled. The gnawing ache she'd carried for months melted away. Her hands curled into Hope's jacket, clutching, dragging her closer instead of shoving her back.
Hope growled against her mouth, low and primal, her fangs dragging across Rory's lip where she'd bitten her before. Rory gasped into her, eyes flashing that impossible luminous blue—just as Hope's own eyes blazed bright.
And then it snapped.
The tether between them, born of blood and sex and the marks they'd already carved into each other in Rory's bedroom, yanked taut and sealed. Their souls crashed together with a force that left Rory gasping, clutching, and whimpering against Hope's mouth. She felt it—felt her. Hope's emotions crashing through her like a tide: hunger, protectiveness, possession, fear of losing her. And she knew, instantly, Hope could feel hers too: terror, yearning, exhaustion, desperate relief.
The bites on their necks burned like brands, faintly glowing beneath skin before settling into scars that would never fade. The consummation had already happened that night—this kiss was the lock snapping shut.
The bond was alive now, undeniable.
Rory tore her mouth free just long enough to pant against Hope's lips. "What... what the fuck..."
Hope pressed her forehead to hers, breath ragged. "It's us. It's real. You feel it—I know you do."
And Rory did. She could feel Hope's heart racing like her own, could feel her certainty, her fire, her claim. A part of her screamed to push away, to run. But her soul—her wolf, her other half—had already chosen.
The bond snapped tight. They were tied now, entirely, undeniably. She could feel where Hope was, what she was feeling, a faint thrum like a second heartbeat inside her chest.
It was terrifying. It was perfect.
And beneath it all, clear as her own pulse, Rory could feel one truth that made her breath hitch: Hope would never let her go.
And worse—or maybe better—Rory knew, deep in her bones, that she didn't want to. Because whatever else she was, whatever she'd lost, Hope Mikaelson was her home now.