Miranda's POV
Something burned against the back of my hand.
It wasn't fire but something sharp and alive.
I tried to move, but the weight of my own body felt foreign. My throat ached. My limbs were lead. I peeled my eyes open—barely—and caught the blur of two silhouettes locked in a staring match.
The larger one stood like a loaded weapon, broad-shouldered and radiating fury. The other one leaned back with a cocky smirk, all lazy confidence and expensive leather.
Colton. And... someone else.
I closed my eyes again.
My head throbbed, my body hummed with confusion, and the last thing I remembered was cold tile under my knees. A burning fever. The world kept spinning. Then arms—strong ones—lifting me like I was made of glass.
He carried me.
Why? He didn't have to.
My eyes opened again, watching the quiet clinic room. Soft light spilled through the blinds making everything so peaceful. The air smelled like disinfectant and something warmer—like cedarwood and danger.
An IV drip hung beside me, the line disappearing into my arm. A thick blanket covered my legs.
I changed my cloth into a soft long cotton tee shirt that covered a little down my butt. I tucked into the bed like a child.
No one was in the room. But someone had been.
Someone sat in that chair beside the bed. I could feel it. The dent in the cushion, the faint scent lingering in the air. Colton.
Why?
I didn't have time to think about the impossible and I stiffened as the door slowly opened.
"Oh thank god," came a familiar whisper. I was happy to see her. She felt the same too with her big, bright, smiley face. "You're awake."
"Barely," I rasped.
She crossed the room in a flash and poured water from a jug, lifting it to my lips. I drank, the coolness shocking down my throat.
"What... happened?" I managed.
She grimaced. "You fainted in the main hall. Right in front of Alpha Colton. Scared the crap out of everyone. He carried you straight here. Didn't let anyone else touch you."
I blinked.
"Wait. Colton?"
She nodded, then whispered. I didn't like that but my ears caught her words loud and clear. "The Alpha gave orders for you to have a private room and proper care."
Next, came her squeal. "Do you know how rare it is for the alpha to do that? You're so lucky."
I swallowed hard. No, I didn't know. Because things like that didn't happen to people like me.
Emily smiled and laid a bundle of clothes on the chair. "Here. He also ordered these. Said you needed to look more... presentable. His exact words."
I stared like a fool. The clothes were comfortable and fancy. Well, some were. I chose the easiest one.
A black top and yoga pants with a cozy zip-up hoodie.
Emily stood, smoothing the bedsheets. "I think he might actually care, Miranda. Just a little."
"Or he's just being territorial."
Her eyes glinted. "Same thing with Alphas."
~
By afternoon, I was moved into a new room inside the packhouse's main wing. It was bright and cozy, without a window that overlooked the woods.
It felt... almost safe.
The knock on the door came at sundown. Sharp. No-nonsense. And entirely expected.
He didn't wait for me to answer.
Colton walked in like he owned the walls—and maybe he did. His eyes scanned the room before landing on me.
"Comfortable?" he asked flatly.
I sat straighter. "I've had worse."
He said nothing. Just walked the perimeter like a man inspecting his territory. Every move of his body was calm, deliberate, and military.
When he reached the bed, I tensed.
He leaned down and his hand reached out—slow, precise—and fixed the collar of my hoodie.
His fingers grazed my neck. I sucked in a sharp breath as the spark lit up my skin.
Colton's eyes locked with mine. He didn't move away immediately.
"Your shirt was inside out," he murmured. "Try to look less...disheveled."
He let go and turned his back.
My heart did crazy cartwheels.
"You didn't have to bring me here," I said quietly. "To this room. Or sit with me."
He stopped mid-step. "I didn't."
I blinked. "Then who—?"
He turned slowly. "Don't read into anything. You're still a servant. This is only for observation. Nothing more."
God, he was infuriating.
"You're right. Wouldn't want to think my owner was growing a conscience."
That made him freeze.
He stalked closer until he was standing right in front of me, eyes shadowed. "Watch your mouth."
"Or what?"
His gaze dropped to my lips.
Heat pulsed between us.
I wasn't sure who moved first, but the air changed. My breath hitched. He didn't touch me—barely—but I could feel the electricity crackling off his skin.
Colton exhaled sharply and stepped back like I burned him.
"Don't test me, Miranda."
"Why not?" I reasoned.
"I'm not scared of you," I murmured.
"Hmm," his deep growl came.
He smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You should be."
And with that, he left.
~
I couldn't sleep that night. Even when my body felt better, my mind was a total mess.
Every time I closed my eyes, his touch would return to my mind and I shuddered.
I wanted him to touch me somewhere else. Everything about him was sexy. I was turned on barely by his voice ordering a room. Fixing my collar. Calling me his...
No. That couldn't be.
The mate bond was a myth. A fairytale. I had no wolf. He couldn't feel that.
Could he?
I tossed and turned, blankets twisted around me.
A sudden knock made me sit up. Two short raps.
I opened the door and found Colton standing there in black joggers and a sleeveless hoodie, arms crossed, eyes darker than night.
"You're still awake."
I answered with enough disgust. "You knocked."
"I need to use the room next door. It's connected through the bathroom. Don't touch anything."
My brows lifted. "Wait. You're staying next door?"
He didn't answer. Just walked past me like I was a ghost.
I turned to follow him and then stopped when I realized something else.
There was only one shared bathroom. It was large and could fit eleven people in. It had one sink, shower and a huge ass mirror.
Just my damn luck.
We were going to be in close quarters.
~
The first night, nothing happened. Just the sound of him moving around. The occasional clink of glass. The heavy silence between us.
The second night, I bumped into him in the bathroom. Literally.
I turned the corner in a towel, still damp from the shower—and slammed into a bare chest.
Gosh. My mind hissed. How can he be so hard, warm and very male?
He held my arm to steady me and the second our skin touched, I felt the spark shoot through my veins.
He let go quite faster than I expected. Why couldn't he hold me a bit longer?
We stared at each other.
His eyes flicked downward and back up. "You should watch where you're going."
"You should knock."
"It's shared. Get used to it."
I wanted to slap that smug look off his stupidly perfect face.
I grabbed my things and stormed out on him.
But when I went to bed, I could only think of the way he looked at me.
Like he wanted to devour me.
~
By the fifth day, I was losing my mind.
We kept running into each other. Brushing past. Heated glances. Little touches that didn't need to happen—but happened anyway.
He never apologized. Never lingered. But his eyes did. And the tension? It was unbearable.
Like a rope pulled too tight, ready to snap.
Until it did.
~
It was late.
I'd gone into the bathroom to get something. He came in, shirtless, dripping with sweat from a run.
I froze.
So did he.
Our eyes locked in the mirror.
I turned to leave.
He grabbed my wrist. Not hard. But firm.
"Why do you keep running?" He said, moving closer to me.
"Why do you keep chasing?" I asked. My mouth was faster than my brains and I cursed myself internally for letting the words out.
His jaw ticked. "Because something about you drives me insane."
What? I drove him insane? How? What did I do?
I felt his warm hand move down my wrist. Forcing my breathing to remain calm was hard as his fingers brushed mine.
My heart leaped when he leaned in. I quivered as his hot breath touched my neck, and he whispered.
"You're mine. And I hate it."
Then he let go and walked away.
Leaving me breathless.
And shaking.
And very, very aware...that this might just be the beginning of my new problems.