ANNALISE
The knock was at midnight exactly.
I was up already, working on some charts on my laptop with a stale cup of tea by my side. My flat was quiet, apart from the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional late-night car horn outside. When the knock came again—three jarring taps, hard, persistent—I hesitated.
I didn't expect anyone. I never did.
I approached the door, bare feet and an oversized sweatshirt, already making plans in my head. Landlord? Emergency? A patient?
I looked through the peephole and hesitated.
No one was inside.
I frowned. Opened it slowly.
Nothing.
But I looked down.
A small, velvet-covered box was neatly on the welcome mat. No card. No note. The box by itself.
I picked it up, carefully, and closed the door.
Inside was a necklace—blue sapphire in the center, silver crescent moon. My breathing stopped. It was beautiful. Too beautiful.
And it tasted. familiar.
I shushed it away, scowling, and back to tea again, but my mind would not rest. I kept glancing at the box as if it would whisper to me. As if it would tell me something. As if it would speak to me why it sent the shivers running down my spine.
The flowers had been one thing. I'd thought maybe they were from a grateful patient, or a mistake. But this?
No one knew me like that.
Except… him.
The Wolf King.
Carl Draco.
I had touched him. Seen him vulnerable, seen his strength coiled just beneath his skin. My hands had trembled afterward, but not from fear.
From recognition.
From something deeper. Something primal.
But he couldn't have done this. He was far away in his kingdom, probably with warriors and councils around him. He would not bother to waste time on me.
Right?
I tried to sleep. I didn't. The necklace remained on my nightstand, catching moonlight, taunting me.
A week passed.
Then two.
The flowers reappeared. Always lilies. Always perfect.
No messages.
I never mentioned anything to anybody. It was too fragile to tell. Too intimate.
Until one night, when I was leaving the hospital after a long double shift, I felt him.
Not saw.
Not heard.
Felt.
Like a weight in my chest. Like a shadow moving inside my heartbeat. A cruel chill runs down my spine, my unsteady heartbeat intensifies because I could feel the danger lurking behind.
I turned sharply, glancing down the street, the cars passing by, the people.
Nothing. I looked around, turned around aimlessly searching through the faces of the people around to identify the threat yet I find nothing.
But my wolf awakened. For the first time in years. My senses are heightened, I feel every vibration, movement and energy.
She didn't say anything.
But she… purred.
And that frightened me more than anything else.
I ran home, locked the door, and didn't sleep.
I wore the necklace the next morning.
I told myself it would be to prove I wasn't afraid.
But I believe, secretly, it was because a piece of me was already his.
Long before I realized it.
Long before I confessed it.
And even to myself.
The knock came at midnight to the minute.
I was up already, looking over some charts on my laptop with a cup of lukewarm tea by my side. My apartment was quiet, except for the buzzing of the fridge and the intermittent honk of the late-night traffic far below. When the second knock occurred—three raps, insistent, firm—I didn't know what to do.
I wasn't waiting for anyone. I never was.I made sure no one got close enough to build a rapport.
I moved slowly to the door, in my bare feet and loose sweatshirt, my head already reeling with what-ifs. Landlord? Emergency? Patient?
A glance through the peephole brought me up short.
No one was there.
I frowned. Opened it slowly.
Nothing.
But I looked down then.
A small, velvet-covered box lay exactly on the welcome mat. No note. No card. Just the box.
I picked it up, gingerly, and shut the door.
Inside was a necklace—crescent moon in silver, blue sapphire set in its center. My breathing caught. It was beautiful. Too beautiful.
And it tasted. familiar.
I put it aside, bothered, and returned to tea, but I could not quit. I just looked at the box as though it would somehow communicate with me. As though it would let me know why my skin did funny things with it.
The flowers had been one thing. I'd thought maybe they were from a grateful patient, or a mistake. But this?
No one knew me like that.
Except… him.
The Wolf King.
Carl Draco.
I had touched him. Seen him vulnerable, seen his strength coiled just beneath his skin. My hands had trembled afterward, but not from fear.
From recognition.
From something deeper. Something primal.
But he couldn't be behind this. He was in his kingdom, probably surrounded by warriors and councils. He wouldn't waste time on me.
Right?
I tried to sleep. I didn't. The necklace on my nightstand caught moonbeams, mocked me.
A week passed.
Then two.
The flowers returned. Always lilies. Always immaculate.
No messages.
I never mentioned it to anyone. It felt too fragile to share. Too intimate.
Until that night, as I was leaving the hospital after a long double shift, I felt him.
Not saw. Not heard.
Felt.
Like a weight upon my chest. Like a shadow moving into my heart's beat.
I whirled around, scanning down the street, the cars driving by, the pedestrians.
Nothing.
But my wolf stirred to life. For the first time in years.
She didn't speak.
But she… rumbled.
And that frightened me more than anything else.
I walked quickly home, locked the door, and didn't sleep.
Suddenly I hear hurried footsteps, immediately I spring up, looking for something, anything to defend myself before two unknown men move in on me; how did they get past my security? The safety measures? As I ponder, they suddenly move to attack me but before they could get close enough, I see a sudden blur and they were both death. I widen my eyes in shock as I come face to face with Carl Draco, I wobble and I hear my wolf mutter "Mate" before everything goes black.