Kissed By The Curse

That night, every sound in the forest made me flinch. Every snap of a twig, every rustle of leaves. I sat with my back pressed against the tree, knees drawn to my chest, listening.

The howls had stopped hours ago, but I knew better than to relax.

Rogues didn't give up that easily.

By the time the sun rose, I was exhausted. My body ached from sitting in one position too long, and the bond was a constant, throbbing pain in my chest that I couldn't ignore.

But I was alive.

That had to count for something.

I forced myself to stand, wincing as my stiff muscles protested. My bag felt heavier than it should have, even though there was barely anything in it. I pulled out a piece of dried meat and chewed it slowly, trying to make it last.

I had no idea how long my supplies would hold out. A few days, maybe. A week if I was careful.

After that, I would have to figure something else out.

I started walking.

I didn't have a destination. Didn't have a plan. I just knew I needed to put distance between myself and the pack lands. Between myself and him.

The forest was thick and unfamiliar. I had never been this far from Burrowtown before. The trees here were older and taller, their branches tangled overhead like a canopy that blocked out most of the sunlight. The air smelled damp, like rain and earth and something faintly metallic I couldn't place.

My wolf was still silent.

I tried reaching for her a few times, calling out in my mind, but she didn't respond. It was like she had retreated so far inside me that I couldn't find her anymore.

Maybe she was ashamed.

Or maybe she was just tired of fighting.

I walked until my legs burned and my feet blistered inside my worn boots. When I finally stopped, the sun was high overhead, though I could barely see it through the trees.

I sat down on a fallen log and pulled out my water canteen. It was half empty already. I took a small sip, just enough to wet my throat, and forced myself to stop.

Water would be a problem soon.

Everything would be a problem soon.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, and tried to think.

I couldn't go back. That much was clear. Even if I wanted to, the pack would never take me in again. I was banished. Cursed. A mistake they wanted to forget.

But where else could I go?

There were other packs, but they wouldn't accept a lone omega with no resources and no connections. Especially not one who had been rejected by an Alpha King. Word would spread fast. It probably already had.

I could try to make it to a human city, but I had no money, no identification, and no way to survive in their world.

That left the wildlands. The spaces between pack territories where rogues roamed and laws didn't apply.

I shuddered.

I had heard the stories. Wolves who ventured into the wildlands alone rarely came back. And when they did, they were never the same.

But what choice did I have?

A sharp pain lanced through my chest, and I gasped, doubling over.

The bond.

It pulsed, hot and vicious, like a knife twisting between my ribs. My vision blurred, and for a moment, I felt him.

Jasper.

Not his thoughts. Not his words. But his presence. His pain.

He was suffering too.

The realization should have made me feel better. Should have felt like justice.

But it didn't.

It just made everything worse.

Because no matter how much he hurt, it would never undo what he had done. It would never take back the words he had said in front of everyone. It would never erase the way he had looked at me like I was nothing.

The pain faded slowly, leaving me shaking and breathless.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead and forced myself to stand.

I couldn't afford to break down. Not here. Not now.

I kept walking.

By late afternoon, I found a stream.

The water was cold and clear, running over smooth stones that glittered in the faint sunlight. I knelt beside it and drank deeply, not caring if it was safe. I was too thirsty to care.

When I had my fill, I splashed water on my face and neck, washing away the dirt and sweat. It didn't make me feel better, but it helped.

I sat back on my heels and stared at my reflection in the water.

I looked terrible.

My face was pale and gaunt, with dark circles under my eyes. My hair was a tangled mess, and there was a bruise on my cheek I didn't remember getting. I looked exactly like what I was.

Broken.

I turned away from the water and pulled out my blanket, spreading it on the ground near the stream. It wasn't much, but it would have to do.

I lay down and stared up at the trees.

The bond throbbed again, softer this time. A dull ache instead of a sharp pain.

I closed my eyes and tried to ignore it.

Sleep didn't come easily.

When it finally did, it was restless and full of dreams I didn't want.

I woke to the sound of footsteps.

My eyes snapped open, and I froze.

Someone was nearby.

I stayed perfectly still, barely breathing, straining to hear.

The footsteps were slow. Deliberate. Like whoever it was wasn't trying to hide.

My heart hammered in my chest.

A figure stepped into view.

It was a man. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair and clothes that looked like they had seen better days. He moved with the easy confidence of someone who knew how to handle himself.

A rogue.

He stopped a few feet away and looked down at me.

"You are a long way from home," he said. His voice was low and rough, but not unkind.

I scrambled to my feet, putting distance between us. "Stay back."

He raised his hands slowly, a gesture of peace. "Relax. I am not here to hurt you."

"That is what they all say."

He tilted his head, studying me. "You are alone out here. No pack scent. No supplies worth stealing. You are either very brave or very stupid."

"Neither," I said flatly. "Just desperate."

Something flickered in his eyes. Understanding, maybe.

"What happened?" he asked.

"None of your business."

He didn't push. Just stood there, watching me like he was trying to figure something out.

"There are rogues in this area," he said finally. "Dangerous ones. If they find you, they will not be as polite as I am."

"I know."

"Then you should leave."

"And go where?" I snapped. "I have nowhere to go."

He was quiet for a moment.

"There is a place," he said slowly. "About a day's walk from here. Neutral ground. It is not much, but it is safer than this."

I stared at him, suspicious. "Why would you help me?"

He shrugged. "Why not?"

"That is not an answer."

"It is the only one you are going to get."

I didn't trust him. I didn't trust anyone anymore.

But I also didn't have a choice.

"Fine," I said. "Show me."

He nodded and started walking.

I grabbed my bag and followed, keeping a careful distance between us.

We walked in silence for a long time. The sun began to set, casting long shadows through the trees. My feet ached, and the bond pulsed with every step, but I didn't complain.

Finally, he stopped.

"We will camp here tonight," he said. "It is too dangerous to travel in the dark."

I didn't argue.

He built a small fire while I sat on the opposite side, watching him warily.

"What is your name?" he asked once the fire was going.

I hesitated. "Quinn."

"Quinn," he repeated, like he was testing it out. "I am Lucien."

I didn't respond.

He pulled out a piece of bread from his pack and tossed it to me. I caught it, surprised.

"Eat," he said. "You look like you are about to collapse."

I wanted to refuse. Wanted to tell him I didn't need his help.

But I was starving.

I ate the bread slowly, savoring every bite.

Lucien watched the fire, his expression unreadable.

"You were rejected," he said quietly.

I stiffened. "How did you-"

"I can feel it. The bond. It is still there, is it not? Twisted and wrong."

I didn't answer.

He looked at me then, and there was something in his eyes I couldn't name. Sympathy, maybe. Or recognition.

"You are not the first," he said. "And you will not be the last."

"That is supposed to make me feel better?"

"No. Just letting you know you are not alone."

I laughed bitterly. "I am alone. That is the whole problem."

He didn't argue.

We sat in silence after that, the fire crackling softly between us.

And for the first time since the rejection, I felt something other than pain.

Not hope.

But maybe something close to it.