Chapter 3 A Name in the Dark

Axel stepped closer, his voice lower now. "They told us this would happen. That if we get too close, the pull will take a root. You should've walked away."

"I tried," I whispered. "But I couldn't."

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

"She's human for moon sake Bryson, and you are the Alpha of our park."

"I know."

"She's not one of us and that can be dangerous for the both of you."

"I know."

He stared at me, and his expression finally cracked. Not with anger anymore but pain, and confusion. A strange, foreign ache.

"I saw you with her." he added

I looked up slowly.

"She smiled at you," he said quietly. "Like you were her whole world."

"I didn't ask for that."

"No," he murmured. "But I saw the way you looked back."

Silence bloomed between us. Heavy and laced with all the things we didn't dare say aloud.

"I need to know the truth," I said, walking past him and lighting the edge of the fireplace with a flick of my hand.

Axel turned. "The truth? What truth?"

"Why they fear us. Why we're the monsters in their stories. Why a human girl will hear the name forbidden and thinks of beasts, not men."

"Because we are beasts," he growled. "That's what they made us, what they hunted us for and what they'll never understand."

I shook my head. "Evelyn didn't look at me like that."

"She doesn't know what you are."

I faced him.

"She will."

His eyes flashed. "You're going to tell her?"

"No. Not yet."

"Then what?"

"I'm going to see her again."

His face hardened. "And if she finds out?"

I didn't hesitate.

"Then I hope she still looks at me the same way."

~

Evelyn's POV

I woke up with his name on my lips.

"Bryson."

The dream clung to me like mist-warm skin, eyes like melted gold, a voice that slid into my veins like silk. I couldn't remember the full dream, only flashes: his fingertips brushing my cheek, his breath on my neck, his laugh in my ear like a secret.

But the one thing I remembered clearly was how he made me feel wanted. It was raw and consuming. Like my heart had known him in another life and now screamed to find him again.

And maybe... it wasn't just the dream.

I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling, my chest tightening.

It had only been one night.

Just one.

But something inside me felt different. Like he'd taken part of me with him.

I pressed a hand to my chest and whispered into the stillness, "What did you do to me, Bryson Wilder?"

~

By the time I got to work, I was already late.

My design manager barely raised an eyebrow as I slipped into the open-concept studio with a muttered apology and a coffee in hand. But Claire? She spotted me immediately.

She marched over, heels clicking on the hardwood floor, and stared at me like I'd grown a second head.

"Girl, you look... weird," she said.

"Thanks," I muttered, dropping into my chair.

"No, I mean it. You've got that dazed 'I've-been-touched-by-an-angel-or-a-very-good-kiss' face going on."

I froze mid-sip.

Claire gasped. "Oh my God. You did! You kissed him, didn't you?!"

"No!" I hissed. "Shut up-people are listening!"

"Then what? Why are you glowing like an angel who just got back from a spiritual honeymoon?"

I gave a long, dramatic sigh. "I think I'm in love with a stranger."

Claire blinked. "You-what?"

"I know. I sound insane. But it's true."

"You saw him just once, at the amusement park." she replied

"Exactly," I whispered. "That night... it was different. So magical. And it wasn't just him. It was the air. The way he looked at me. The way he listened." I smiled at the thought.

Claire folded her arms. "So let me get this straight. You're in love with stranger because he bought you popcorn, walk you home and said deep poetic stuff under string lights?"

I gave her a look. "He didn't buy the popcorn. I had it already."

"Oh wow. My bad. That changes everything," she said sarcastically, but there was a smile tugging at her lips.

I looked down at my sketchpad. Somewhere between client logos and layout grids, I'd doodled a pair of eyes-sharp, intense, familiar.

"I know I sound crazy. But Claire... he made me feel loved and seen. Like he knew me before I knew myself."

She was quiet for a moment, then softened. "Okay, dream girl. But what if he is just a dream? A beautiful, possibly emotionally unavailable, fictional man?"

"Then I want to dream again."

She groaned. "Ugh. That's romantic. I hate you." she added

~

When I got home that night, I couldn't stop thinking about the stories my grandmother's whispers. Her warnings.

"Beware of the ones they call the Forbidden."

It always felt like a metaphor. A bedtime scare tactic.

But what if it wasn't?

I pulled out the old storybooks from the bottom drawer of my closet. Dust clung to the faded covers. Most were fables-wolves and girls, shadows and silver, monsters who could love and ruin all at once.

There was one page torn out and tucked inside the back of the book. I remembered hiding it there as a kid, because the drawing freaked me out. It was a rough sketch of a man with golden eyes and a wolf behind him.

The title said: "The Forbidden: Beast in Man's Skin."

My fingers trembled as I traced the ink.

"You think I'm just a human, don't you?" His voice echoed again in my head. "I'm more than what you see."

I swallowed and shut the book.

I didn't believe in monsters.

But I believed in Bryson.

Even if I don't know what he was.

~

The next morning, I walked to the café. I told myself it was for the tea.

But it wasn't.

Every step buzzed with hope and nerves, and I hated how much I scanned the sidewalk, the windows, the door. As if I'd summon him by wishing hard enough.

I ordered my usual and reached for my wallet, but it slipped from my hand. I gasped as the floor rushed up-and then-

Warm hands caught me. It was so strong and familiar.

I looked up.

And there he was.

Bryson.

Right in front of me.

Holding me like I was something precious.

"Careful," he murmured, voice low. "You almost fell."

"I was-" My brain stuttered. "I was distracted."

He smiled.

"Must be fate again."

My heart exploded right there in the middle of the café, with tea in one hand and my name in his voice.

-

His fingers were warm against my waist.

Not just warm-grounding. Like they reached past my skin and steadied something deeper. My breath caught, and I stared up into eyes I'd dreamed about only hours ago.