Deeply In Love With The Forbidden

Evelyn's POV

"You think I'm just a human, don't you?"

I laughed. Lightly. Carelessly. Unaware of the danger standing just inches from me.

"I'm more than what you see," he whispered. His voice was deep, smooth like midnight, and his eyes-God, those eyes-gleamed with something I couldn't name.

I didn't know it then, but that was the night everything changed.

~

My name is Evelyn Blair. I'm 22 years old, born and raised in London-the very ordinary and un-magical kind.

My days are filled with design deadlines, overpriced coffee, and the kind of loneliness that clings even when you're surrounded by people.

I work a soul-sucking internship at a London design firm and spend most of my nights either curled up with fantasy novels or battling insomnia.

I don't believe in monsters. Not really.

Though... I used to.

When I was a little girl, my grandmother would tell me stories. Not the sweet kind with princesses and fairy godmothers. Hers were darker. Warnings disguised as fables.

Her voice would drop to a whisper, and she'd say, "Stay away from the forests, Evelyn. Beware the ones they call the Forbidden."

She said they weren't like us. That they wore human skin, but inside... they were beasts. Wild, dangerous and cursed.

Wolves in plain sight.

I outgrew those stories, of course. Or maybe I just stopped letting myself believe in them.

Until I met him.

~

It started at the amusement park on the edge of Southbank, glittering with laughter and sticky hands and neon lights.

My best friend Claire had dragged me out, claiming I needed to "reconnect with life" or some dramatic nonsense like that. She ran off moments after we got there, lured away by hot chocolate and a suspiciously handsome street magicians.

Which left me alone, standing near the carousel like some half-sketched extra in someone else's story.

That's when I saw him.

He stood under a string of golden lights like they belonged to him. Tall. Composed. Wrapped in a black coat that moved just slightly with the breeze.

He didn't look around. Didn't smile at the children. He did not flinch at the sudden blast of pop music from the speakers nearby.

He looked like stillness personified. Stillness with sharp cheekbones and a gaze that burned, he was looking directly at me.

I should've looked away but I didn't.

He crossed the distance between us with a kind of grace that didn't make sense-too fluid, too quiet. Like he didn't walk so much as glide.

"Popcorn?" he asked when he stopped in front of me.

I blinked. "What?"

He motioned toward the paper bag clutched in my hand. "You're holding it like you might use it as a shield."

I glanced down, surprised. "Comfort food."

"For?" he asked

"Life," I said flatly.

He smiled. Just slightly. "And how's that going for you?"

"Let's just say the popcorn's the highlight of my week."

"I'm Bryson," he said.

I hesitated then replied. "Evelyn."

"Oh, Evelyn, nice to meet you" He said my name like it meant something. Like he'd heard it before in a dream he couldn't quite remember.

"Same here" I replied

We started walking together without ever really deciding to. He asked me about myself-small questions with surprisingly weighty answers.

I told him about my internship, my late nights, my habit of reading tragic love stories like they were survival manuals. I admitted I hated crowded places but loved watching them.

He listened like no one ever had before. Not just nodding, but really listening. Like every word out of my mouth was another puzzle piece he was determined to fit together.

He never once looked at his phone. Not once.

"What about you?" I asked as we passed the funhouse, the mirrors flickering with distorted reflections. "Why are you here tonight?"

"I'm observing," he said.

"Observing..., what are you observing?" I asked surprised

"Humans." he replied sharply

I let out a short laugh. "That's not weird at all."

He smirked. "I didn't say I was normal."

"No. You definitely didn't."

He glanced at me then asked. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." I answered

"Have you ever heard of the Forbidden?" he asked further

My body stiffened.

The wind curled around us like it heard the word too.

"Yes..., but why did you ask?" I asked slowly.

"I read the name once. In a story." His voice was still casual, but there was something... watchful in it. "They were described as monsters. Hidden among humans. Feared. Hunted."

I stopped walking.

"Oh, really?" I said

"Yes" He replied

"Actually, my grandmother used to tell me about that kinda story." I said

"What did she said about it?" he curiously asked

I swallowed. "She said they lived in shadows. That they were stronger, faster. That they could smell lies and rip out your throat before you even knew you were in danger."

He didn't react. Just waited.

"Though, she said they weren't evil," I continued. "But that their love could destroy you."

His eyes flashed. Just for a second.

It turns Gold.

But I told myself it was the reflection of the carousel lights.

"And you?" I asked, trying to calm my racing heart. "Do you believe in monsters?"

He took a step closer.

"I believe we fear the things that make us feel too much." he answered

I held my breath.

He looked at me like he could already see every piece of me I tried to keep hidden.

And then he said something that carved itself into my soul.

"You're not what I expected, Evelyn."

"Neither are you," I whispered.

We stopped beneath the fairy-lit trees at the edge of the park, where the noise of the carnival faded into silence. My breath misted in the cool night air, and the scent of cinnamon and damp earth clung to my coat.

I shouldn't have followed him. I didn't even know him. But somehow, I felt safer in the quiet of his presence than I ever had in any crowd.

That scared me.

But not enough to make me walk away.

"Tell me something real," I said, breaking the silence.

He glanced at me, lips tilting with something unreadable. "Everything I've told you is real."

"Then tell me something personal."

A pause.

"I'm thirty," he said.

I blinked. "You don't look it."

"Good genes," he replied with a smirk, and I rolled my eyes.

"Where are you from?"

He looked up at the sky, as if he needed to search for the answer in the stars.

"I come from a place where being different can cost you everything."

My throat tightened. "That sounds lonely."

"It is," he said. "Until tonight."

The air shifted.

Something in me bloomed and trembled at the same time.

I looked at him fully, really looked. "Why are you really here, Bryson?"

His voice was soft when he replied. "Because I've been told all my life that your kind hates mine. And I wanted to see for myself why."

I blinked. "My kind?"

He caught himself. Smiled, quick and smooth. "Humans."

I laughed awkwardly, even as my skin prickled. "You say that like you're not one of us."

He tilted his head, eyes catching mine in the shadows. "You think I'm just a human, don't you?"

My heart skipped.

I laughed, but it came out thin. "Is this where you tell me you're secretly an alien?"

He stepped closer, the gap between us shrinking like a dare.

"I'm more than what you see," he whispered, voice threading through me like smoke. "But I'm still trying to figure out what that means around you."

My lungs didn't work properly for a moment.

His nearness was overwhelming - not just physically, but... energetically. Like he hummed with something ancient. Like the air bent around him.

"I should go," I said, but I didn't move.

He didn't either. "Do you want to?"

"No," I whispered.

And I didn't.

That moment between us, thick with silence and want, felt more intimate than anything I'd ever known.

Then the wind shifted and I felt... watched.

Not by him. By something else.

Something colder.

I turned, scanning the park.

There-far beyond the arcade lights, past the line of empty booths-stood a figure.

It was still and watching.

My breath was caught.

"Bryson," I said quietly, nodding toward the shadow.

He followed my gaze with his eyes narrowing. His expression flickered - not in fear nor surprised but in recognition.

Then, it was gone.

"No one's there," he said smoothly.

I looked again but the figure was gone but I knew what I saw or I thought I did.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. Just... probably popcorn paranoia."

He chuckled, and the tension eased. But his shoulders didn't fully relax. Neither did mine.

We walked again, but slower, like something unspoken lingered in the air behind us.

"I don't usually talk like this with people I've just met," I admitted.

"Neither do I."

"So why now?"

He looked at me.

Like the answer was too big to say.

"I think... sometimes, we meet people who remind us of who we really are. Even if we don't want to remember."

I swallowed hard.

"Bryson," I said, "what would you do if the stories were real?"

He stopped.

"You mean the Forbidden?"

I nodded.

"What if they weren't just legends? What if they were here-right now-and we just didn't know who they were?"

He didn't answer at first.

Then, with a low voice that sent a ripple down my spine, he said, "Then I'd hope someone like you could still love one of them."

Silence follows.

I didn't even realize I was shaking until he reached out and gently touched my hand.

It was warm, strong and human.

And yet... not.

I looked up into those eyes - golden brown with flecks of something brighter, something wrong.

And for a second, just one heartbeat of time, I wondered:

What are you, Bryson Wilder?

We stopped at the edge of my street.

I turned to him, the carnival now just a hum behind us.

"Thank you," I said. "For walking with me."

He smiled, but it was tight. Like he was battling something inside.

"I'll see you again, Evelyn."

"That's a promise?" I asked.

He stepped close again, his fingers brushing mine.

"No," he said. "It's fate."

And with that, he turned and disappeared down the path, swallowed by shadows that didn't quite seem to touch him.

I stood there for a while with my heart racing.

Far away, in the corner of the darkened city, a low growl echoed.

It's not close nor loud but enough to make birds scatter from trees and a silence fall over the night.

~

The cold breeze hit me as soon as I stepped into my apartment.

I leaned against the door once it shut behind me, still gripping the doorknob like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to this reality. The city buzzed faintly outside, lights flickering across my window, but I wasn't really here.

I was still standing under those fairy lights.

Still feeling the ghost of his fingers brushing mine.

Still hearing his voice echoing in the hollow space between my ribs.

"It's fate."

A shiver crawled up my spine-and it wasn't from the cold.

I moved on autopilot, toeing off my boots, shrugging out of my coat, dropping my keys in the dish by the door. I didn't bother turning on the light. The room glowed faintly from the street lamps outside, and that was enough. Too much light might make the memory feel too distant and unreal.

I collapsed on the couch and stared at the ceiling.

"What are you, Bryson Wilder?"

The question pulsed inside me like a second heartbeat. There was something... not normal about him. Something that made my instincts wake up and tremble, but not in fear, instead, it's curiosity and want.

And that terrified me more than anything.

My phone vibrated against the arm of the couch. Claire's name flashed across the screen.

I picked it up with a sigh and swiped.

"Hey," I said, voice soft.

"Hey you! Where are you? Did you go home already?" she asked, the sounds of carnival music and laughter still behind her.

"Yeah. I'm home."

"Wow, you just disappeared! Did the popcorn betray you, or did you ran off with a man?"

I bit my lip and turned my head to the side, eyes closing slowly.

"...Something like the second question."

Claire gasped. "You didn't!"

"I didn't do anything," I replied, a little too defensively. "We talked and walked. He walked me home."

She was quiet for a bit, then her voice turned serious. "Evelyn... are you okay? You sound-off."

I pressed my hand against my chest, where it still ached.

"I'm fine. Just... tired."

"Alright," she said, but I could hear the suspicion behind it. "I'll call tomorrow, okay?"

"Yeah. Sleep well."

"You too."

I hung up and stared at the ceiling again.

Sleep.

That sounded like a good idea.

I dragged myself to bed, changed into a soft T-shirt, and curled beneath my blanket. The scent of carnival sugar still clung to my coat in the corner. I turned onto my side and closed my eyes.

But sleep didn't come easy.

Every time I drifted, his face hovered behind my eyelids. His voice. His heat. His eyes that didn't quite look... human.

Who are you, Bryson?

And why do I feel like meeting you rewrote something inside me?

~

Bryson's POV

The wind carried the scent of her long after I left her street.

Vanilla, ink, something faintly citrus.

It clung to my coat, curled in my hair, sank into my skin like her presence had claimed it. I moved through the alleyways like a shadow, every step perfectly silent. My body could've crossed the entire city in minutes if I wanted to-but tonight, I didn't rush.

I let myself linger.

The girl was unexpected.

No... Evelyn was unexpected.

And that made her dangerous.

I reached the rooftop of the old stone building across from my flat and leapt effortlessly to the balcony. The glass door was unlocked. I stepped inside.

He was waiting for me, my beta.

"Tell me you didn't," Axel growled, arms folded across his chest, shoulders tense.

I didn't answer.

He paced in front of the fireplace, his scent like cedar and smoke, eyes as pale as winter. His wolf wasn't far beneath the surface tonight.

"You were supposed to observe, not charm her. And not bring her scent back on your skin like a damn mark."

"I didn't mark her," I said quietly.

Axel turned sharply. "But you wanted to."

Silence.

I pulled off my coat and dropped it across the back of the chair.

He let out a sharp exhale. "You're too close, Bryson. You forget what they are. What they've done to us."

My jaw clenched.

"I haven't forgotten anything."

"Then why are you looking at her like she's your mate?"

I stilled.

"Because some part of me feared she was."

"And some part of me hoped she is."

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.