Chapter 20: The First Meeting

FLASHBACK

The first time I saw him, I felt a jolt deep in my stomach, a primal recognition that had no place in the mind of a fourteen year old girl. It was the summer gathering, and the air was thick with the smells of roasting meat, woodsmoke, and the mingled scents of two allied packs celebrating a fragile peace.

I was hiding, of course. The noise and the posturing of the warriors was overwhelming. I found a quiet spot near the edge of the firelight, leaning against a tall pine tree, watching the dancers whirl and stomp in the center of the clearing.

Then I saw him.

He stood apart from the other boys his age. They were shoving each other and boasting, but he was still, his arms crossed, watching the proceedings with a quiet intensity that seemed too old for his face. He was seventeen, all lean, coiled strength and sharp angles, with hair as dark as the midnight sky and eyes that even from a distance looked like they held a storm.

He was looking for something. His gaze swept the crowd, dismissive, until it landed on me.

My breath froze in my lungs. He didn't smile or look away. He just stared, and the intensity of that look was a physical weight, pinning me to the spot. I should have looked down, played the demure maiden. But I couldn't. I was caught, a rabbit in a snare of my own making.

He uncrossed his arms and started walking towards me. My heart began to hammer against my ribs, a wild, frantic rhythm. The noise of the gathering faded into a dull roar. All I could see was him, moving with a predator's grace through the crowd, his eyes never leaving mine.

He stopped a few feet away. Up close, he was even more striking.

"You're not dancing," he said. His voice was deeper than I expected, a low rumble that vibrated in the space between us.

"Neither are you," I managed to reply, my own voice sounding thin and reedy.

A corner of his mouth quirked up. "I don't like the noise."

"Me either."

We stood in silence for a moment, the awkwardness somehow charged. The heat from the massive bonfire was nothing compared to the heat I felt rising in my cheeks.

"I'm Garrick," he said finally.

"I know." Everyone knew who he was. "I'm Anika."

"I know," he echoed, and the way he said it made it sound like he had known for a long time.

He took a step closer, closing the distance. The scent of him, clean night air and sun-warmed leather, washed over me, it was a good scent. A dangerous one.

"Why are you hiding over here?" he asked, his voice dropping.

"Why did you come over here?" I countered, finding a sliver of my nerve.

His eyes gleamed in the firelight. "I saw you. And I wanted to know why you were the only real thing in this whole crowd."

My breath hitched. The words were too forward, too intense. They should have scared me. Instead, they sent a thrill through me, a spark that ignited something low in my belly.

"I'm not anything special," I whispered.

"You're wrong." He said it with such absolute certainty that I almost believed him. His gaze dropped to my lips, then back to my eyes. The air crackled. I could feel the pull between us, a tangible force drawing me towards him. It was lust, simple and raw, a chemistry I was too young to understand but my body recognized instinctively.

The music shifted to a slower, more rhythmic beat. The dance was a traditional one, a courtship dance. Partners faced each other, close but not touching, moving in a circle, a test of nerve and attraction.

"Dance with me," he said. It wasn't a question.

"Here?" I glanced toward the crowded circle. "Everyone will see."

"Let them see," he said, and there was a possessiveness in his tone that made my knees feel weak.

He held out his hand. I stared at it, at his long, strong fingers. This was a line, If I took it, everything would change. I would be marking myself in the eyes of the pack.

I placed my hand in his.

His fingers closed around mine, his grip firm and warm. A jolt, sharp and undeniable, shot up my arm. He led me to the edge of the dancing circle, ignoring the looks and the whispers that started up around us. He turned to face me, so close I could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the faint dusting of freckles across his nose.

We began to move. We didn't touch, except for our hands. The dance was all about the eyes, about the space between two bodies. We circled each other, our steps falling into sync as if we had practiced for years. His eyes never left mine. They were hungry, devouring. They traced the lines of my face, the curve of my neck, the rise and fall of my chest. I felt laid bare, seen in a way I never had been before.

I was supposed to look demurely at his chest, but I couldn't break the connection. I met his gaze with my own, letting him see the answering heat there, the spark of defiance and desire. The world narrowed to the circle of packed earth, to the sound of the drums, to him.

He moved a fraction closer. The heat from his body was a brand, I could feel the whisper of his tunic against the front of my dress.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, the words meant for me alone, lost under the beat of the drums.

My face flamed, I had no reply. My blood was singing in my veins, a wild, reckless song.

The dance ended when the music stopped. But we stood there, frozen, our hands still clasped, our bodies still leaning towards each other. The spell was broken by the chatter of the crowd returning to normal volume.

He didn't let go of my hand. He leaned in, his lips close to my ear. His breath was warm on my skin. "Meet me tomorrow. By the old oak tree at the edge of the woods, at sunset."

It was a command and a plea all at once. It was madness. It was everything I wanted.

I pulled my hand from his, the loss of contact feeling like a sudden coldness. I didn't say yes, I didn't say no, I just turned and walked away, my legs unsteady, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I could feel his eyes on my back the entire way, a hot, possessive weight that promised both ruin and redemption.

I didn't look back, I didn't need to. I knew, with a certainty that shook me to my core, that I would be at that oak tree at sunset. The first meeting was over, and the game had begun.

A game I had no idea how to play, but one I was suddenly desperate to win.