Warnings: wolfy stuff, read the previous warnings, mature themes (18+)
A/n: Don’t throw stones at me🫣 next chapter will be the last one of this series and you’ll get all your heart’s desires in it I promise. Enjoy this mess
<-previous chapter. Next chapter->
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Zoya returns home instead of going to the station. Call it intuition, but the minute she steps through the door, she feels it.
“It’s no wonder I feel close to death.” Zoya says after a drawn out groan.
She takes a quick shower then drags herself to the kitchen to boil water. Her search for heating pads at the small convenience store was in vain, and for the umpteenth time, she curses herself for not taking one with her from Chicago. Zoya plops onto the couch, flinching as the soaked rag is pressed on her lower belly. It feels like there’s a hamster on a wheel working overtime in her brain. Werewolves. Mates. Alphas. Omegas. Cian’s threat— the irrational panic she feels because Virgil could be in danger. It’s no wonder her period came four days earlier than it should. Speaking of Virgil, she hasn’t seen him in three days and she had to physically resist the urge to seek him out. There’s also a pitiful feeling that threatens to spill over when she thinks too deeply of him not coming to see her either. Zoya shakes her head to physically rid herself of her thoughts. She needs to get it together and figure things out. Curling tighter into herself at a harsh cramp, she vows she’ll start later after a nap.
Zoya is awoken a few hours later by pounding against her front door. Her sense of smell must’ve sharpened incredibly over the last couple of days somehow, because she smells him before she even shifts on the couch. With her heart pounding in her chest, she rises to her feet unsteadily. Virgil looks just as good as she remembers as he stands impatiently on her porch dressed in rugged jeans and a white Henley shirt.
“Virgil.” She greets, careful to keep the enthusiasm out of her voice.
He takes his time to do a slow perusal of her from her loose curly hair to her toes. “You’re in pain.” He comments with concern.
She tries to appear degage, waving a hand dismissively. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s not overwhelming. I sent venison because I…” he pauses to clear his throat almost awkwardly.
“I knew your cycle was close. It’s rich in iron; you’ve been eating, yes?”
Zoya eyes him skeptically despite the butterflies going on a rampage in her belly. “You can tell when… how?”
He seems to think carefully about his response before he offers it. “Biology. Instinct. Have you eaten?”
Her eyes find her feet shamefully. “Not yet. I just came home and fell asleep with a warm cloth on my belly.”
With a huff, Virgil enters without an invitation and strides into her kitchen. Zoya is frozen listening to the tap running then the sound of her freezer being opened. She returns to the couch without making a fuss, not in the mood to pretend she doesn’t like him taking care of her like this. His brooding presence in the house makes her hyper aware of every breath. For the first time since moving here, Zoya wishes she had a tv. The service is so slow up in the mountains that playing a video on YouTube is virtually impossible. There’s nothing to do except sit in silence and watch Virgil move around her kitchen like he belongs in her home.
“28.” She says it just loud enough for him to hear in the kitchen.
He faces her briefly before he returns his attention to peeling potatoes.
“I’m guessing that’s how old you are.” Virgil comments offhandedly.
A long stretch of silence passes before he speaks; “Old.”
Zoya licks her dry lips. “So, you age slower?”
“Yes. Do you like smoked meat?”
Zoya stares at his muscular back that’s visible even through his shirt. “Cian wants to kill you.” She accidentally blurts out.
His movements slow for a second but never cease. “I know that.”
“As in, he wants to do it soon… after the blue moon.” Zoya sounds as panicked as she feels.
“How would you know that?”
She fiddles with her thumbs. “I went to confront him about O’Connor. He confessed- told me he was mad that you came into town and threatened his position. I threatened to arrest him but he called my um… bluff. He knew if I took him in and he started talking then you’d get in trouble too.”
When Virgil turns to her again, his mouth is tilted slightly showing a hint of amusement. “That so?”
Zoya looks away from him with warm cheeks. “Get off your high horse, I just need solid evidence against both of you.”
“Sure, Zoya. But I’ll take care of Cian, in the meantime, don’t go near him again. It’s faint, but I can smell him on you and it’s making me…” Virgil trails off with a roll of his neck.
“Even after I showered?” She rubs at her neck subconsciously.
“Yes. My senses are hypersensitive because of the…” His movements grow almost choppy.
Something inside of her desperately wants to please him. It’s simultaneously distressing and frustrating. She doesn’t know what’s wrong with her recently.
He suddenly freezes. When he turns to pin her with his stare, Zoya is momentarily left breathless. “Let me scent you.”
“What does that mean?” She whispers, heart racing.
Virgil approaches, the look in his eyes is nothing short of predatory. He squats so he’s eye level with her seated on the couch.
Zoya is almost panting in anticipation. She obeys his command. Virgil slowly closes the distance between them until she feels his warm breath fanning against her skin. He allows the tension to build— not touching, just breathing her in. Something that sounds suspiciously like a growl rattles his chest gently. Finally, he bumps his nose under her jawline softly. Zoya’s eyes flutter shut at the first press of his slightly chapped lips on her skin. He peppers the length of her neck with kisses until she’s shuddering. A soft moan tumbles out her mouth, her hands move without her permission to cup the back of his head. She scratches at his undercut just as his tongue flicks out to lick a stripe along the column of her neck. Every muscle in her body locks tight.
“Oh.” She whimpers softly.
Humming softly, Virgil pulls a patch of skin between his lips to suck on. He brings the wrist of his left hand to rub against the opposite side of her neck simultaneously. Her eyes roll to the back of her head, belly quivering at the sharp scrape of his teeth against sensitive skin. It’s not the physical act of what he’s doing, something, some base part of her that she didn’t know existed needed this. It’s pleasurable beyond the surface level.
Zoya whines pathetically as he licks at the front of her neck all the way until he gets to her chin. She thinks she initiates the kiss, Zoya isn’t sure with her brain so hazy but their mouths are suddenly moving in desperate tandem. She should be embarrassed by the way she immediately melts into him. But it feels right— natural. Virgil kisses like he carries himself: commanding, overwhelming, all- consuming. Zoya whines as she’s pulled closer into his body. His shoulders are so solid beneath her palms. Their lips dance to a carnal rhythm only they hear until he finally plunges his tongue inside her mouth on her fourth desperate whine. The muscles in her lower belly spasm, worsening her cramps but Zoya doesn’t care. Virgil licks into her mouth until it gets hard to breathe. He finally pulls away, eyes squeezed shut and body taut. Zoya chases his lips blindly but he tilts away, trying to reign his wolf in.
“Behave, Zoya.” He commands sternly.
With a petulant whine, she buries her face in the crook of his neck instead. Her actions are beyond logic, but she doesn’t fight the urge to rub against his skin just as he did to her. Zoya sucks on his skin while he growls and shakes. He allows her a few more seconds before he holds her off firmly.
“That’s enough, baby.” He pets along the length of her arms and her back until she stops trying to dive back into him.
As her senses slowly return, so does embarrassment. Zoya wishes the ground would open up and swallow her.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” She mutters apologetically.
Virgil’s eyes drag across every inch of her face. “You’ll understand soon enough.” He stands with his hands clenched into fists.
She sees the droplets of blood pooling in his palms. He follows her gaze, then looks back at her to gauge her reaction. Zoya only blinks at him in surprise— not fear. Never fear with him, she belatedly realizes. It seems to be enough for him. He doesn’t speak, just solemnly returns to the kitchen to continue making her lunch.
An hour and a half later, Virgil emerges from the kitchen with a singular bowl in hand. It’s packed with more venison than potatoes with a side of roasted carrots and onions.
“Thank you.” Her stare drops to the bowl shyly.
She tries the venison first; it’s cooked to perfection— tender, herby and delicious. Zoya hums in delight, eyes fluttering briefly.
The compliment falls flat between them. Virgil keeps staring, as if watching her eat is satisfying for him. Zoya is suddenly overcome with the urge to feed him too. Loading the fork with venison, potato and a piece of carrot, she only hesitates for a moment before tentatively stretching the fork in his direction. Virgil glances at the fork then at her. His gaze grows even more intense and her face warms in response. He keeps his eyes locked on hers as he lowers his head to accept the bite of food. Zoya smiles bashfully, taking the next bite for herself. Virgil accepts another three bites but stops her on her fourth attempt.
“I made this for you, Zoya. You need it.”
“It’s a lot of food.” She says with a pout.
“That you need. Also, there’s leftovers in the pot for later. I’ll drop off some other things tomorrow.”
Zoya eats the rest of her food in silence while Virgil cleans the kitchen. He hands her a bottle of water chilled from the fridge while retrieving her empty bowl.
Virgil returns to the living room, standing a few feet away from the couch to stare at her in contemplative silence. Clearing her throat loudly, Zoya fidgets in place.
“Zoya, I’m a very… traditional alpha.”
She bites her lip, waiting for him to continue.
“You’re my mate, my other half. That unexplainable pull you feel, it’s ten times worse for me because of my wolf. It’ll worsen as the blue moon approaches, and we’ll both physically feel the effects if you continue to fight it.” He takes a deep breath, fists clenching until he physically shakes.
“On the night of the blue moon, nothing will stop me from mating you, and I mean nothing. During, I’ll place my mark on your neck and it’ll change you. It’s a lot.”
Zoya sucks in a harsh breath; “As in, I become… like you?” She can’t even say it.
He nods solemnly; “And you’ll be luna of my pack. The change, it will be… chaotic, strenuous, especially when you go into heat, real heat. But as your alpha, I swear on my life that I’ll protect you and take care of you with every part of my being.”
He pauses, brows furrowing as if the thought of what he’s going to say next brings him physical pain. “But it’s a lot, so I’ll understand if you don’t want to go through it. If that’s your choice, I suggest you leave town before the end of the week.”
Virgil strides out of her home without sparing her another glance. Hours later, with his scent still lingering in her living room and her brain going a mile a minute, Zoya comes to the belated revelation that she made her decision the minute he left her alone with a pitiful hollowness in her chest.
Zoya feigns normalcy over the next couple of days. She goes to work, ignoring the heavier tension between her Alhuwalia. True to his word, Virgil drops off another package. This time, it’s piled with smoked venison, tender cuts of lamb and steak; more of the same berries that seem to be the only ones in season and a myriad of root vegetables. He stays out of sight though and she hates the hollow feeling that creates in her chest. She goes on interviews with Townsend, most forgettable with fidgeting townsfolk or others she recognizes from Virgil’s pub who give her brief knowing looks while denying any knowledge about the crime. Now, they’re back at Cian’s, because Townsend’s ignorance of the supernatural pulls them in nothing but circles. Zoya ignores the scathing looks from Cian and his cook that sits to his right. Virgil’s scent must be saturated in her skin, afterall. Riley strolls into the diner and confirms her theory. He freezes in wide eyed surprise when he first notices, until his mouth stretches in a mischievous smirk.
“Detective, you seem to be settling into town nicely. Thinking of switching your citizenship?” Riley says, recalcitrance on full display. He doesn’t even glance at Townsend sitting across from her.
“If you don’t mind, we’re having a conversation here.” Townsend mutters coldly.
“Good thing I’m not speaking to you.” Riley says with a wicked glint in his eye.
“I apologize, Sheriff. I keep telling him to stop coming here but he insists.” Cian’s tone is brittle.
Zoya’s body must already be adapting by being in close proximity to Virgil often because she’s now almost able to smell the light musk of aggression in the air. Fionn- the remaining cook- and Cian both glare at Riley who widens his stance with a mocking expression on his face.
“Well, my wife has a craving for your chicken sandwiches. Laoise gets what she wants.” He says with a shrug. Townsend goes rigid by her side. Oh boy.
“Or you could give me that recipe like I’ve been asking for.” His smirk grows even more sinister.
Cian’s body physically quakes with fury.
“Alright that’s enough.” Zoya’s harsh voice cuts through the tension.
Fionn shifts his aggressive stare on her, body coiled tightly as if he means to leap over the table to attack. Riley readies himself in her peripheral vision. His presence is weirdly assuring, she knows he won’t let the man harm her. But Zoya is still Zoya. The only man who makes her a bit docile isn’t anywhere near the diner right now.
“I dare you, give me a reason to decorate the booth behind you with your brain and skull.” The click of the safety is loud in the quiet filled tension in the booth.
“Alright, let’s calm down.” Cian says firmly. Fionn immediately settles.
“Good boy.” She mutters with a smirk just to rile him up.
Fionn’s nostrils flare as Riley snickers from behind.
“I see you’re busy. I’ll be back within the hour. Detective, I suggest a thorough shower with baking soda later. It’s super relaxing and you look a little stressed.”
Zoya picks up on his warning even though his tone is playful. Baking soda must help with masking scents from them. If Virgil smells all this mixture of pheromones on her, it’ll be a problem.
“Shut up and step outside, Riley.”
No one else in the booth sees the way she silently mouths her thanks to him before he leaves with a smile.
Zoya thought it was her period that was making her feel like her limbs were borrowed; but it has been two days since it ended and she still feels physically sick. The conversation she had with Virgil almost a week ago keeps playing on repeat in her head. Zoya doesn’t want to accept it, but there isn’t any other logical explanation for all the strange shit happening. The blue moon is in three days, and she feels physically worse the closer it gets. It’s why she isn’t shocked to find herself continuing north instead of turning into her own driveway.
Her jeep rattles as she slowly pulls into his front yard filled with pebbles and trampled grass. He’s with another man she recognizes from the pub by the side of his house. They seem to be having a calm discussion, Zoya picks up on gestures of measuring with their hands. The other man retrieves a tape measure from his back pocket. Her eyes move to a pile of shaped, cut lumber in a pile a few feet away from them and she uses context clues to make sense of the situation. Virgil seems to be expanding, or renovating at the very least. Almost as if he can hear her thoughts, his head whips around to face her. But Zoya knows he must’ve heard her van from a mile away— it’s not her presence that has him looking at her like she lost her mind. It’s something else. The other guy isn’t subtle about sniffing the air slightly before he also turns to face her.
“Oh fuck!” She whispers to herself in the jeep, trying to keep her expression neutral.
Zoya exits the vehicle and almost shuffles in their direction.
“Hey.” She mutters awkwardly.
Virgil looks over at the other man and something is communicated without words. He nods at him, then almost dips into a bow in her direction before he strides off into the woods. Zoya doesn’t question it. She keeps her eyes on Virgil, swallowing tightly at the weight of his glare.
“I was just doing my job, Virgil.” She says exasperatedly.
“I don’t care about that, Zoya. Cian hates me. He knows you’re my mate; hurting you would be even better than killing me.”
“I— what?” Zoya blinks up at him.
“Losing your mate it’s… I wasn’t just calling you my other half because I’m a fucking romantic, Zoya. I’m not. It’s literal. You get hurt or die and it drives me to madness until I meet the same fate.”
Veins raise along the column of his neck, hands clenched by his sides. “And then to come here reeking of him as if you’re trying to prove a point.”
Anger makes her skin hot; “Well I wouldn’t have had to fucking do this if you came to see me!”
Embarrassment quells her anger almost immediately as the words are blurted from her mouth. Because the reality is, she missed him. She fucking missed him and she hates herself for it.
Virgil’s features soften a fraction. “Baby, I… I’m sorry. Being around you right now would only make me do things that might scare you away, and I don’t want to scare you away.”
Her heart absolutely flips at the pet name and the sincerity in his voice.
“Well… you advised that I should’ve left last weekend and I’m still here.” Zoya mutters shyly.
“I didn’t come here smelling like Cian to be rebellious, Virgil. I just… left straight from the interrogation to come see you because I physically feel…” she trails off in frustration, not being able to find the words to properly describe her current state.
“And I know you’re worried about my safety, but I’m trained for combat and would beat a cowboy in a standoff with the speed of my draw. I can protect myself… plus, Riley was there.” She adds with a shrug of her shoulders. She guesses it would placate him to an extent and her guess is proven right as the tension starts bleeding from his frame.
He sighs heavily. “I just… worry. I need you safe, Zoya.”
“I know. And see? I am. Now do you have any more of that lemonade inside? It was super good.”
Virgil looks to be warring with himself as he looks between her and his house. He finally speaks. “One drink, ten minutes. Then you have to leave before I do something stupid.”
She follows him inside, struggling to keep up with the pace of his strides. The question burns too hot to keep to herself anymore.
“Would it be so bad?” The words are blurted from her mouth.
His frame goes rigid by the refrigerator. “What do you mean?”
“You know… what if we lost control for a little and just… indulged?”
Virgil takes his time to pour her a mug full of juice. He keeps a safe distance between them on the couch as she accepts the offered cup.
“Yes… because my wolf could take over and I could accidentally mate you.” He says evenly.
Licking her lips, Zoya eyes him from beneath her lashes. “So?”
Virgil squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep inhale. “You want it?”
The way he words it and how gruff his voice makes the muscles in her lower belly clench. “I think so.”
“That’s not an answer, Zoya.”
She feels like melting in a puddle of hormones. “Yes.”
Zoya knows this beyond surface level attraction. She thought of actually taking his advice and leaving town a few days ago and was thrown into blind panic at the possibility of never seeing him again. It was so distressing she wept. Whatever this is, she can curse nature later. But Zoya knows it’s useless to fight it.
Virgil reaches for her but seems to change his mind at the last second. He jumps to his feet, placing more distance between them.
“Fuck, Zoya. I can’t, not before the blue moon.”
She pouts at her drink, the rejection making her eyes sting.
“It’s not like that. Some of us, like me, are born this way. With humans who are mates of weres, they have to be turned. Only under some phases of the moon is it guaranteed to be a successful transformation: full moons, super moons, blue moons. If not, there’s a chance your body will reject the bite; it’s very slim but possible. I won’t risk that with you, Zoya. Some wolves are impatient and do it anyway, but I’ve always believed in traditions. Even if you were a wolf I’d still prefer to go with the phases, just like my ancestors did.”
Zoya takes her time to digest what he says. She had no idea it was possible but she finds herself being even more attracted to him.
“Oh, I guess that explains a lot. What would rejecting the bite look like?”
Virgil glances away from her briefly. “Sickness then…” he trails off with an almost guilty hunch to his shoulders.
“Death, right?” She supplies calmly.
“Yes. That’s why it has to be done during the blue moon.”
She nods in understanding. “I guess I should get going then.”
He nods in agreement though they both linger to eye each other longingly.
“Can you just… do that thing you did to me again? It made me feel better and I can faintly smell their aggression still clinging to me and I don’t know how or why-”
“Because your body is preparing you for the change. Your senses are a bit heightened and the more time we spend with each other the more you’ll notice changes. But I— Zoya, I don’t think that’s wise. I’ve been going crazy with his scent on you but I don’t know if I ca-”
“Please, Virgil? Just a little?”
His eyes flutter shut, curses falling from his mouth in quick succession. This time when he reaches for her, he doesn’t hold back. He buries his face in the crook of her neck without hesitation, lips and tongue joining immediately after. He was even more desperate for it than she could’ve ever imagined. Zoya shivers in his hold, gripping the back of his neck like a life line while he sucks bruise after bruise into her skin. Arousal makes her lightheaded.
“Virgil, please.” She tentatively guides one of his hands to the seam of her jeans.
He growls. There’s no mistaking it this time, Zoya hears it. Plain as day. He presses harder without her asking him to. Zoya jerks as her swollen clit is stimulated.
His eyes shift amber; Virgil leaps from her like she burns.
With her heart going a mile a minute, Zoya watches with wide eyes as he stumbles out of his house desperately. Not before she sees smooth caramel skin giving way to tufts of jet black fur. She scampers into the doorway just in time to see him start running on four legs instead of two— just before the forest swallows up an 8 foot tall wolf whose howls are powerful enough to echo throughout the entire town of Cong.
The next two days in nothing short of torture for Zoya. When the day of the blue moon rolls around, she takes off of work by 2 pm. Too heated, groggy and antsy to stay cooped up in the small building with Townsend and Alhuwalia concerned and judging looks respectively. By 9 pm, she’s showered and in the softest white chemise due to the sudden rise in her body temperature. Zoya is shivering in bed, whimpering and turning at every howl she hears outside. They’re nonstop. Coming in waves. Some sound despairing, some aggressive. It takes another 2 hours for his smell to invade her nostrils. Zoya stiffens in bed, holding her breath to listen to the movement outside. Heavy huffing— low growling that rattle the logs in the walls. She hears the scratching against her house and she knows. It’s Virgil— here for her. Here to claim. Zoya whines, rubbing her thighs together to quell the heat and pulsing between them. Her instincts drive her to stand on unsteady feet. So she does. Zoya doesn’t question the urge, she just acts. The front door is flung open and she welcomes the feel of cool, damp grass under her bare feet. She dashes in the direction of the woods, enveloped by darkness but somehow finding a path to run. Her heart beat is loud in her ears, enough adrenaline pumping through her veins to make her feel frenzied. The moon is the brightest and the fullest she has ever seen in her life. Even from here, she can count every crater. It takes five minutes until she starts hearing it. The loud sound of heavy paws trampling everything in their path to gain on her. The chase— just like her dreams. But unlike her dreams, Zoya feels no fear. It’s thrilling. So when her right foot catches on a fallen branch and she’s sent falling into earthy moss and damp dried leaves— her heart races in anticipation when she comes face to face with those amber eyes that stalk towards her like the apex predator he is.
jbbartram-illu
prguitarman
pixelskylines
theartofmadeline
izzy806
dailybridgerton
turnnoffyourmind
