Promised to the Beta

Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

I lead him through the maze of corridors, the scent of old wood and cooking dinner lingering in the air. The pack house stands as a fortress amidst the chaos of the city, a secret haven for those like us. My heart races, but I keep my steps even, my voice steady.

"Here we are," I say, pushing open a heavy door to reveal his room. It's spacious, with a large window that overlooks the expanse of our urban refuge. There’s a bed made up with crisp, clean sheets, a sturdy oak dresser, and a bookshelf waiting to be filled. I can feel Henry's surprise—he hadn't expected this level of comfort hidden within our rough-hewn walls.

"It's... nice." His words, tentative at first, grow stronger as he takes it all in, blue eyes scanning every corner, every detail. His blonde hair catches the fading sunlight pouring through the window, turning it almost golden.

"Thought you'd like it," I reply, masking the fluttering in my stomach with nonchalance. We werewolves take pride in our hospitality, even if our guests are human.

I walk over to the closet, slide open the door to show him where he can put his things. He moves closer to inspect it, and that's when it happens—our hands brush as we both reach for the top shelf. A jolt of electricity shoots up my arm, and I'm acutely aware of how close he is. I can hear his steady breaths, see the flecks of green in his ocean-blue eyes as they meet mine.

"Sorry," he murmurs, but there's a hint of something else in his voice—a curiosity, a spark that mirrors my own inner turmoil. His skin is warm against mine, even in the briefest of touches, and I have to remind myself to breathe.

"Uh, no problem." My voice doesn’t sound like my own—it's too high, too tight. I step back, giving us both some much-needed space, but the heat from his hand lingers on my skin like a promise.

"Let me know if you need anything else," I manage to say, trying to refocus on my duty to the pack. To make sure he settles in without issue. That's what I should be concerned about. Not the way my pulse thrums at the contact, not the way my wolf stirs, intrigued and alert.

"Sure, thank you, Mia." Henry nods, still looking at the spot where our hands touched, as if he too feels the weight of that fleeting connection.

I straighten up, the air between us charged with an energy I can't afford to indulge in. My heart races, a silent drumbeat in my chest that urges me to step closer, to explore this unexpected pull towards Henry. But duty calls with a voice louder than desire, and I am bound by it, anchored by the weight of responsibility that rests on my shoulders.

"Right," I say, clearing my throat, "you should get some rest. Pack gathering tonight."

The room feels smaller somehow, the walls inching closer with every second we stand here. I force my feet to move, to carry me to the door, away from the temptation that is Henry with his human curiosity and disarming smile. He's off-limits, a line I can't cross. Not when the pack needs my focus, my strength. Not when my loyalty lies with them—with Logan, who has always been my rock.

"Of course," Henry replies, and even though I don’t look back, I can hear the hesitation in his voice, the unspoken questions lingering in the air like smoke.

I'm out the door before I can second-guess myself, my hand slipping off the doorknob as if it burns. The hallway greets me with its familiar shadows, the low hum of the pack house at night settling around me like a cloak. I can almost imagine the city beyond these walls, pulsating with life, oblivious to the secrets that thrum beneath its skin.

Footsteps echo behind closed doors, the sounds of my packmates, each wrapped in their own nightly rituals. I should be among them, sharing in the camaraderie, but tonight I feel like an outsider looking in. The encounter with Henry has left me adrift, caught between what I know is right and what I can't seem to shake off.

My wolf prowls just beneath the surface, restless and keenly aware of the new presence in our midst. She is curious, drawn to the novelty, but she too knows the rules—knows what's at stake. We are Ironfur, guardians of a secret as old as time, protectors of a world that can never fully understand us.

"Stay focused," I whisper to myself, a mantra to quell the mounting storm inside me.

With every step I take away from Henry's room, I rebuild the walls around my heart, brick by invisible brick. By the time I reach my own door, I am Gamma once more—strong, fearless, and undistracted.

I close my eyes, inhale deeply, and let the fresh start fill my lungs. This is where I belong, within the heart of the Ironfur pack. No fleeting touch or brush of hands can change that. No matter how much it tempts me to forget.