Chapter 003

Clarissa's Point of View

Clarissa ran as fast as her legs would allow her. Her heart beat in her chest, and the night air whistled through her face, chilling the fire that flushed her veins. She had known all the steps, all the breathing, but her mind was miles away, lost in perplexity. She did not have to go this far, not with the neutral grounds right ahead. The location where wolves and lycans could meet and pass without fighting, where no one had to shed blood. It was holy ground, and even the rogues--those who had no packs--dared not to violate the unwritten law.

But here she was, running, and the reasons why she was running were far more than anything that a law could hold. This wasn’t about neutrality. This was not even concerning her pack. This was of something within her that had started to awaken the moment she saw him--the lycan.

Clarissa did not feel in control as she had never felt before in her life. She had always boasted that she knew what she wanted and she went after it. Nothing ever put her in the wrong. Her heart was now confused in feelings she could not sort out. Her wolf, Viola, had been unusually vocal to-day. She was not talkative, and only spoke when she was obliged. But not now. Not at the time Clarissa required clarity. Viola was thrilled, as a wolf to spring into the fray. Something in her wanted to turn and go back. Back to the lycan.

Clarissa was stamping her feet on the ground, but however fast she ran, she could not outrun the attraction she felt towards him. The lycan. He was her mate, wasn’t he? But what a mate could be so violent one moment and so soft the next? His claws were ready to attack, to kill her, but his eyes--his eyes--they contained something. Something threatening, and yet... sweet. It baffled her, it made her doubt all she believed she knew about mates, and the relationship they had.

Viola called to her again, a cry of pleading to stop. “Why am I so afraid?”

She had never been so divided in her life. To go back. Clarissa tightened her teeth, attempting to close her wolf out, but it was more difficult than it ought to have been. She could not resist the attraction between them. But she couldn’t stop now. Not when the pack, her pack, was so near.

This was not what Clarissa had been taught to believe in her instincts. The lycan was not meant to count. She was not supposed to desire him. Not when he embodied all that was contrary to the laws of the packs. A lycan was never to be trusted. A lycan could not be her companion.

And here she was, running, with nothing but thoughts of him in her head. She had been running what seemed hours, yet there were only three. The bond. Her mate bond. She could not refute that it was real.

The riverbank was now but a memory behind her, and she would soon be at the well-known gates of her pack. The reality was looking her in the face, yet she was not prepared to face it. Three long hours, and yet her heart beat not from the exertion, but from something else. The muddiness in her heart made breathing difficult.

Clarissa walked more slowly as the pack-gates appeared. Now she was near enough to halt. It was not that her feet were aching. It was all the rest--all that she did not want to confront. The idea tied her stomach. She was not prepared to realize that she had found her mate just to drive him away. She waited a little, looking at the gates.

Adrian screamed, and his voice was wrought with emotion. They towered over her like a wall between the life she was familiar with and the one she was not certain she was prepared to enter. She had to face them. She was forced to confront the pack, her father. And yet, the last thing she desired to do was to pass through those gates and act as though all was well.

Now what shall I do? she said to herself.

The face of the lycan, how his eyes had softened, crowded her thoughts again. He was not what she had dreamed, and all that she had dreaded. But there was something there--something she had not been ready to.

Suddenly, a rustling sound behind her broke through her thoughts. Her hand was instinctively reaching to the dagger at her side, but the figure that appeared was not an enemy. It was Adrian. He appeared, and a dozen warriors followed him. His expression was pulled in with relief, yet there was something more in his eyes--something which Clarissa could not identify.

“Clarissa!” His hands were known, and warm, yet they did not comfort her as they had done before.

Adrian ran up to her before she could reply and embraced her. I am happy you are alive, I said, and his relief came over me like a wave. She drew herself up in his grip, and he instantly withdrew, seeking in her eyes some sign of encouragement.

She shriveled, her mind whirling. “I thought we’d lost you. We were on the point of going to war, and we were going to fight the lycans.

Clarissa’s mind scrambled. War? Was that what he thought? She had not been away long, and already they were ready to go to war on her account. Clarissa was tightening her chest as she digested what he had said.

Why did you suppose I was dead? she said, her voice sharp in spite of herself.

Adrian relaxed his face, his brows knitting together with a long sigh. Your smell--your smell had gone. We discovered one of your arrows in the river, and we did not know what to think. You do not cross the boundary in that way. We could only conclude that a lycan had reached you. Then two lycans appeared, prepared to combat. It seemed like a clear sign.”

Clarissa nodded, and her head was still swirling. They had thought she was dead. And in their sorrow and terror they had made ready war. A pang of guilt turned in her stomach. Yet it was not the guilt that bothered her. It was the feeling that she had created so much mess.

Did you really think I was dead, she said again, with a voice that was less certain.

We had pictured the worst when we found your arrow. You never cross the line without notifying someone. You are all, my Clarissa, he said proudly, and his voice was full of warmth. But we found you, Clarissa. You’re alive. That’s all that matters now.”

You are all, my Clarissa, he said proudly, and his voice was full of warmth. She had to think. She couldn’t just let this go. Questions were too many, things left unsaid were too many.

The view of the warriors awaiting her, glad to see her, as they walked back into the pack, made her feel like a stranger. Her father stood there, at the entrance, and when he caught sight of her his face softened. He touched her and patted her head.

Clarissa smiled, and it was a sad smile. I knew you were tough enough to live. But you look pale. Get inside and rest. No work today.”

She had demonstrated that she was not a weak individual, that she was not an individual who could just dissipate. “Thanks, Dad,” she murmured.

However, as she passed her stepmother, she could not get rid of the sense that something was wrong. The frown of her stepmother was not less than satisfactory. Clarissa had come back. She had demonstrated that she was not a weak individual, that she was not an individual who could just dissipate.

When Clarissa got into her room, she closed the door behind her, and her legs were weak. She went to bed and shut her eyes trying to sleep, but it did not come. She could not stop thinking about the face of the lycan, those dark eyes. The warmth of his presence. Now what was she to do?

Her heart raced again. Could she ever really walk away out of him?