Free Web NovelChapter 49: Episode 049: Please Let Me In
Caius felt like a man trapped in a burning cage.
Every fiber of his being was singing with a relentless pulse. He had spent the last several hours in the deep woods, trying to find some semblance of peace, but the forest was no sanctuary.
The mating bond was a living, breathing tether, and tonight, it was screaming. His instincts were coiled tight, vibrating with energy that made the very air around him feel thin and suffocating.
He groaned, the sound low and guttural, disappearing into the cold night wind. He gripped the edge of a jagged rock until the stone crumbled under his fingers, pulverized into dust.
He had spent the last few hours pacing the forest floor, walking until his legs ached, doing whatever he could to calm the burning, liquid fire in his blood. It didn’t work. His body felt like it was filled with molten lead, heavy and sluggish, yet vibrating with a restless, predatory need.
He leaned his forehead against the freezing wood of a towering pine tree, seeking the bite of the cold against his overheated skin. He forced himself to breathe, one shallow, controlled inhale at a time. She is there. She is in the cabin. She is safe.
That thought was the only thing holding the leash on his darker, more primitive urges. It was the only thing that kept him from sprinting back to the door, tearing it off its hinges, and staking his claim in the most savage way possible.
He had to be a father. He had to be a partner. He had to be the man Rue deserved. He couldn’t be a savage. Not tonight. Not when she was finally resting.
He finally turned back toward the cabin when he saw the first thin, gray light of dawn touch the eastern sky. He was physically exhausted, his muscles trembling from the sheer force of his own restraint, but he was calm. The cold morning air helped to cool his skin, acting as a balm for the fever that had been plaguing him.
The morning light hit the clearing in sharp, slanted rays. Caius walked to the woodpile. He picked up his heavy iron axe.
He didn’t need to chop wood. Their stock was entirely full, the pile neatly stacked and ready for the winter. But he needed to do something with his hands.
He needed to strike something. He brought the axe down in a clean, powerful, lightning-fast arc. The wood split with a loud, satisfying crack, the sound echoing through the trees. He picked up another log. Crack. He didn’t think about anything. He just focused on the weight of the steel and the resistance of the oak. Another. Crack. freeweɓnovel.cѳm
He worked fast. He worked hard. He wanted the physical ache of the labor to overwrite the burning ache of his nerves. He wanted to be so tired that his body simply had no choice but to surrender to sleep.
Then, the light in the yard shifted. A shadow fell over the woodpile, long and dark, stretching across the frost-covered grass like a stain.
Caius froze. He didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to. The scent hit him before the figure did, a cocktail of musk, jungle rot, and predatory pride. It was a smell he recognized from the border skirmishes of the last week.
Knox. The Panther King.
Caius felt his fangs lengthen, his gums aching with the sudden, violent desire to bite. His golden eyes flickered to a dark, dangerous red. He slowly pulled the axe from the wood with a wet, splintering sound and turned around.
Knox stood at the edge of the clearing. The Panther King was wearing a simple, dark tunic that highlighted his powerful, predatory frame. His movements were fluid, quiet, and unnervingly graceful. He looked like a man trying very hard to be polite, like a leopard trying to hide its claws behind a glove.
He held his hands away from his sides, palms open, showing he wasn’t carrying a weapon. His feline eyes scanned the yard, ignoring the pile of split wood, focusing entirely on the cabin door as if it were a treasure chest he was planning to unlock.
Knox took a step forward. He looked at Caius. He offered a small, stiff nod. It was supposed to be a respectful greeting between Alphas, a gesture of peace, but it looked more like a challenge wrapped in cheap paper.
"Caius," Knox said. His voice was smooth, trained for diplomacy, yet it grated on Caius’s raw nerves like a rusted blade. "I am here for the festival. I arrived early."
Caius didn’t say a word. He didn’t offer a nod. He didn’t offer a greeting. He didn’t even pretend that Knox was welcome.
He stared at the Panther. His tail, usually a calm, heavy, and controlled weight, began to twitch. It slapped the dirt behind him in a rhythmic, impatient pattern. Caius looked at the Panther’s hands, then at his eyes, and finally, he looked at the closed cabin door, his expression hardening.
Knox took another step, his confidence growing. "I was hoping to see Rue before the market gets too crowded. Is she..."
That was all Caius needed to hear. The thought of Knox even thinking her name, let alone seeing her while his own blood was still boiling, was an insult he couldn’t stomach.
Caius didn’t growl. He didn’t shout. He simply turned his back on the Panther King, a dismissal so absolute it was more insulting than any curse. He walked toward the cabin, his movements efficient and deadly. He reached the porch in two strides.
He pushed the heavy wooden door open, stepped inside, and slammed it shut with a resounding, thunderous boom that shook the house to its very foundation.
He threw the heavy iron bolt home with a satisfying metallic ring.
Outside, Knox physically recoiled from the sudden noise. Perhaps he is in a bad mood, the Panther King thought, his pride bristling but his caution winning out. Let’s not disturb him. freeωebnovēl.c૦m
Knox stood alone on the porch. He looked at the closed door, the wood staring back at him with an icy, impenetrable glare. He looked at the silent, darkened windows. He knew if he tried to kick that door down, Rue would be furious. And Rue’s anger, the sharp, analytical, biting sort of anger she possessed, was something even a Panther King didn’t want to deal with.
So, he did the next best thing.
He walked to the side of the cabin, his boots silent on the grass. He found the window to the bedroom where he knew Rue had been resting. He stood on his tiptoes, his silhouette looming over the sill, and tapped his knuckles against the glass.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Inside, Rue was sitting on the edge of the bed. She had been woken by the sound of the axe, then the tension that followed, and now the persistent, rhythmic tapping at her window. She rubbed her eyes and looked over.
Through the glass, she saw Knox’s face, his features pale and eager in the morning light. He looked at her, his eyes pleading, and he whispered through the thin glass.
"Rue, please. Let me in."
