Title: The Silent Neighbor
Author: Kassfinol
Genre: Paranormal Romance
All rights reserved
Chapter 1: The Move
The house smelled of old wood and broken promises.
Maya dropped the last box onto the worn plank floor and allowed herself a sigh that echoed in the empty space. Three months of insomnia had brought her here: a cottage in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by pines so tall they blocked the sunlight even at noon. The real estate agent had sold her “peace and quiet.” What Maya needed was to sleep without the city noise reminding her of everything she had lost.
The divorce. The creative block. The certainty that at thirty-two she had already wasted her only chance to write something that mattered.
—At least there’s no traffic here —she murmured, although her voice sounded pathetic even to her.
While she was putting the bed together, she saw movement through the window.
A man crossed the clearing between the trees with long, deliberate steps. Tall. Broad shoulders under a dark flannel shirt. He wore his black hair tied back in a low ponytail, and something in the way he moved —fluid, silent, as if he measured every step— made Maya freeze behind the glass.
He stopped.
He didn’t turn his head. He didn’t make any obvious gesture. But Maya knew he had sensed her. A shiver ran down her spine when the man resumed his walk and disappeared among the pines without looking back.
“Your nearest neighbor is two kilometers away,” the agent had said.
Maya drew the curtain.
The first night was worse than any in the city.
The silence was so dense that Maya could hear her own breathing, the rustling of the sheets, the erratic beating of her heart. She had taken melatonin. Valerian tea. Nothing worked. At three in the morning, she gave up and opened her laptop, determined to at least try to write something.
The cursor blinked on the blank screen.
Blinked.
And blinked.
She closed the laptop harder than necessary.
That’s when she heard the howl.
Deep, guttural, too close. Maya jumped up and ran to the window. The full moon turned the forest into a landscape of silver and shadows. She saw nothing. But the sound repeated, this time answered by another farther away. Wolves. It had to be wolves. Weren’t there wolves in this area? The agent hadn’t mentioned wolves.
Maya double-checked that the door was locked.
She saw him again on the third day.
She had gone out for a run —an activity she detested, but that was supposedly good for insomnia— when she found him on the path bordering her property. This time she couldn’t avoid seeing him face to face.
Beautiful was an insufficient word.
He had the kind of face Maya had tried to describe hundreds of times in her novels and always failed at: sharp angles, strong jaw, full lips that seemed sculpted for saying cruel things or kissing brutally. But it was his eyes that left her breathless. Golden. Not brown with amber glints, not hazel in the right light. Golden. Like old coins. Like warnings.
—Hi —Maya managed to say, because she had grown up being polite even when every instinct screamed at her to step back.
He observed her in silence for three eternal seconds.
—You should run earlier —he finally said. His voice was deep, rough, as if he didn’t use it often—. Or later. But not now.
—Excuse me?
—Dusk. It’s not safe.
And without saying anything else, he walked past her with that unsettling grace, leaving a trail of pine scent and something wilder that Maya couldn’t identify.
She stood in the middle of the path, her heart beating too fast for someone who had barely run two kilometers.
What the hell just happened?
Maya started watching him.
Not intentionally. Or so she told herself. But her cottage had a perfect view of the clearing, and he crossed that clearing every night just after dark. Always alone. Always in those same dark clothes. Always disappearing in the opposite direction from any known path.
One night, she saw him take off his shirt.
Maya should have looked away. She should have closed the curtain, made tea, pretended her life hadn’t been reduced to spying on a stranger from the window like a pathetic stalker. But the moon was full again, and the silver light turned his skin into something almost unreal. Defined muscles under the surface. An irregular scar running from his shoulder to his hip.
He abruptly raised his head, looking straight at her window.
Maya dropped to the floor as if she’d been shot, her face burning with shame. She waited five minutes before daring to peek again.
He was still there, motionless, watching her house.
Then he smiled. A slow curve, without humor, that showed teeth too white from a distance.
And he walked into the forest.
The first time she spoke to him was by accident.
Maya had gone to the only general store in town —a run-down building that sold everything from groceries to car parts— and found him choosing coffee in aisle three. He wore a hoodie that partially hid his face, but she recognized the line of his jaw, the way he occupied the space as if it owed him apologies.
—Hi —said Maya, because apparently her brain had decided to sabotage her.
He visibly tensed before turning.
—Hi.
An awkward silence settled between them. Maya desperately searched for something normal to say, something that wasn’t “Why do your eyes glow in the dark?” or “Do you always smell of forest and danger?”
—I’m Maya. I moved into the Hartleys’ cottage.
—I know.
More silence.
—And you are…
—León.
León. Of course. Because the universe had a twisted sense of humor.
—Pleased to meet you —Maya lied.
He observed her with an intensity that should be illegal in a public space.
—You shouldn’t be here —he finally said.
Maya blinked.
—In the general store?
—In the forest. In this house. In this town. —He took a step toward her, and Maya had to repress the impulse to step back—. You should go back to the city. Sell the property. Leave while you can.
—Excuse me, what?
—It’s advice.
—It’s shitty advice —Maya retorted, feeling surprise turn into irritation—. I don’t know you. I don’t know who you think you are to tell me where I should or shouldn’t live, but—
He growled.
Growled.
It wasn’t a human sound. It was low, guttural, a warning Maya felt vibrate in her bones. His golden eyes seemed to shine more intensely under the hood.
—Stay away from me —said León, with a voice that now sounded more beastly than human—. And from the forest. And from all of this. I’m not safe. This isn’t safe. You…
He stopped abruptly, as if the words had betrayed him.
Then he put the coffee back on the shelf, turned around, and walked out of the general store with steps so fast he almost seemed to be fleeing.
Maya stood paralyzed between aisle three and her own fractured conclusions, her heart pounding against her ribs.
What the hell just happened?
That night, Maya couldn’t sleep.
Not from her usual insomnia. But because every sound of the forest —every cracking branch, every distant howl— made her jump. She had taken two valerian capsules and half a glass of wine, but her mind kept replaying the scene in the general store.
Growled.
León had growled like an animal.
And his eyes…
Maya got up and went to the window. The moon was almost full again. In three days it would be completely full. She had started noticing it because the howls always intensified during those nights.
The clearing was empty.
But there was something at the edge of the forest. A shadow denser than the others. Maya squinted, trying to make it out…
The shadow moved.
And for a second —a second of absolute madness— Maya could have sworn she saw a wolf the size of a bear watching her house.
She closed the curtains with trembling hands.
You need to sleep. You need to actually sleep. This is what happens when you’ve gone three months without a full night’s sleep.
But when she finally got into bed, the only thing she could see when she closed her eyes were León’s golden eyes, shining in the darkness like warning coins.
Like promises of things that shouldn’t exist.
Like the kind of truth Maya had spent her whole life writing about, but praying never to find.
Chapter 2: The Attraction
Maya tried to keep her distance.
She tried for exactly four days.
Four days of not going out for a run at dusk. Of not peeking out the window when she heard footsteps in the clearing. Of convincing herself that León was just an antisocial neighbor with socialization problems and strangely reflective eyes, and that she definitely wasn’t obsessed with a man who had growled at her in the aisle of a general store.
On the fifth day, she found him unconscious on her porch.
It was six in the morning. Maya had spent another sleepless night and had gone out to look for the newspaper that never arrived, when she saw the body slumped against her door. For one eternal second, she thought he was dead. Then she saw the almost imperceptible rise of his chest.
—Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
She knelt beside him. León’s face was pale, his lips cracked, and his shirt was torn in several places. When Maya tried to move him to check whether he had wounds, he growled softly —that sound again, half human, half something else— and his eyes snapped open.
Golden. Wild. Disoriented.
—No —he exhaled, trying to move away from her even in his weakened state—. No… you shouldn’t…
—You’re hurt.
—Go away.
—You’re on my porch, hurt, and I’m not going anywhere. —Maya said it with more firmness than she felt—. Can you walk?
—Don’t touch me.
—Perfect. Then I’ll call an ambulance.
—No.
The word came out like an order, loaded with genuine panic. León tried to sit up, and that’s when Maya saw the blood. A lot of blood. Soaking his side, darkening the fabric of his shirt.
—Oh my God…
—I’ll go. —His voice sounded weak now, broken—. Just… just give me a minute and I’ll go.
But when he tried to stand up, his legs gave out.
Maya caught him by pure instinct, her small hands holding him as best they could. He was pure muscle and dead weight, too big for her, but somehow she managed to keep him half upright.
—Inside —she said—. Now.
—Maya…
—Inside, León. Or I’ll drag you myself, and believe me, neither of us wants that.
For a moment, he just observed her. There was something in his expression Maya couldn’t decipher. Surprise? Fear? Resignation?
Finally he nodded.
Getting him to the couch was torture for both of them.
León tried to bear his own weight, but kept stumbling. Maya ended up with her arm around his waist, feeling the feverish heat of his skin through the torn shirt, the smell of blood and forest and something musky that tickled her nose.
When she finally deposited him on the couch, Maya was panting.
—Don’t move —she ordered, although it was unnecessary. León looked about to faint again—. I’ll get the first aid kit.
—It won’t help.
—Shut up.
She ran to her bathroom and came back with medical supplies that were probably expired, but it was the best she had. León had closed his eyes, his jaw tense with pain.
—I need to see the wound —said Maya, calmer than she felt.
—No.
—We’re not negotiating.
He opened one eye to look at her.
—You’re stubborn.
—And you’re bleeding on my couch. —Maya grabbed the edge of his shirt—. I can cut it off or you can take it off. Your choice.
A tense silence. Then, with painfully slow movements, León took off his shirt.
Maya had to make a conscious effort not to stare.
She had already seen him shirtless that night from the window, but this was different. This was intimate. Being inches from that chest marked with old scars, seeing the lines of muscle under tanned skin, the way his breathing made his abdomen contract…
Focus, Maya. There’s an open wound. Focus on the damn wound.
Except when she finally saw the wound, her brain stopped completely.
They were claws.
Four deep lines running from his right side almost to his hip. The kind of marks a large animal would leave. A bear, perhaps. Or something worse.
—What did this to you?
—It doesn’t matter.
—León…
—It doesn’t matter. —His voice was firm now, final—. Just… clean it. I’ll be fine.
Maya wasn’t sure about that, but she started working anyway. She cleaned the blood with surprisingly steady hands, applied antiseptic that made León hiss through his teeth, bandaged the wounds as best she could.
Throughout the process, he didn’t take his eyes off her.
Maya could feel his gaze like a physical weight. Hot. Intense. Full of unspoken things that made her skin tingle.
—Why did you come here? —she finally asked, while securing the last bandage—. To my house, specifically.
León took a while to answer.
—I don’t know.
—Lie.
A bitter smile curved his lips.
—I shouldn’t be near you. I know. But your light was on and I… —He stopped, as if the words cost him physically—. I needed to know you were okay.
Maya’s heart gave a stupid lurch.
—You don’t know me.
—I know.
—And you’ve been a complete jerk to me.
—I know.
—Then why…?
—Because I can’t help it. —León’s eyes shone with something that might have been rage or desperation—. Believe me, Maya, I’ve tried to stay away. I’ve tried everything. But every time I hear your heart beating through the forest, every time I smell your perfume on the wind, every damn time I see you… —He closed his eyes hard—. I should go. Right now. Before it’s too late.
—Too late for what?
He opened his eyes, and Maya saw his answer before he spoke.
For both of us.
The air between them changed. It became dense, charged, electric. Maya was too close. She could see the dark flecks in his golden irises, the small scar above his left eyebrow, the way his lips parted slightly when she leaned in without realizing…
A howl tore through the silence.
Close. Too close.
León tensed instantly, every muscle turning into steel cables.
—Shit.
—What was that?
—I need to go. —He tried to get up, but Maya pushed him down.
—You just lost half a liter of blood. You’re not going anywhere.
—You don’t understand…
Another howl, answered by two more. Closer now. Maya felt the hair on her arms stand up.
—León, what’s going on?
He looked at her with a mix of panic and resignation.
—Lock the doors. The windows. Everything. And don’t go out no matter what you hear.
—That doesn’t answer my question.
—Maya. —He grabbed her wrist with a strength that should hurt but only felt desperate—. Please. Just this once, listen to me without questioning. Lock yourself in and don’t go out.
The howls multiplied. Five. Six. Too many to count.
And then Maya heard something she would never forget: among the animal sounds, there was a scream. Human. Distorted. Full of pain.
—Oh my God…
León rose from the couch with an agility that completely contradicted his condition. His face had changed. He was no longer the exhausted man from a moment ago. He was something darker. More dangerous.
—Promise me you’ll stay here.
—León…
—Promise me.
Maya didn’t know what made her nod. Fear, maybe. Or the way he looked at her, as if her answer were the only thing between life and death.
—Okay. I promise.
He nodded once, stiffly. Then he headed for the door.
—Wait. —Maya ran to the kitchen and came back with a hunting knife she had found in the basement—. At least take this.
León observed the knife, then her, and something in his expression softened for a second.
—It won’t help —he said softly—. But thank you.
And he went out into the night.
Maya ran to the window just in time to see him walk into the forest. The howls exploded into a chaotic chorus. There were screams. Growls. Sounds of fighting that made Maya cover her ears.
And then, silence.
A silence so absolute it was worse than the noise.
Maya stood by the window, trembling, her hands pressed against the cold glass, waiting. Praying. Without even knowing why.
Come back. Please, come back.
But the night only returned silence to her.
And the fear that she had just met someone extraordinary in time to lose him.
Chapter 3: The Truth in the Skin
León didn’t come back that night.
Nor the next one.
Maya spent forty-eight hours in a state of feverish wakefulness that had nothing to do with her chronic insomnia. Every sound of the forest made her jump. Every shadow moving between the trees quickened her pulse. She had cleaned the blood off her couch three times, as if erasing the evidence could somehow undo whatever had happened.
On the third day, she went looking for him.
It was a stupid decision. Impulsive. Exactly the kind of shit her own characters did in her novels and that she always criticized as “too convenient for the plot.” But Maya was tired of waiting, tired of feeling afraid. And, if she was honest with herself, worried in a way that made no sense for someone she barely knew.
The forest was silent.
Not the normal silence of nature, with birds and cracking branches. But an unnatural silence. As if something had scared away everything alive.
Maya followed the path she had seen León take, with her phone in one hand and pepper spray in the other. Both felt ridiculously inadequate.
She found him half a kilometer from her house.
He was lying next to a fallen tree, unconscious again, with new wounds that made the earlier ones look like scratches. This time it wasn’t just claws. There were bite marks. Deep. Bleeding. And something that looked like a bullet wound in his shoulder.
—No, no, no, no… —Maya knelt beside him, her hands trembling—. León. León, wake up. Please.
Nothing.
She checked his pulse. It was there, but weak. Too weak.
I can’t carry him alone. He’s too big. I need help. I need…
León’s eyes opened.
—I told you… —he coughed, and blood stained his lips— to stay… at home.
—And I’ve never been good at following instructions. —Maya tried to sound defiant, but her voice broke—. Can you walk?
—No.
—Good. Then I’m going to call an ambulance.
—No. —His hand caught Maya’s wrist with surprising strength—. No hospital. They can’t… they won’t understand…
—León, you’re dying.
—I’ve been worse.
—That’s not as reassuring as you think.
Despite everything, he smiled. It was a small, painful smile, but real.
—Your house —he said—. Take me to your house. I’ll be fine.
—That’s literally impossible…
—Maya. —The way he said her name, hoarse and pleading, made something break in her chest—. Please.
Damn it.
—Okay. But if you die on my couch again, I’m going to be very upset.
It took over an hour to drag him back.
León tried to help, leaning on her as much as he could, but he kept stumbling. He kept losing consciousness for seconds before forcing himself to wake up. By the time they reached the house, Maya was exhausted and he was paler than a corpse.
She dropped him on the couch without gentleness. She no longer cared about being careful.
—I need to see the wounds —she said, with a voice that admitted no argument.
This time, León didn’t protest.
Maya cut away what was left of his shirt. The wounds were worse than she had thought. The claw marks on his side had reopened. The bites on his arm were deep, some down to the bone. And the bullet wound…
—Who shot you?
—Hunters.
—What?
—They thought I was… —León stopped, his jaw tense—. It doesn’t matter.
—All of this matters, León. All of it. —Maya cleaned the blood around the bullet wound, trying not to think about how much it must hurt—. What the hell is going on? Why are there hunters shooting at you? Why do you have claw marks that look like they’re from a giant animal? Why do your eyes glow in the dark? Why…?
—Because I’m not human.
The words fell between them like stones.
Maya froze, her hands still on his bloody chest.
—What?
—Not completely. —León closed his eyes, as if he couldn’t bear to see her reaction—. I’m a werewolf, Maya. And everything I told you about staying away from me, about it not being safe, was true. I should have run the first time I saw you. But I couldn’t. And now…
—Now you’re delirious from blood loss.
—I wish.
Maya stepped back. Then another step. Her back hit the wall.
Werewolf. He said werewolf. This is madness. This is…
But then she remembered the howls that didn’t sound entirely animal. The glowing eyes. The wounds that were too deep, too strange. The way he moved, too fluid, too predatory.
—No —she whispered.
—I should go.
—No.
—Maya…
—No. —She forced herself to come closer again, her legs trembling—. You’re not going. You’re going to stay here and let me heal you, and then you’re going to explain everything to me. But first, I’m going to get that damn bullet out of your shoulder before you bleed to death.
—You don’t have to…
—Shut up.
She worked in silence for the next hour.
Extracting the bullet was torture. Maya had no anesthesia, no proper tools, only kitchen tweezers sterilized with vodka and stubborn determination. León didn’t scream. Not once. He just gritted his teeth and let her do her work.
When she finally pulled the metal fragment out and dropped it into a plate with a metallic sound, Maya was trembling.
—There —she whispered.
—Thank you.
She bandaged the wounds as best she could. Her hands moved automatically now, following the motions without really thinking about them. Because if she thought, if she allowed herself to process what León had said…
—Is it true? —The question came out small, scared—. Are you really…?
—Yes.
—Show me.
León’s eyes snapped open.
—No.
—I need to see it.
—I don’t want to scare you more than I already have.
—León. —Maya knelt beside the couch, at eye level with him—. I already told you. I already know. But I need… I need to see it. Do you understand? I need to know this is real and not some hallucination from my lack of sleep.
He observed her for a long time. Then, slowly, he raised his hand.
Maya watched his fingers lengthen. How dark nails grew until they became claws. How black fur sprouted from his skin like a wave.
She forced herself not to step back. She forced herself to keep looking.
When León lowered his hand —human again, as if nothing had happened— Maya realized she had been holding her breath.
—God —she exhaled—. It’s real.
—I’m sorry.
—Why?
—For dragging you into this. For not being able to stay away. For… —His voice broke—. For making you see something that will give you nightmares.
Maya looked at him. Really looked at him. The wounds she was healing at an impossible speed. The golden eyes she now understood weren’t just unusual. The man who had repeatedly tried to push her away and then risked his life facing… whatever he had faced.
—You don’t give me nightmares —she finally said—. You give me questions. A lot of questions. But not nightmares.
—Maya…
—Shut up. —She leaned in to check the bandages again, needing to do something with her hands—. Now you’re going to rest. And tomorrow, when you’re better, you’re going to tell me everything. Understood?
A small smile curved León’s lips.
—You’re bossy.
—And you’re an injured werewolf on my couch. We’re in no position to judge.
He laughed, then winced in pain.
—Don’t do that —said Maya—. Don’t make me feel bad for being funny.
—Too late.
The silence that followed was different from the previous ones. Softer. Charged with something Maya didn’t want to name yet.
—You should sleep —León finally said—. You look exhausted.
—And leave you alone? No.
—I’ll be fine.
—That’s for me to decide, not you.
Another smile.
—Stubborn.
—We already established that.
Maya settled into the armchair next to the couch, wrapping herself in a blanket. From there she could watch him. Make sure he kept breathing. That his wounds weren’t miraculously getting worse.
That he didn’t disappear.
—Maya —said León, his eyes already closed—. Thank you. For not running. For… everything.
—Don’t thank me yet. When you recover, I’m going to have a lot of very annoying questions.
—I hope so.
And for the first time in three months, Maya felt the insomnia that had chased her begin to loosen. Not because she was less tired. But because there was something more important than sleep.
There was someone who needed her to stay awake.
Who was worth staying awake for.
Chapter 4: The Point of No Return
León healed too fast.
Maya had seen enough Grey’s Anatomy to know that a bullet wound didn’t close at that speed; that deep bites didn’t disappear like nothing, but there he was, in her kitchen, helping her make coffee as if he hadn’t been dying forty-eight hours ago.
—This isn’t normal —said Maya, observing the new skin where there had once been an open wound.
—No. —León poured coffee into two cups—. It isn’t.
They had established a strange routine. León slept on the couch, although Maya suspected he didn’t really sleep. She worked on her writing during the day, or tried to, because now her creative block seemed ridiculous compared to the fact that there was a werewolf in her living room. They cooked together. They talked.
God, they talked so much.
León told her about his pack. About how they had expelled him for refusing to take part in something he called “the hunt.” About the wolves that had attacked him in the forest, former packmates who now wanted him dead for being a deserter. About the loneliness of living between two worlds without fully belonging to either.
Maya told him about her divorce. About her ex-husband who had told her that her writing was “a cute hobby, but unrealistic.” About the creative block that had brought her here. About the feeling of having wasted her life chasing something she might never reach.
—Your writing isn’t a waste —said León one night, while they washed dishes together—. I’ve read your books.
Maya almost dropped the plate she was drying.
—What?
—I looked up your name online. Maya Cordero. Three published novels. All good.
—You spied on me? —I crossed my arms over my chest.
—I investigated —he shrugged his big shoulders.
—That’s still spying —I pointed at him with my index finger.
He smiled, and Maya felt that pull again. That warmth settling in her stomach every time León was near. That got worse when their hands accidentally brushed. When he looked at her that way, as if she were something precious and dangerous at the same time.
No. I’m not going to fall in love with a werewolf. That’s ridiculous. That’s…
—Maya?
—What?
—I lost you.
She blinked.
—I was just… thinking.
—About?
About you. About how your presence has filled this house in ways I didn’t know I needed. About how now I sleep better knowing you’re in the next room. About how I want to kiss you so much it hurts.
—About nothing —she lied.
León observed her with those golden eyes that seemed to see too much.
—Liar.
—Shut up.
—Make me…
The words hung suspended between them.
Maya should have laughed. She should have made a sarcastic comment. She should have done anything except what she did: close the distance between them in two steps.
León tensed.
—Maya…
—Tell me to stop —she whispered, inches from his face—. If you don’t want this, tell me now and I’ll stop.
—I can’t.
—Can’t what?
—Tell you to stop. Walk away. Do the right thing. —His voice was hoarse, desperate—. I’ve tried to keep my distance, not touch you… But every day you spend caring for me, every time you look at me as if I weren’t a monster, every damn time you smile… Maya, I’m not that strong.
—Then don’t be strong.
She kissed him.
It was tentative at first, almost shy. León’s lips were soft, but firm, and for one eternal second he didn’t respond. Maya started to pull back, mortified, sure she had misread everything…
And then he growled.
Not a warning this time. Of surrender.
His hands found Maya’s waist, pulling her against him with an urgency that stole the air from her lungs. The kiss deepened, became desperate, years of loneliness and hunger condensing into the way their mouths moved together.
Maya tangled her fingers in his hair, feeling how he trembled under her touch. León lifted her effortlessly, sitting her on the kitchen counter, placing himself between her legs.
—This is a bad idea —he gasped against her lips.
—The worst —Maya agreed, kissing him again.
—I’m going to hurt you, I don’t know if I’ll measure my strength.
—You’re not going to… I’m not a weakling.
—You don’t know what I’m like when…
—I know exactly what you are. —Maya made him look at her, her hands on his face—. And I don’t care.
—You should care.
—But I don’t.
León closed his eyes, as if those words hurt him physically.
—I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.
—Good thing I’m not asking you to deserve anything. —Maya kissed his jaw, his neck, feeling how his pulse quickened under her lips—. I’m just asking you to stay. Here… With me… Tonight.
She didn’t have to say the words, the message was implicit.
—Maya…
—Yes or no, León?
He opened his eyes. There was something wild in them now, something that should have scared Maya, but only made her want more.
—Yes —he said, with a voice that was more growl than word—. God, yes.
He carried her to the bedroom.
There was no rush this time. León placed her on the bed as if she were something fragile, even though they both knew Maya was probably the most stubborn and strong person he had ever met. Then he stood at the foot of the bed, watching her.
—Come here —said Maya, extending a hand.
He obeyed.
He knelt between her legs, his hands tracing lines of fire from her ankles to her thighs. Maya arched her back when he kissed her stomach over her T-shirt, when his fingers found the edge of her pajama pants.
—Sure? —asked León, his eyes shining in the dim light.
—Completely.
What followed was slow. Deliberate. León undressed her with a reverence that made Maya feel like she was melting. Every garment he removed was followed by kisses, by caresses that made her tremble. When they were finally skin to skin, Maya thought she was going to explode from the tension.
—You’re beautiful —León murmured against her neck—. So beautiful it hurts to look at you.
—Then don’t look. —Maya turned him, reversing their positions with an agility that made him growl—. Feel.
And so it was.
Maya explored every inch of his body. The scars that told stories he hadn’t told her yet. The muscles that tensed under her touch. The way his breathing hitched when she kissed exactly the right spot.
When they finally joined, it was like coming home.
León moved with careful restraint, as if he were afraid of breaking her. But Maya didn’t want care. She wanted everything.
—I’m not going to break —she gasped, her nails digging into his back—. Let go, León.
—I can’t… if I lose control…
—Trust me.
Those three words were his undoing.
León growled —that sound Maya now recognized as completely his— and surrendered. He moved deeper, harder, with an intensity that made Maya see stars. It wasn’t gentle. It was real. Two broken people meeting in the darkness and creating something whole.
When Maya reached her climax, arching against him with a scream she muffled into his shoulder, León followed seconds later, his final growl vibrating through her whole body, primitive and perfect.
Afterwards, they stayed tangled together.
León held her as if she were something precious, his face buried in her hair. Maya could feel his heart beating against her back, wild and erratic.
—This changes everything —he whispered.
—I know.
—There’s no going back from this.
—Good. —Maya turned in his arms to look at him—. I don’t want to go back.
He kissed her. Soft this time, almost sweet.
—What did I do to deserve you?
—You bled on my couch… not once… Twice.
León laughed, and the sound filled something in Maya’s chest she hadn’t known was empty.
—I’m going to protect you —he said, turning serious again—. From everything. From my pack, from anything that comes. I swear it.
—León…
—Let me do this. Let me be this for you.
Maya wanted to argue. She wanted to say she could take care of herself, that she didn’t need protection, that she was an independent twenty-first-century woman who…
But the truth was simpler.
The truth was that she wanted to let him. She wanted him to be hers as much as she was starting to be his.
—Okay —she whispered—. But only if you let me protect you too.
He smiled against her forehead.
—Deal.
They fell asleep like that, tangled and complete.
And for the first time in months, Maya slept the whole night.
Without dreams. Without nightmares.
Only the feeling of being exactly where she was supposed to be.
Maya woke at dawn.
The gray light of sunrise came through the window, painting the room in soft tones. León was still asleep, with a heavy arm over her waist, his deep, even breathing against her neck.
He looked different asleep, younger, less tired.
Maya was studying the lines of his face when she noticed something.
The scar on his side, the one from the deep claws she had bandaged just a few days ago, was disappearing.
Not “healing.” Disappearing.
As she watched, the deepest line became paler, then pink, then… nothing… New skin, smooth, as if he had never been hurt.
God. It’s real. All of it is real.
As if he felt her gaze, León opened his eyes.
—Hi —he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.
—Hi —she smiled.
—How long have you been awake?
—Long enough to watch you heal at science-fiction speed. —Maya traced the place where the scar had been—. It’s fascinating.
—It’s unsettling.
—That too.
León caught her hand, kissing her knuckles.
—Do you regret any of this?
—What? Sleeping with a werewolf? —Maya pretended to think—. No. Although maybe I should add it to my résumé. “Unique experiences: the supernatural.”
He laughed, and Maya felt the sound like a victory.
—You’re ridiculous.
—And you’re too serious.
—Someone has to be.
Maya was about to answer when she heard the howl.
Distant. But unmistakable.
León tensed immediately, transforming from a relaxed man into an alert predator in a second.
—You need to get dressed —he said, already getting out of bed—. Now.
—What’s happening?
—The pack. —His voice was hard—. They’re close.
Fear settled in Maya’s stomach.
—What do they want?
León looked at her, and she saw the answer in his eyes before he spoke.
Me. They’re coming for me.
And they won’t stop until they finish what they started.
Chapter 5: The Pack
León got dressed in seconds.
Maya was still looking for her pants when he was already at the door, every muscle tense and his eyes fixed on the forest.
—Stay inside —he ordered.
—Like hell I will.
—Maya…
—If you think I’m going to sit here while you… —She stopped, not even knowing how to finish that sentence. While he fought? While he died?—. No.
—It’s not negotiable.
—You’re right. It isn’t. —Maya finished getting dressed and went to her closet, taking out the shotgun she had found on the first day. She wasn’t even sure it worked, but it was better than nothing—. I’m coming with you.
León turned so fast Maya almost stepped back.
—Absolutely not.
—Don’t tell me what to do.
—They’re going to kill you!
—And you too!
Silence fell between them, charged and heavy.
León closed his eyes, his jaw clenched so hard Maya could see the muscles working.
—I can’t protect you if you’re out there —he finally said, with a voice that sounded broken—. If something happens to you, if they hurt you…
—You won’t be able to protect me if you’re dead. —Maya loaded the shotgun with hands that only trembled a little—. And maybe, just maybe, I can help.
—You’re human.
—And you’re hurt. Your wounds healed, but you’ve spent days healing, I suppose you’re still exhausted. —She approached him, the shotgun hanging from her hand—. Let me do this. Let me be here.
Another howl tore through the air. Closer.
León looked at her for one eternal second.
—If I tell you to run, you run. No questions. Understood?
—León…
—Understood?
Maya nodded, although they both knew it was a lie.
—Good. —He opened the door—. Stay behind me. Whatever happens.
The forest had changed.
Maya felt it the moment they went out. The air was denser, charged with something electric and dangerous. The trees seemed to lean toward them, the shadows moving with a life of their own.
And then she saw them.
Five wolves emerged from the forest.
They weren’t normal wolves. They were enormous, the size of bears, with fur ranging from gray to black, eyes shining with human intelligence and animal malice. The one in front was the largest, with a scar crossing its snout.
León growled. A low, guttural sound that made the hair on Maya’s arms stand up.
The wolves stopped twenty meters away, forming a semicircle. The leader took a step forward, and Maya could have sworn it smiled.
Then it transformed.
It was horrible and fascinating at the same time. The bones cracked, the skin stretched, the fur retracted. In less than ten seconds, where a massive wolf had been there was now a man. Tall, muscular, with the same gray hair as the fur and eyes that were still too animal.
—León —he said, with a voice that scraped like gravel—. Looks like you found a very good place to hide.
—Marcos. —León didn’t move, but Maya felt the tension radiating from him—. Leave her out of this.
—The human? —Marcos looked at Maya with something that might have been curiosity or hunger—. She’s pretty. I understand the temptation.
—Don’t touch her.
—Ohhh, whaaat? —Marcos smiled, showing teeth too sharp—. Are you going to stop me? You, who couldn’t even complete a simple hunt. You, who betrayed us for… what? Conscience?
—I left. That should be enough.
—It’s not enough. —Another of the wolves transformed, a woman with black hair and ice-cold eyes—. You betrayed the pack, León… you know, you know that has consequences.
—I’ve already paid my consequences. The scars you gave me are proof.
—Those were just warnings. —Marcos took another step forward—. This is the sentence.
León transformed so fast Maya barely saw it.
One second he was human, the next he was a massive wolf with fur black as night, even bigger than Marcos. He placed himself between Maya and the pack, his fangs bared in a clear threat.
Back, his posture seemed to say. She’s mine.
Marcos laughed.
—Are you going to fight for her? For a human who can’t even understand what you are?
Maya raised the shotgun.
—I understand perfectly what he is —she said, with a voice firmer than she felt—. And if you take one more step closer, you’ll understand perfectly what a shotgun blast is.
The five wolves looked at her. Then, one by one, they began to laugh.
—Oh, this is adorable —said the woman—. She thinks she can scare us.
—She thinks that weapon is going to make any difference —added another, transforming too. A young man with golden eyes like León’s—. Bullets don’t kill us, little human.
—Then I guess I’ll have to aim well. —Maya aimed directly at Marcos—. Maybe it won’t kill you. But I bet it hurts like hell.
A tense silence fell.
Then Marcos smiled.
—I like her. It’s a shame she has to die.
Everything happened too fast.
Marcos transformed into a blur of movement. León jumped to intercept him, and the two collided in the air with a sound that made the ground tremble. The other wolves scattered, surrounding them, looking for openings.
Maya fired.
The recoil almost knocked her to the ground, but the shot hit its mark. One of the wolves howled in pain, retreating with a bleeding wound on its front leg.
—RUN! —León roared, although his voice sounded distorted, half human, half wolf.
—NO!
Maya reloaded and fired again. This shot missed, but it was enough to make two of the wolves stop, as if recalculating their next moves.
León and Marcos were tearing each other apart. Claws against claws, fangs against fangs, brutal force against brutal force, blood staining the ground. Both were wounded, but neither gave in.
The she-wolf lunged at Maya.
There was no time to reload. Maya used the shotgun like a bat, hitting her on the snout with all her strength. The wolf recoiled, more surprised than hurt, and that gave Maya the second she needed to run toward the house.
She didn’t make it.
Claws caught her from behind, knocking her down. Maya screamed as the pain exploded through her shoulder. She rolled, raising the shotgun to block the jaws closing toward her throat.
And then León was there.
He threw himself on the she-wolf with a fury Maya had never seen. It wasn’t a fight. It was carnage. León tore, ripped, destroyed until the she-wolf retreated howling, bleeding from a dozen wounds.
But that left his back exposed.
Marcos took advantage. He jumped, claws extended, aiming straight at León’s spine.
Maya didn’t think.
She threw herself at him.
She crashed into Marcos just as his claws grazed León’s fur, deflecting the blow enough for it to miss. Both —Maya and Marcos— fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs.
The wolf transformed beneath her, becoming human, his hands closing around Maya’s neck.
—Stupid —he hissed—. Brave, but stupid.
Maya’s lungs screamed for air, her vision began to blur, she could hear León roaring, but it sounded very far away…
A shot rang out.
Marcos screamed, letting go of her, his shoulder exploding in blood. Maya coughed, gasping, turning her head to see…
León. Human again. Holding Maya’s shotgun with hands trembling with fury and fear.
—Stay away —he said, with a voice that was pure venom—. From her.
The remaining wolves froze.
Marcos dragged himself backward, holding his shattered shoulder, his eyes wild.
—This doesn’t end here —he spat.
—Yes. —León aimed the weapon directly at his head—. Yes, it does. Here and now. I’m not going to run anymore, I’m not willing to keep hiding… And if any of you ever touches her again, if any of you even thinks about hurting her, I’m going to hunt you down one by one until nothing is left of this pack. Do you understand me?
Silence.
—I said, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?
The final roar was half human, half wolf, and completely terrifying.
One by one, the wolves retreated.
Marcos was the last to move, hatred burning in his eyes.
—You’re a traitor —he said—. And traitors always pay.
—Then I guess we’ll see each other soon. —León didn’t lower the weapon—. But next time, I won’t aim for the shoulder.
It took five full minutes for the pack to withdraw into the forest. Five minutes in which León didn’t move, didn’t breathe, only watched until the last trace of them disappeared.
Then he dropped the weapon and ran to Maya.
—Are you okay? God, please tell me you’re okay.
—I’m… —Maya coughed, touching her neck where she knew there would be bruises—. I’m okay.
—I told you to run.
—And I told you I wasn’t going to.
—You almost died!
—So did you!
León looked at her, his golden eyes shining with emotion, and then he did something completely unexpected.
He laughed.
It was a rough laugh, almost hysterical, but real.
—You’re impossible —he said, pulling her into his arms carefully, so as not to touch her injured shoulder—. Completely, absolutely impossible.
—I know. —Maya buried herself in his chest, inhaling his scent of forest and blood and home—. But you saved me.
—No. —León kissed her head—. You saved me. When you deflected Marcos, when… —His voice broke—. Don’t ever do that again. My heart couldn’t take it, I can’t lose you.
—Deal. If you don’t go fight five wolves alone again either.
—Deal.
They stayed like that, clinging to each other, while the sun rose over the forest. Maya could feel León’s heart beating against her cheek, wild and alive.
Alive. We’re both alive.
—We need to heal your shoulder —León finally said.
—We need to heal all of you. —Maya pulled away enough to see the dozens of cuts and bites covering his body—. You’re in pieces.
—I’ll heal, just give me time.
—I still can’t get used to that, it’s too unreal.
He smiled, and it was like watching the sun after a storm.
—Good. It means I still surprise you.
Maya looked at him. Really looked at him. This man —this wolf— who had fought his own pack to protect her. Who had put his life on the line without hesitation. Who looked at her as if she were the most valuable thing in the whole world.
—I love you —she said, and the words came out as naturally as breathing—. I know it’s too soon, I know it’s crazy, but there’s no reason to keep it quiet. I love you, León.
He froze.
For one terrifying second, Maya thought she had ruined everything. That she had said too much, too fast, that…
—I’ve loved you since the moment you refused to let me die on your porch —said León, his voice hoarse with emotion—. Every day I spent with you, every moment you cared for me, every time you looked at me as if I weren’t a monster… Maya, you’re the best thing that has happened to me in two hundred years.
—Two hundred?
—Later… I’ll explain later. —He kissed her, sweet and deep—. Right now I just need you to know that what we have is real. It’s the most real thing I’ve had in my life, it’s not fantasy, this isn’t a fairy tale.
—Okay. —Maya smiled against his lips—. Fine, I don’t plan on going anywhere anyway.
—Good. Because neither do I.
He carried her back to the house, ignoring her protests that she could walk perfectly well, and they spent the next hour healing each other. León’s wounds were already closing. Maya’s would take longer, but they weren’t as bad as she had feared.
—They’re going to come back —said León while bandaging her shoulder—. Marcos isn’t going to give up that easily.
—I know.
—And when they come back, it’s going to be worse. They’re going to bring more. They’re going to…
—León. —Maya caught his face between her hands—. We’ll face it. Together. Like everything else.
He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch.
—I don’t deserve your bravery.
—Good thing I’m not asking you to deserve it. I’m just asking you to accept it.
And so it was.
In the days that followed, they prepared. León taught Maya about his world: pack hierarchies, the laws that governed them, the ways they could defend themselves. Maya learned it all as if it were a creative writing class, and she taught León that not all humans were the same, that there was also determination, the ability to adapt, the strength that comes from choosing to stay when everything tells you to run.
They built something together. Not perfect. Not easy. But real.
And when the howls echoed in the night, they were no longer just warnings.
They were promises.
That more battles would come.
That there would be more blood.
But also that neither of them would ever be alone again.
Epilogue: Wild Peace
Six months later.
Maya finished writing the last line and leaned back in her chair, looking at the words on the screen.
Three thousand words. In a single session. No block. No doubt.
Just story flowing from her fingers as if it had always been there, waiting.
—Did you finish the chapter?
She looked up to find León in the doorway, with two cups of coffee and that small smile he now gave only to her.
—I finished the book.
—Really?
—Really. —Maya turned the laptop so he could see—. Eighty thousand words. A complete novel about a woman who falls in love with something impossible and decides it’s worth staying anyway.
León put down the coffee and came closer, reading over her shoulder.
—You’re going to have to change some details —he commented—. We don’t want people finding out werewolves are real.
—I already did. In my version, he’s a vampire.
—Even worse —his eyes nearly popped out of his face.
—There’s a whole literary genre that says otherwise.
He laughed, kissing her head.
—I’m proud of you.
—For writing cheap paranormal fiction?
—For finding your voice again. —León turned her chair so she would look at him—. You’ve been brilliant these months. Writing, creating, living. It’s beautiful to see.
Maya felt warmth in her chest. Six months of living with this man, and he could still make her blush with simple words.
—Well, having a werewolf as inspiration… let’s say… mmm… it helps!
—Just inspiration?
—Okay, maybe also as a muse. And occasionally as a research subject. —She winked at him—. Especially for the explicit scenes.
—You’re going to kill me with those scenes.
—That’s the idea.
They kissed, slow and deep, until the coffee went cold, forgotten on the desk.
Outside, the forest whispered with the wind. It no longer sounded threatening. Just… alive. Full of possibilities.
They had had to face the pack two more times. Each time had been brutal, bloody, terrifying. But each time they had won. Together.
Now there was an uneasy truce. Marcos had stopped sending wolves every full moon, although León suspected it was more because of losses than respect. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that they were safe.
For now.
—What are you thinking about? —asked Maya, tracing the line of his jaw.
—That I never imagined this —he admitted—. A quiet life. A partner. A home that isn’t just a place to hide.
—Do you like it?
—It terrifies me how much I like it.
—Good. —Maya smiled—. It means it’s real.
That night, while the full moon rose over the pines, they went out to the clearing together. León transformed —something Maya now watched without fear, only fascination— and ran among the trees. Maya watched him from the porch, a blanket over her shoulders and hot coffee in her hands.
When he returned, human again, shining with sweat and life, he sat beside her on the steps.
—You know what’s the best part of all this? —said Maya.
—What?
—That I came here looking for peace and silence so I could sleep. I ended up finding insomnia for completely different reasons, a werewolf on my couch, fights with packs, and the best story of my life.
—That’s the best part?
—No. —She snuggled against him—. The best part is that I found someone who makes being awake worth more than any dream.
León held her tighter, his face buried in her hair.
—I love you —he murmured—. My stubborn writer. My savior. My home.
—And I love you. —Maya kissed his jaw—. My silent wolf. My guardian. My muse.
They stayed like that while the night grew deeper. The howls echoed in the distance —other wolves, other lives, other stories— but they no longer touched them.
Because they had found something stronger than any pack… they had found each other.
One year later
Maya’s book was published in the spring.
It wasn’t an immediate bestseller. But it found its audience: people who believed in the impossible, who understood that love comes in unexpected forms, who knew that the best stories are the ones that change you.
León accompanied her to her first book signing. He stayed in the back, watching proudly while she talked about inspiration and creativity and finding your voice when you thought you had lost it.
A young reader approached afterwards, the book pressed against her chest.
—Is it real? —she asked, hope shining in her eyes—. The part about finding something wild and deciding to stay?
Maya looked toward León, who smiled from the shadows.
—Every word —she said—. It’s completely real.
Because it was.
Not the part about werewolves and transformations and battles with packs.
But the part about finding someone who sees you completely and decides to stay anyway.
The part about building a life together, one day at a time, even when the world says it’s impossible.
The part about love that is fierce and protective and strong enough to survive anything.
That part was more real than anything Maya had ever written before.
And when they returned home that night, when León carried her over the threshold laughing, when they fell asleep tangled together under the moonlight, Maya knew with absolute certainty:
She hadn’t come back to the city looking for silence.
She had found her own voice.
And the heart of a wolf that beat in rhythm with hers.
The End