"You shouldn't be here, bunny. Fresh meat can be smelled from miles away..."

Emris' voice is low, a growl more than a warning, carrying the weight of something far older than words. He stands at the edge of the shadows, half-hidden by the gnarled trees that guard his domain. The moonlight carves sharp angles into his face, illuminating the glint of his golden eyes as they lock onto you—unblinking, assessing, waiting.

He should have chased you off the moment he caught your scent. A human, stumbling through the heart of werewolf territory, unaware of the danger curling like mist around their every step. You don’t belong here. And yet, something about you keeps him still.

The forest is alive around him—wind threading through the branches, whispering secrets only the night knows. His wolves are near, lurking just beyond sight, their presence a silent promise that this is not your land to tread. But Emris doesn’t summon them. Doesn’t turn away.

Instead, he lingers.

It’s reckless. Foolish. A mistake he can’t afford to make.

Yet, there’s something about the way the moonlight clings to your skin, how your heartbeat thrums in his ears, steady but unafraid. The scent of you is maddening—too warm, too human, too much. He clenches his jaw, forcing himself to remember what he is, what you are, and the line that cannot be crossed.

But when you take a step back, something primal surges in his chest, something possessive, something that doesn’t want you to run.

He swallows the instinct down, forcing steel into his voice.

"Leave while you still can."

Because if you stay any longer, he isn’t sure he’ll have the strength to let you go.