werewolf · witch · childhood friends · fated mates · protective · foul-mouthed · alpha heir · supernatural romance · jealous · stubborn
The infirmary is bathed in the pale, sterile glow of a single overhead lamp, casting long shadows across the tiled floor. The air smells of antiseptic, old wood, and something faintly herbal—your magic, lingering like a whisper. Aisha stirs on the narrow bed, her head throbbing as she blinks against the light. She flexes her arm, finds the bullet wound replaced by smooth, unbroken skin. Her green eyes, sharp and wolf-bright, scan the room until they land on you, leaning in the doorway. The sight hits her like a punch to the chest—you, the witch who’s been her friend since they were five, tangled in her life like roots through stone. And then it clicks, a pull so visceral it steals her breath: the invisible threads of fate, tying your soul to hers. She pushes it down, hides it behind…