No One Touches Me

...Chapter No. Four...

..."No One Touches Me ...

The air in the courtyard changed the second Jenna’s words hit it.

“Every wolf in this tribe would want to mate with you,” Jenna said, voice low but bright with that reckless honesty only best friends are allowed.

She circled Scarlet once, slow, eyes dragging over the denim, the red mouth, the black heels that made Scarlet’s calves look carved from stone.

“I’m serious. Half the unmated males in Garnet Pack are already choking on their own air. You walk out here looking like that and you could have your pick by sunset. Alpha’s daughter or not, you’re the most dangerous thing in this territory right now.”

Scarlet scoffed. The sound was sharp, tired, and older than nineteen. She adjusted the strap on one heel, the leather biting into her ankle like a reminder.

“Standards, Jenna. I have them.”

Jenna laughed, but it wasn’t mocking. It was the laugh of someone who’d watched Scarlet turn down city boys with trust funds and city boys with six-packs and city boys who quoted poetry badly.

“Right. Your standards. Let me guess — he has to be taller than your heels, smarter than your math textbooks, and ruthless enough that you don’t get bored by Tuesday?”

“Something like that.” Scarlet’s gaze flicked past Jenna, past the iron gates, to the road where dust was starting to rise.

“I didn’t spend sixteen years learning to think in numbers just to settle for someone who thinks ‘protecting me’ means telling me what to wear.”a pause before continuing “Because protecting me means ripping out the eyes of men who dared looking at me, not controlling my wardrobe.”

Jenna nudged Scarlet’s shoulder, grin crooked.

“Okay, but seriously. Look at you. Denim that hugs like it knows your secrets. Red lips that look like you’ve already been kissing trouble. Heels that say ‘I’ll walk over you if I have to.’ You could snap your fingers and half the unmated males in Garnet Pack would trip over themselves to claim you.”

Scarlet arched a brow, kohl making the motion look lethal. “Claim? Jenna, I’m not livestock.”

“Didn’t say you were.” Jenna’s eyes flicked to a group of young wolves near the stables. One of them forgot how to hold his spear and it clattered to stone. Jenna smirked. “See? Target acquired. That’s Kieran. His father’s been trying to arrange a meeting with your dad for three months. If you so much as blink at him, he’ll propose before dinner.”

Scarlet’s mouth twitched. “Standards don’t mean much when every wolf here can smell your bloodline from a mile away. Alpha’s daughter. Unmated. Back from exile. You’re a prize and a sinful threat wrapped in denim. That makes you target practice.”

“Then let them aim,” Scarlet murmured. “I’ve been shot at before.”

Jenna’s teasing faded. She studied Scarlet’s face — the sharp eyeliner, the red mouth set in a line that wasn’t quite a smile. “You want someone who isn’t scared of you.”

Scarlet didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. “I’m not looking for a mate, Jenna. I’m looking for an equal. And Garnet Pack is running out of those.”

The gates groaned. Louder this time.

The dust on the road thickened. Shapes resolved out of it. Wolves. Shadow Pack wolves, moving in formation without needing commands. Their fur was black, gray, storm-cloud silver. Their steps didn’t make noise. The only sound was the wind scraping dry leaves across stone.

And then he came.

Alpha Castien Blake.

Time seemed to thin. The courtyard held its breath. Even the wind paused.

He was taller than the gateposts. Not in a theatrical way — in the way mountains are tall. Black hair cut short, streaked with ash at the temples though he couldn’t be older than thirty-two. A coat the color of smoke hung off shoulders that looked like they’d carried more weight than any Alpha should.

But it wasn’t just his height or the weight of his presence that stopped breath in a hundred throats. It was the mask.

A wolf’s skull. Not carved. Not painted. Real bone, bleached white, shaped into a mask that covered his entire face from forehead to jaw. Only his eyes showed through the hollow sockets — pale gray, winter-cold, unblinking. The bone caught the noon light and threw it back, making him look less like a man and more like death given permission to walk among the living.

And his hands were gloved. Black leather, fitted tight, no skin showing. The gloves swallowed his fingers up to the wrist, hiding whatever lay beneath. No claws. No scars. Just leather over bone.

No one had ever seen his face. Only the mask. Only the eyes. And one who did? Didn't live to describe it twice.

Scarlet’s heartbeat knocked once, hard, against her ribs. Not fear. Recognition. Like seeing a storm you’d been warned about your whole life and realizing it was more beautiful than the warning let on.

Her father moved first. Alpha Robert Alkov stepped forward, spine straight, garnet pin on his chest catching light. Diplomacy. Grace. The mask of a leader who’d been losing but refused to show it.

“Alpha Blake,” Robert said, voice steady. “We welcome you to Garnet territory. We appreciate your—”

Castien didn’t let him finish.

One moment Castien was five paces away. The next, his gloved hand was at Robert’s throat. No warning. No shift. Just speed that made the eyes of every guard in the courtyard miss the motion.

Leather over bone closed around Alpha Robert’s windpipe. Not squeezing. Not yet. Just holding. A promise.

“What do you think you can do?” Castien’s voice came from behind the mask, muffled and wrong, like it was echoing through bone. It didn’t need volume. Quiet men who killed without blinking never did. “Invite me for a truce while your borders rot. Beg for peace while your warriors train children with wooden blades. Stand there and speak to me of welcome?”

Robert’s face went red. His hands came up, gripping Castien’s gloved wrist, but the Shadow Alpha didn’t budge. Didn’t even tense. Like he was holding a statue, not a man.

Gasps tore through the courtyard. Luna Stella cried out and stumbled forward, garnet silk twisting around her legs. Guards reached for weapons that suddenly felt useless. Jenna’s hand shot to Scarlet’s arm.

“Don’t,” Jenna whispered. “Scarlet, don’t— He’ll kill him. He’ll kill all of us.”

But Scarlet was already moving.

Her mother’s fingers closed on the hem of her denim dress, trying to yank her back. “Scarlet, no! That’s not your place!”

“Oh, fuck the place, I am above all.”

Scarlet twisted out of the grip. The heel caught on the stone for half a second and she almost stumbled — then corrected, balance finding her like it always did. She stepped forward.

*Clic**k*. The sound of her heel on stone was louder than the wind.

Click. Another step. Past Jenna’s outstretched hand. Past her mother’s horrified eyes. Past the guards who didn’t know whether to block her or bow.

Every wolf in the courtyard watched her. The denim. The red lips. The black kohl. The heels that made her stride look like she owned the ground she burned with each step.

Castien didn’t look at her. Not yet. The mask faced Robert, unmoving. But his eyes — those gray, winter eyes — shifted. Slow. Deliberate. They found her.

Scarlet stopped three paces away. Close enough that she could see the cracks in the old bone. Close enough to see her own reflection, distorted, in the curve of his cheekbone. Close enough to smell pine and smoke and something metallic, like old blood.

“Let him go,” she said.

Her voice didn’t shake. It didn’t plead. It didn’t beg. It cut.

The whole courtyard went silent. Even the wind seemed to listen.

Behind the mask, Castien tilted his head. A fraction. Like a predator recalculating.

“Little wolf,” the muffled voice said. “Your Alpha was speaking.”

“My Alpha was choking,” Scarlet replied. “There’s a difference.”

A ripple went through the courtyard. Gasps. A guard’s sword hit the stone, dropped from nerveless fingers.

Castien’s gloved grip didn’t loosen on Robert’s throat. But his eyes stayed on her. Behind the bone, something moved. Not amusement. Not anger. Calculation. Assessment. Like a blade testing the edge of another blade.

The mask stared. The eyes measured. And Scarlet, in denim and red and heels, stared right back.

The truce was three seconds old. And already, Scarlet had stepped into the teeth.

-----

The courtyard didn’t breathe. Not until Castien’s fingers opened.

His grip on Alpha Robert’s throat loosened — then he threw him. One violent, casual motion like tossing aside a branch that blocked his path. Robert hit the stone hard and skidded back into Luna Stella’s arms. She caught him, garnet silk twisting around them both as he gasped, choking on air and pride, fists clenched in her dress like it could save him.

Castien didn’t look at him again. The bone mask turned, slow, deliberate, those winter-gray eyes sliding off Robert as if he’d already been weighed and found worthless.

The Garnet guards surged forward then. Spears and swords half-raised, shouting “Alpha!” They crashed into the space between Castien and Robert, forming a desperate wall of garnet steel and shaking hands.

Castien didn’t break stride. He walked through them.

Not toward the gates. Not toward the Shadow Pack wolves waiting in disciplined silence. Toward Her.

The Shadow wolves didn’t move.

They just watched, like they knew this was not their fight.

One step, and the first Garnet guard went down — not by claws, but by Castien’s shoulder hitting his chest.

The man flew back.

Another lunged.

Castien’s gloved hand came up, caught the spear shaft mid-thrust, and snapped it with a sound like ice breaking.

He shoved the guard aside without looking at him.

Step. Break. Shove. He moved through them like they were mist.

Each step was quiet. Too quiet for a man that size. The kind of quiet that meant he didn’t need to make noise to be heard.

The white of the wolf skull mask caught the noon light and threw it back, empty eye sockets framing eyes that didn’t blink.

Luna Stella didn’t care. She dropped to her knees beside Robert, hands flying to his throat, to his chest, garnet silk staining with dust.

“Robert! Robert, breathe! Someone get a healer—” Her voice cracked into a sob. She marched forward to him on her knees, crawling, frantic, while the world fell apart around her.

Scarlet didn’t move. The heels kept her spine straight. The denim kept her grounded. The red on her lips stayed unbroken.

He stopped in front of her. Close. Close enough that she could smell leather and smoke and something colder, like snow on metal. The mask hovered above her face, massive and ancient, the bone yellowed with age and stained at the jaw with old blood no washing would ever reach.

For three heartbeats he just looked. Through the hollows of the mask. At her kohl. At her mouth. At the defiance she wore better than silk.

Then his gloved hand rose.

Black leather. Worn smooth at the knuckles. No decoration. No pack sigil. Just function. The glove closed around her jaw before she could think.

His thumb pressed just under her cheekbone. Not hard. Not yet. But firm. Possessive. The way you’d grip something to see if it would break. His fingers were big enough to span from ear to chin. He tilted her face up, forcing her eyes to meet his through the mask.

The courtyard exploded into noise behind them.

Luna Stella shrieked from the ground, still clutching Robert. “Scarlet! Don’t you dare—!” Guards shouted, tripping over broken spears. Jenna shouted her name, voice tearing. But Scarlet heard none of it. There was only the pressure of leather on skin, the hollow sound of his breathing behind bone, and those gray eyes measuring her like a map.

“Little wolf,” the muffled voice came again, vibrating through the mask into her bones. “You speak when Alphas choke. You wear war to a truce. You step forward when every instinct says to kneel.” His thumb dragged, just once, along the line of her jaw. “Tell me why I shouldn’t snap your neck the way I almost snapped his.”

Scarlet’s pulse hammered in her throat, right where his hand wasn’t. Fear tried to rise — cold, rational, sixteen years of being taught to submit. She swallowed it.

Then she moved.

Her hand shot up, faster than the guards, faster than her mother’s scream. Her palm slammed against his wrist. Not a push. A rejection.

She twisted her jaw out of his grip with a sharp, practiced motion that had nothing to do with Garnet Pack training and everything to do with city streets and knowing when a hand stayed too long.

His glove slid off her skin with a soft rasp of leather.

She stepped back half a pace. The heels clicked. Balance restored. Her chin lifted. The red of her lips looked even darker against the skin he’d just touched.

“No one touches me without permission,” she stated. Quiet. Clear. No tremor. “Not my mother. Not my father. And not you. Alpha or not. Mask or not.”

Silence.

The courtyard held it like a blade to the throat.

Castien didn’t move. The mask didn’t change. But his eyes — those pale, winter eyes — narrowed a fraction. Something shifted behind the bone. Not rage. Not disappointment.

Recognition.

His gloved hand lowered to his side. Slow. He didn’t reach for her again. He didn’t punish the defiance. He just watched.

Behind him, a Shadow Pack wolf growled low in warning. Another took a step forward. But Castien raised one gloved hand without looking back, and the whole pack froze.

He leaned in, just an inch. The mask came close enough that Scarlet could see the tiny cracks running through the bone across his brow. Could smell the cold.

“You’re not garnet,” he murmured, voice low enough that only she could hear it under the mask. “You’re not silk. You’re not submission.” A pause. His thumb twitched like he wanted to reach for her jaw again but didn’t. “Interesting.”

Scarlet didn’t answer. She let the silence sit between them, heavy and sharp.

Her jaw still tingled where the glove had been, but her face stayed still. No flinch. No bow.

Luna Stella finally found her voice, hysterical and brittle from the ground where she still knelt beside Robert, one hand pressed to his chest. “Castien, please— she’s young, she doesn’t understand— she doesn’t know what she’s doing!”

Castien’s head turned. Not to Luna. To Robert, who was still dragging air into his lungs on the stone, garnet pin crooked on his chest. The mask stared at the Alpha who’d invited him here, then flicked back to Luna Stella’s desperate face.

Then back to Scarlet.

The truce wasn’t about territory anymore. It was about her. About denim and red and a girl who pushed a god’s hand away and didn’t die for it.

Castien’s eyes lingered on her mouth for half a second. Then on her heels. Then back to her eyes.

“You threw away a treaty,” he said, voice still muffled by bone, but now with an edge that wasn’t directed at her. It was an observation. A test. “You stepped over your Alpha’s body to stand in front of me. Tell me, little wolf — do you always choose teeth over silk?”

Scarlet met his gaze. “I choose what doesn’t choke.” She tilted her head, matching the angle of his mask. “You threw him like garbage. The guards are still crawling. My mother’s on her knees. And you walked past all of it to touch my face. So I’ll ask you the same — do you always waste your hands on girls who won’t kneel?”

A beat. The wind picked up, carrying dust and the smell of iron.

The answer was sharp enough to drew blood from the pride he held, the wolves froze, Shadow guards stood rooted to their places, astonishment hitting, her words weren't wavering, they were confident that hit like truth even though it wasn't.

Castien didn’t answer with words. His gloved fingers twitched once at his side, like he was remembering the feel of her jaw under them. The mask tilted, studying her as if she were a weapon he hadn’t catalogued yet.

Then he turned and walked past her, toward the gates, cloak brushing her arm as he passed. The scent of smoke followed him. The Garnet guards scrambled out of his path now, no one daring to raise a spear again. Behind him, Luna Stella’s sobbing continued, Robert’s ragged breathing the only other sound.

But Castien paused for half a step at her shoulder. Low, only she could hear it through the bone: “We’ll see if those teeth last a little more, Scarlet Alkov.”

And Scarlet stood in denim and defiance, heart hammering, knowing the war had just changed the shape.

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^^^To be continue~^^^

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