~Rhett~

I grab a pillow and clamp it over my ears, desperate to drown out the shrill noise drifting through the air.

“This woman has got to be kidding me!”

Maybe I should just suffocate myself under this pillow.

Anything would be better than being subjected to my neighbor’s violin playing, which, by the way, sounds like an assault on my eardrums.

This woman just ruined my childhood. I'll never enjoy the memory of my mother playing the violin again.

It used to be my peace, my happy place. Now I’m not even sure I’ll ever pick up a violin again.

It’s been two hours. Two.

There’s no way I’m sleeping tonight. I pace the room like a madman, barely restraining myself from storming out, banging on her door, and yelling,

“Shut the fuck up and put that damn violin in a box!”

But no. I don’t want her to think I even know she exists. She’s tutoring someone? Fine. I won’t say a word. I’ll show her crazy.

I hook up my sound system, scroll to the loudest playlist I can find, and blast it at full volume.

Not just to annoy her; although, yes, definitely to annoy her, but because I'd rather listen to club beats at 2 a.m. than suffer through her murdering Beethoven one string at a time. This isn’t exactly me, I know. But I’m in the human world, pretending to be one of them. It’s only fair that I act like one.

“My annoying neighbor is the last thing I need in my miserable life right now.”

“Is she?” My wolf, Khair, smirks. “I love her scent.”

I pinch my eyebrows “You love her what? Khair, she's human.”

“I can't explain it, but there's something about her scent. It's sweet and…”

“That's not what we’re here for,” I sharply cut him off. “My mission is to find the beast who murdered my parents. That’s why I’m in the human world, not to hook up with human girls. And besides, I can’t risk getting involved with one.”

“So you care about her?” Khair teases.

“Oh, shut up, Khair.” I roll my eyes. “I met her yesterday. I don’t even know what she looks like.”

“I do. She’s pretty, and judging from her art, she's got a dirty mind.”

“Doesn't impress me,” I hiss.

“But you liked her scent. It stirred your skin.”

“She’s human!” I snap.

“Stop fighting it, Rhett.”

“No. What you should do is keep your eyes off human girls. Forbidden territory. I want nothing to do with her.”

“So we’re just going to keep starving because of your ego?”

“This is not ego. Humans are forbidden. I don’t even like them. The last one didn’t satisfy me, and for the last time, Khair—I’m not here to lust after girls.”

“We can have some fun while hunting our guy. I want this artist. Get her into your bed.”

“Absolutely not!”

The sudden bang bang bang on the door yanks me out of the argument in my head. I quickly lower the music and rush over.

Whoever it is sounds like they’re ready to break the door down.

“Dude, what the hell?!” My neighbor barks the moment I open the door. “Why the fuck are you blasting music at this hour? Are you crazy?”

“What’s crazy,” I shoot back, “is that thing you were playing that snatched my sleep.”

She narrows her eyes. “So your solution is to shake the whole building with your speaker? You’re not the only one who lives here, bro.”

“And you should’ve remembered that before trying to kill my eardrums with that violin murder session.”

She groans and clenches her fists at her sides.

She’s mad, properly pissed off. And damn… She looks kinda cute like that. “If you play that music again,” she snaps, “I will call management.” Then she spins around and storms off, hips swaying in those little bum shorts she’s got on. Cute ass. I notice. Of course I notice.

I sigh and jump on my bed.

“Come on, Rhett. She's hot. You can't deny that.”

“Shut up!” I brush Khair off, the last thing I need right now is that annoying woman.

*

I wake up with a pounding headache… And of course, my usual early morning rage.

The headache is all thanks to my neighbor's awful violin playing. The rage has been simmering ever since my parents were murdered and my pack torn apart. The bastard who did it didn’t just destroy us; he cursed us. That curse has left us weak, divided and bleeding.

It’s been over fifteen years, and the fire still hasn’t gone out. We’ve been searching for a cure, a loophole, anything, but nothing works. And if we don’t break this damn curse soon, I’ll lose my wolf. My pack will too. We’ll be reduced to humans, we’ll be vulnerable, helpless, prey. When enemies come and they will, we won't survive. The wolf kingdom will either cast us out... or wipe us out.

My lineage cannot end with me. My generation cannot fade into nothing. I'm dying everyday, this curse is eating me up and I'm helpless but I'll find a way.

Which is why I’ve been here all these years, playing hockey, building a name and staying in the spotlight.

The Moon Goddess had whispered that I’d find my answers here, that something special in this place would lead me to the one who destroyed my pack… and maybe even to her, my fated mate, the one who holds my redemption.

That’s why I pushed for the transfer. I pressured my management until they sold me to a new club. And now, here I am. Right where fate wants me. Even if it means dealing with an annoying human neighbor who plays the violin like she’s strangling it.

I breeze through my routine, throw on my gym clothes, and grab my duffel bag. The gym is one of the places I go to release my anger.

And just as I step out, I hear that same familiar sound. My neighbor is humming that same awful violin piece from yesterday. She’s even bad at humming it.

I try to ignore her but nearly bump into her. “Oh, sorry,” I mutter quickly.

“You would’ve been sorry if you actually hit me,” she snaps, her glare sharp enough to slice through bone.

“Excuse me?” I blink, but she’s already turning away, hips swaying in those tight gym leggings. She looks hot; thick and curvy, really hard to not notice. Fine, I admit it. But damn, she's so annoying. I cannot stand her.

And now, judging by her matching workout set, she’s heading to the same gym.

Of course she is.

Inside the elevator, she leans back against the wall, arms crossed like she’s shielding herself from me.

She groans softly, like my presence alone offends her.

The only good thing about this woman being my neighbor is the fact that she doesn't know I'm Rhett Lawson; she probably doesn't care about hockey and I'm really glad.

She suddenly presses another button. Changing floors. Why is my crazy neighbor changing her mind?

“You're not going to the gym anymore?” I ask.

Not that I care. Really.

She glares at me. “How is that your business?”

“Miss, you were the one who got in first and pressed the button for the gym floor.”

“Bro, mind your fucking business! You're so annoying!” she snaps, chin lifted like she’s ready for a full-on courtroom battle.

I say nothing, but I want to snap back.

I don't know how a total stranger has this kind of effect on me. I don’t act like this, especially not with people I don't know.

I’m supposed to stay low-key, and avoid drama. So instead of making this worse, in case she pulls out her phone and records some “meltdown in elevator” moment and posts it on social media, I shut my mouth.

When the elevator dings on the gym floor, I step out in silence. But I can feel her eyes on me, burning into my back like she’s not done yet. But I have no time for her.

~Lucy~

I pace around my room like a lunatic, waiting for Mr. Next Door to come back from the gym.

I’ve peeked through my peephole at least a hundred times but nothing.

Is he still working out? What is he trying to do, sculpt a Greek god body just to walk around shirtless and smug?

Why is he even gone this long?

I can’t wait for him to return. The moment I hear his key in the door, I’m pulling out my violin. And this time? Oh, I’m going full-on torture mode.

I’ll make it more annoying than ever, screechy, off-key and loud. I'll make sure he cries his ears out.

And when he comes banging on my door I won’t even answer. Let him suffer. I'll make sure I annoy him until he moves out. Doesn't he have a big attitude? I'll make him pay for it.

Who the hell does he think he is, anyway?

Walking around like some big shot with his stupid jawline and those stupid arms and that dumb “I’m too good for violin music” attitude. Blasting loud music like it’s okay, but my violin is the problem?

Please. My cat Kinny, may he rest in peace, loved my violin playing. My grandmother used to say I had the hands of an angel. So who the hell does this gym-addicted music snob think he is? I wasn't even able to workout yesterday because of him and today he decides to spend the whole evening at the gym?

He’s not getting a wink of sleep tonight. Even if it’s the last thing I do.

Suddenly, my phone rings, snapping me out of my spiral. I smile when I see the name, my best friend, Freya.

“Hey, Frey. I miss you.”

“I miss you more, Lulu! What’s up with you? Have you been able to paint anything today?”

I let out a dramatic sigh. “Nothing yet. I’m still blocked.”

“Aww, bestie. Don’t push it, okay? Just take your time. It’ll come back.”

“It’s so hard, Frey,” I groan, pulling my hair into a messy fist.

“I know,” she says gently. “But don’t stress it too much. Don’t burn yourself out.”

I sigh again, flopping back onto my bed. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good! What are you up to right now?”

“Oh, just waiting for Mr. Next Door to return from the gym so I can torture his ears tonight.”

She laughs, full and loud. “Lulu! Leave that man alone! Why not just be friendly for once? You need a man in your life. Imagine your neighbor! Built-in cuddle buddy.”

“Frey, what the hell? Are you seriously trying to hook me up with that grumpy-ass man?”

“You said yourself he’s hot! Didn’t you call him ‘body of an athlete’ and everything?” she squeals. “Ugh, I need to see him.”

“I did say that, but guess what? His attitude slapped me in the face.”

“Oh, come on. Soften up a little. Your vagina needs some cream.”

“FREYA!”

“I’m serious! Think about it. You could use Mr. Next Door as inspiration for that half-finished canvas.”

“How?!” I groan, rolling my eyes so hard they almost get stuck.

“He’s hot. He could make you horny. And horny might bring your spark back.”

“Frey, shut up. He’s an asshole. I don’t want him.”

“Maybe he’s only mean because he’s horny too.”

“There’s no way he’s single. But if he is? With that attitude? No wonder.”

“Lulu, listen, that man could wake your pussy from the dead. Use him and stop being a headache to him. You two just need some spicy romance in your life, especially you, it's been two years, Lu.”

I roll my eyes. “Get off my phone.”

She cackles. “I gotta go anyway. Saving lives and curing diseases, you know.”

“Yes, yes, go be a superhero, Doctor Freya, and leave your emotionally unstable bestie alone.”

I chew on my bottom lip, thinking about what Freya just said. It’s… a good idea, I’ll admit. But Mr. Next Door? He’s so grumpy, so infuriating, I cannot, for the life of me, imagine myself in any kind of relationship with that man.

“No.” I shake my head, shoving the thought away.

Besides, I don’t even get horny anymore. That part of me died the day my stupid ex crushed it. So thanks, but no thanks.

My phone buzzes again.

“Ugh, what now?” I mutter, grabbing it. It’s an email from my aunt. A wedding invitation, my cousin is getting married.

“There’s absolutely no way I’m going to that wedding,” I scoff out loud.

Jim will be there. Of course he will. All my former classmates too, they are friends with my cousin since we were all in the same class. That whole wedding is basically a glorified high school reunion, one giant reminder of everything I’d rather forget.

Sure, I’m doing well. I’m recognized for my erotic art. I could show up and rub that in their faces the same way they’ll try to flaunt their picture-perfect lives in mine.

But do I really want to go through that? That exhausting game of “look at how far I’ve come” while pretending not to care about what anyone else thinks?

No. Hell no. That’s a hard pass. I'll need to come up with some excuse, I'm not going.

*

I had waited almost three hours. Bored out of my mind and unable to fight the urge any longer, I finally throw on my gym clothes and head downstairs. Just to see, you know, casually, if Mr. Grumpy is still there.

Sure enough, there he is; brooding, sweaty and shirtless.

He’s slamming a weighted medicine ball to the ground, over and over, like he’s trying to murder the floor. His muscles flex and ripple with every throw. Veins bulge down his arms, and there's this low grunt he makes each time he lifts the ball above his head.

And when he switches to doing thrusts with a barbell across his shoulders… holy hell. Why does that movement look so… obscene? Each controlled thrust forward is too smooth, too rhythmic. It’s giving bedroom energy, and I hate that I notice it. Even worse, I feel a tingle deep in my core.

Nope. Absolutely not. I shake my head, trying to snap myself out of it.

But before I can look away, he glances over his shoulder, and our eyes meet.

Shit.

It feels like he's been watching me. There’s something about the way he looks at me, like he can see me, even when his back is turned. Like he knows I’m there, breathing, thinking, watching him too.

My stomach flips and heat rushes up my neck. He caught me staring. I'm so embarrassed.

I spin around so fast I nearly crash into a treadmill.

Just great. Now I can never come to this gym again. I grit my teeth, regretting ever coming down here. I don't even want to imagine what he thinks of me right now.

~Lucy~

Next day

Following my best friend’s advice, I decide to try something new. Instead of waiting for that spark to hit me like lightning before I return to my usual erotic style, I’m going to paint something completely different. Something I’m not used to… but something I can still do.

An exotic bird.

It sounds random, I know. But it’s colorful and elegant. It has nothing to do with sex, at least, that’s what I keep telling myself. Even as I imagine it, I catch my brain trying to turn the curve of its feathers into something sensual. It's ridiculous. How does someone even accidentally sexualize a bird?

Still, today I must paint. No more blank canvases mocking me from across the room. No more waiting.

I refuse to let another day become a repeat of yesterday.

So I throw on something simple, tie my hair up, and head out to the mall just to grab some fresh paint and brushes. I already have tons at home, and plenty more at the gallery, but something about going out… It feels like a reset. Like breathing new air for the first time in months.

It’s silly, but I feel good. Hopeful. Maybe today will finally be a good day.

I take out the bags filled with my painting materials and lock my car, ready to make it back to my room, when a sudden figure appears beside me and makes me jump.

“Oh my God!” I exclaim, clutching my chest. “You scared the shit out of me, Lorry.”

His mouth curls into a slow smile. “I’m sorry, dear. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

His eyes trail down the length of my body, lingering far too long, and then, ugh, he bites his bottom lip like he thinks he’s in some romance movie. “You’re such a gorgeous woman,” he murmurs.

My stomach twists. Of all the shitty things that could happen today, this creep showing up had to be one of them.

What the hell is he doing here?

Lorry is a freak. A real-life walking red flag. I’ve had a weird feeling about him since the first time he showed up at one of my exhibits, asking way too many personal questions. But I never gave him my address, never mentioned where I lived, so how the hell did he find the estate I moved to?

Oh! he’s been stalking me.

I drop my bags and take a step back, eyes narrowing. “What do you want? Have you been stalking me or what?”

Lorry’s face twists into something pitiful. “I… I’m sorry, it’s not like that. I just… I can’t get you out of my mind.” He chuckles nervously, then looks me dead in the eye. “I want to hold you like the way your characters hold each other in those erotic paintings. I want to feel you. Let me be the one you use to bring your work to life.”

My skin crawls. I blink twice, stunned. “What the actual fuck? Are you kidding me?”

He steps forward suddenly, grabbing my shoulders with sweaty hands. “I’m serious, Lucy. I want to be your man. I can treat you right.”

I jerk away from him, heart pounding. “Let me go!”

But he grabs me again, stronger this time, holding me tightly like he owns me. “I swear, I’ll call security!” I cry, trying to yank myself free.

“Lucy, come on,” he breathes, face inches from mine. “Let’s go to my place. You need a man. You paint about it all the time, let me make those dreams real.”

“Shut up! Let me go!” I scream, pushing at his chest.

His fingers dig into my arms. “Stop struggling, Lucy. Aren’t you tired of being alone?”

“Help!” I yell, raw fear covering me. “Somebody help me!” Tears blur my vision. He’s stronger than me. Is he trying to kidnap me? Assault me?

“Keep it cool, Lucy,” he hisses, pressing his body against mine, holding me like it’s some twisted romance.

“Hey!” a deep voice suddenly snaps through the air. Lorry freezes. His hands drop away from me instantly. We both turn, and there he is, Mr. Next Door.

His face is stone hard as he storms over, eyes blazing with rage. Without a word, he swings his fist and slams it into Lorry’s jaw. Lorry stumbles backward with a grunt, but before he can recover, Mr. Next Door punches him again, this time, a blow to the gut. Lorry folds over with a wheeze.

Mr. Next Door grabs his collar, yanking him upright, eyes piercing. “What the fuck were you trying to do?” he growls. “Grabbing a woman like that?”

“I… I wasn’t— I didn’t mean to,” Lorry stutters, voice shaking. His lip trembles, and tears slip down his face. “I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me.”

“Scram!” Mr. Next Door shoves him hard in the chest, making him stumble again. “If I ever see you near her again, I’ll fucking kill you!”

Damn! He's so hot when he's furious.

“I’m sorry, sir!” Lorry cries, practically tripping over his own feet as he tries to run away.

“I said scram!” Mr. Next Door booms.

Lorry flees in fear, his panic so strong he slams his head against the wall in his rush. He whimpers and keeps running.

Mr. Next Door turns to me once Lorry disappears into the distance. “Are you okay?”

“I didn’t ask you to help me,” I snap, frowning. “I had it under control. I didn’t need you.”

“Is that so?” he grunts, stepping closer. “So I should’ve just let that creep drag you away?”

“Yeah, I mean… I would’ve fought him off.”

“You were crying for help.”

“I was trying to scare him,” I roll my eyes, folding my arms.

“Really?” His mouth curves in a slow, dangerous smile as he grabs my waist, dragging me closer until our bodies nearly touch. His scent is rich, intoxicating, something between spice and danger, flooding my senses.

Fuck.

And the way his eyes bore into mine, like he’s staring into my soul; it’s scary, but I’m captivated. I can’t look away. I hate him. I hate how attractive he is even when he’s infuriating. But I hate even more that I don’t want to break the stare.

“Why are you so stubborn, hmm?” he murmurs, his voice thick like honey. “Always pretending you don’t care about me?”

The way he's gripping my waist… I hate how much I want to melt into him.

“Let me go,” I say, weakly pushing at his chest, even though I don’t mean it.

He doesn’t budge. “Didn’t you say you can save yourself? Then save yourself from me now.”

He leans closer, his voice a dark whisper against my ear. “Lucy… if I wanted to, I’d bend you over right here, right now. But I don’t have to force you. You’d give yourself to me, willingly. I’d crawl into that stubborn little head of yours, and I’d make you dream about me. Crave me. Beg me to fuck every ounce of that bratty attitude out of you.”

My breath catches. God. Why am I wet? Why is my mind begging me to beg him?

Snap. Out. Of. It.

“Ohhh,” I scoff, blinking away the heat clouding my head. “So you want to see the color of my panties? Is that it, Mr. Next Door? Want a taste?”

“You’re the one who wants a taste of me, Lucy,” he says, pressing his body harder against mine. My clit throbs with the contact. “I saw how you looked at me at the gym yesterday. Say it, Lucy. Say you want me. But I won’t make it easy. You’ll beg me to ruin you.”

“I don’t want you!” I shove him back, my chest rising. “Fuck you!” I flip him off. “I would never want a grump like you. You’re a fucking asshole!”

I bend to grab my bags, but he snatches them before I can. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Whatever you think,” he says over his shoulder.

My jaw drops. “What?!”

Before I can cuss him out, he storms off with my bags, and like a damn idiot, I trail behind him, stunned, fuming, and turned on.

Who the fuck does this man think he is?