Chapter 5 Fire Beneath My Skin

You ever get the feeling the city never sleeps?

Even past midnight, St. Mary’s thrums with life. Machines beep, shoes scuff across polished floors, and rain hisses against the windows like it’s trying to tell you something. I used to find it comforting — a reminder someone, somewhere, was still fighting to stay alive.

That night… it felt different. The air hung heavy, thick with something unspoken, like it was waiting for me to notice.

I leaned against the counter, sipping coffee that had long since gone cold, tasting faintly like paper. Charts lay open in front of me. Monitors blinked green. Everything looked normal. But under my skin, it wasn’t.

It was stirring again.

The last time I’d felt this… this heat under my veins was the night of the storm. The night I met him. Kael. The man with the golden eyes.

I tried to convince myself it didn’t matter. That he was just a patient. That spark between us? Imaginary. But you can lie to the world. You can’t lie to your blood.

My hands shook as I flipped through a chart, and then it happened. The faint silver glow under my skin flickered again, tiny, impossible. I shoved my hands into my pockets and tried to act normal.

Elena looked up from her clipboard. “You okay, doc?”

“Yeah,” I said too quickly. “Just tired.”

“You sure? You’ve been staring at nothing for ten minutes straight.”

I forced a smile. “Guess I need more sleep.”

She didn’t press. Thank God. She just hummed softly and went back to her notes.

Down the hall, the lights flickered. My chest tightened. The storm outside rumbled low and steady, almost like it was warning me. Lately, strange things had been happening — lights dimming when I walked by, machines freezing, power lines buzzing when I lost my temper. The Moon’s power under my skin. Restless.

I made my way to the children’s ward. Soap, lavender, and quiet. The soft rise and fall of a child’s chest. One little boy was struggling again.

“Doctor Ardan,” his mother whispered when she saw me. “He’s… not doing well.”

I checked his chart. Post-surgery complications. Weak pulse, gray skin. Machines doing their best.

“Try to rest,” I said softly. “I’ll watch him.”

She nodded, hesitant, then slipped out.

I sat beside the bed, hand hovering over his chest. His breaths were shallow, uneven. And I couldn’t sit there and do nothing.

I pressed my palm to him and whispered, “Please.”

Heat rose from my hand, slow at first, then stronger, spreading like sunlight trapped under glass. The boy jerked once — then relaxed. His pulse steadied, color returning to his cheeks.

The silver light on my palm flared, brighter than ever. My heart pounded so loud I thought the room could hear it. My skin glowed faint ember-red before fading. The boy slept peacefully, rising and falling evenly.

And then it hit me: this wasn’t just healing anymore.

It was changing. Growing.

The fire inside me was waking.

By morning, the city wore gray light and drizzle. I left the hospital through the side exit, coat pulled tight, shoes squeaking on wet pavement. The rain smelled clean, but my mind was messy, tangled.

Halfway home, I heard it. My name.

“Selene.”

I froze. Thought I was dreaming. Marcus stood at the corner, half-hidden by fog, coat dripping.

“Marcus?” I whispered.

He looked rougher, sharper, like life had carved lines into him I hadn’t seen before. A scar traced down his jaw.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.

“I live here,” I replied, confused.

“No. The city. It’s changing. They’re watching.”

“Who’s watching?”

He scanned the street, eyes darting like shadows were listening. “The packs. The Alphas. Something’s pulling them in. You’ve felt it, haven’t you?”

I had. Every night, the Moon whispered in my dreams.

He stepped closer. Voice low. “You shouldn’t have come back, Selene. You were supposed to stay gone.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” I said.

“If they find out who you are—”

“They won’t,” I cut in. “No one knows.”

His gaze pierced me. “Someone does. A man with golden eyes.”

My stomach froze.

“He’s been searching for you,” Marcus said. “One of Kael Blackthorn’s wolves was spotted near St. Mary last night.”

The rain picked up, cold against my skin.

“Stay hidden,” he said. “And stop using your power. It leaves a scent. They can trace it.”

I grabbed his arm. “Marcus, why are you helping me?”

His eyes softened, just for a fraction of a second. “I saw you die once. I won’t see it again.”

And then he was gone, swallowed by fog.

I stood in the rain, heart racing, lights blurring around me. Kael was looking for me. I could feel it. That invisible thread connecting us since the night we met — ancient, alive, and impossible to ignore.

When I finally reached home, I locked the door, slid to the floor, staring at my reflection in the window. Pale skin, dark hair, eyes faintly silver.

“Why me?” I whispered.

The Moon said nothing.

That night, the dream came again.

A forest soaked in rain and blood. A red moon burned above, glowing like a wound. Wolves howled somewhere far off. And through the smoke, he appeared — Kael. Eyes gold and burning, moving toward me.

“You shouldn’t exist,” he said.

“I didn’t ask to,” I whispered.

“You healed me.”

“Yes.”

“You touched me.”

I nodded.

“Then tell me, Slayer,” he whispered, voice low and sharp, “what are you?”

White-hot fire crawled up the trees, swallowing the dark. His hand brushed my cheek, and the world burned.

I woke gasping. My skin still warm, faintly silver along my collarbone. The marks pulsed like a heartbeat.

Thunder rolled outside. I went to the window, letting rain soak my face. The city lights shimmered far below. Somewhere, Kael was awake too.

I touched the marks and whispered, “You’re not taking this from me.”

The fire under my skin flared brighter, alive and wild.

The Moon hid behind the clouds.

And the night breathed again.