Cold was the curse, I became the storm
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- Parts 34
They say wolves can smell fear.
Paul Lahote practically thrived on mine.
When my parents sent me to Forks-hoping the Cullens could "fix" the ice curse twisting through me-I didn't expect much. I definitely didn't expect him. Sharp tongue. Short fuse. Eyes like a storm front. Paul looked at me like I was a walking blizzard, and maybe I was.
The Cullens treated me like a puzzle. Paul called me frostbite.
I called him mutt.
We hated each other-loudly.
But when the curse deepened, when the cold inside me finally broke loose, it wasn't the vampires who pulled me back. It was Paul. Not with gentleness, but with fire-fierce, wild, and real.
Our bond wasn't clean like imprinting. It was messy. Explosive. A collision of ice and rage that somehow...fit.
Now we train in the shadows-his fury, my frost.
The pack calls me dangerous. The Cullens think I'm slipping.
Let them talk.
Because cold was the curse.
He was the spark.
And I became the storm that chose the flame.
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#368
paullahote
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