Page 18 of Consume Me (Immortal Vices and Virtues: All Hallows’ Eve #4)

Kendall

N octan is mid- shift when the world tilts. One heartbeat, it’s the man I know—broad-shouldered, dark-eyed, dangerous in a way that makes me feel safe. The next…

Fur explodes across his skin, white streaked with silver in a pattern like starlight spilled from the heavens. His bones stretch and snap, reforming into something bigger, more primal. His eyes flare into molten gold, locked on me.

The wolf from my vision.

The wolf I’ve feared for years.

And he’s charging straight for me.

I freeze, too stunned to breathe, the image searing into my mind like the scene I’ve lived a hundred times in nightmares—his weight bearing down, his teeth glinting like polished ivory—except…

They don’t sink into me.

They hit the demon who is looming over me, claw-like nails aimed for my throat.

The impact sends both rolling away from me, a violent tangle of fur, claws, and shadow-made-flesh. The sound is a nightmare—wet snarls, the scrape of claws against stone.

And then?—

Noctan’s jaws lock on the demon’s shoulder, his teeth sinking deep until the monster lets out a piercing, inhuman scream that makes the hair at my nape rise. There’s a sharp, visceral tear .

They tumble again, slamming into the far wall with enough force to send cracks spiderwebbing through the plaster.

Something hisses—a wet, sickening sound—and the smell follows almost instantly.

Smoke. Burnt flesh.

It hits the back of my throat, thick and cloying, turning my stomach. I gag, pressing a hand to my mouth, and force myself to move.

When I push up onto my elbows, the sight freezes me mid-breath.

Noctan’s wolf lies sprawled on the floor. His fur is matted, streaked with crimson, the white dulled under a layer of soot and blood. His flank rises and falls in shallow, uneven breaths.

Beside him, the demon’s body is twisted at an unnatural angle, black ichor pooling beneath it. Its eyes are open, glassy, the twisted mouth slack in death.

And its chest… is empty.

Where its heart should be is nothing but a hollow cavity, edges torn and smoldering.

I crawl forward, knees scraping against the rough floor, the burn of panic flooding my chest. “Noctan…” My voice cracks.

He doesn’t move.

My pulse hammers harder, my movements faster. I reach his side and press a trembling hand to the thick fur at his shoulder.

It’s warm.

Alive.

Thank the gods.

Golden eyes crack open, finding mine, and the relief nearly topples me.

“You’re okay,” I whisper, my voice a prayer more than a statement. My fingers sink into the fur at his neck, stroking gently, grounding myself in the solid, living weight of him.

He exhales through his nose, a slow, steadying breath, and then the magic ripples through him again. Bones shift, fur retreats, muscle reforming under skin until the man is there, lying half-curled on his side.

And my hand is no longer buried in fur. It’s cupping his cheek.

His skin is warm under my palm, his jaw rough with stubble, a faint smear of blood trailing from the corner of his mouth.

My gaze drops to his arm when he shifts it, the motion revealing the rune burned into his skin. It’s glowing now—blazing hot gold against his flesh. The heat radiates into the air between us.

He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t explain.

Noctan grips my wrist in one hand, steady but firm, and reaches with the other for the demon’s arm. His fingers wrap around blackened skin, and the rune flares brighter—blinding for a heartbeat. He presses the rune to the demon’s flesh.

The demon’s corpse convulses once. Then again. And then?—

It’s gone.

No body. No ichor. And no dagger. Just a faint trace of ash dissipating into the air.

I’m free.

For a long moment, everything is quiet except for the uneven rhythm of our breathing. My palm is still against his cheek, his skin fever-warm from the fight, his eyes fixed on mine like there’s nothing else in the room.

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “You—” My voice breaks, and I try again. “You saved me.”

His jaw tightens. “Always.”

The word hits me like a vow.

My chest aches—not from fear, but from the swell of something far more dangerous.

Something that’s been building since that first dance, since the first time the daggers fell silent under his touch.

But now there’s no dagger between us. No voice whispering murder in my ear.

No visions of death and suffering. Just him.

And I realize something else.

The wolf from my vision was never my executioner.

He was my shield.

My heart wobbles as the vision reframes itself in my mind. All along, he was my protector. The daggers didn’t want me to see. Or maybe I didn’t.

“This is not how I envisioned our first date ending.”

Noctan’s words yank me from my thoughts. I look down to find his eyes glittering, and I can’t help but grin.

“You thought you’d get lucky, didn’t you?” I tease.

“Oh, I’d say I’m pretty lucky already.”

I open my mouth to form some snarky, witty reply, but his grip on my wrist tightens, and he yanks me down before I can react. He kisses me hard, and I melt right into it. My body presses to his, but it’s not enough; I want to be closer. To become?—

“Fuck.” He breaks our kiss and looks down at his chest.

“You’re hurt,” I realize, noting the way it’s already turning black at the edges.

“I just need a minute.”

“Come on,” I say, pulling him up.

“Where are we going?” he asks, groaning as he gets slowly to his feet.

“To make sure you live long enough for a second date.”