Page 11

CHAPTER 11

M alrik stood rigid outside the bathing chamber, his massive body trembling with the effort of remaining still. Each breath drew her scent deeper into his lungs—clean skin, warm water, and beneath it all, that intoxicating sweetness that had awoken that dormant part of him. His claws extended, then retracted, then extended again as he fought for control.

The beast wanted to return to her, to claim what it considered his. The emerging male—the part of him that remembered words and courtesy and the concept of privacy—struggled to maintain his distance.

He flexed his hand, watching with fascination as his claws appeared and disappeared. This hadn’t happened before her arrival. For years—how many, he couldn’t recall—he had been locked in beast form, his thoughts fragmented and primitive. Now, with each hour in her presence, more of his rational mind surfaced.

With rationality came memory…

A grand hall. He was seated on an elevated chair and a female Vultor stood before him, her eyes flashing angrily.

“You dare reject me? Do you know who my father is?”

He sneered and gave a dismissive flick of his wrist. “Another tedious noble with more pride than sense. Like his daughter.”

Her growl rose to a shriek of rage, and his guards moved to escort her out.

“You’ll regret this,” she hissed. “The curse will find you, as it finds all who refuse their mate without cause.”

He laughed. “Superstitious nonsense. I am Malrik of House Vantar. I choose my own fate.”

The memory dissolved, leaving him confused and troubled. There was that word again— curse . It stirred something in his mind, but the thought remained elusive.

A waft of steam escaped from under the door, carrying her scent more strongly, and he groaned, pressing his forehead against the stone wall. The cold surface did nothing to cool the fever building inside him. He shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be waiting. Shouldn’t be imagining her in his bath, skin flushed and hair darkened by water. To his shock, his body began to respond to the image.

For the first time in his long isolation, he felt a deep, primal need that had nothing to do with hunger or thirst. He wanted. Wanted to taste her wet skin, to feel her breath against his fur, to hear her gasp his name. And beneath that want, buried so deeply he almost didn’t recognize it, was an older, more complex emotion. Something that went beyond desire.

He shook his head violently. These thoughts were dangerous. He was a beast, not a male. She was not his to claim, no matter what the beast believed. She was an intelligent being with her own desires and needs. Desires and needs that didn’t involve him, he reminded himself firmly.

When she finally emerged from the bathing room, she was wrapped in a robe that dwarfed her smaller frame. It was his—he recognized the deep blue fabric with silver embroidery along the edges, though it was faded now. Her hair hung in damp curls around her shoulders, and her skin glowed pink from the heat of the bath. She looked impossibly soft, impossibly fragile.

She startled when she saw him, one hand flying to her throat where the robe gaped open. Her cheeks, already flushed from the bath, darkened further.

“Oh! I—I didn’t know you were waiting.” She clutched the robe tighter. “I found this hanging on a hook. I hope it’s all right that I borrowed it?”

He couldn’t form words. The sight of her in his garment stirred something primal and possessive in him. His scent would now mingle with hers. The beast purred its approval and he surged forward, unable to stop himself, and pressed her against the wall. His body surrounded her, his claws digging into the stone on either side of her head. His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling against hers, separated only by the thin layer of the robe.

He should apologize, back away, give her the space she surely needed. But all rational thought was drowned out by the thundering of his blood and the scent of her filling his nostrils.

Her eyes were wide, her pulse fluttering at her throat. Fear , he told himself harshly. But there was something else in her gaze, something he couldn’t identify. Her small hands came to rest on his chest, not pushing him away but just… resting there, as if absorbing the heat of his body.

He wanted to kiss her. The desire hit him with startling intensity. He’d never wanted someone this way, never felt that electric spark of attraction. And beneath the desire, that other emotion, the one he could barely remember the name of, the one he’d denied himself for too long.

“Beautiful,” he rasped, the words scraping out of his throat. “So… beautiful.”

She blinked up at him, her cheeks flushed. “What did you say?”

He couldn’t answer. The words wouldn’t come. Instead, he dipped his head, inhaling her scent, then brushed his muzzle against her cheek in a slow, deliberate movement that was both question and caress.

Her breath caught, and for a moment he thought she’d push him away. But then her hands slid upwards, burying themselves in the fur of his neck. He growled at the sensation, a deep rumble of pleasure that vibrated through his entire body. He pressed closer, wanting more of her touch, wanting to feel all of her against him.

Her fingers curled, gripping his fur tightly as her breathing quickened. He could feel the pounding of her heart against his chest, but it wasn’t fear driving it. Her lips parted slightly, and he couldn’t resist. He had to taste her.

He claimed her mouth with his, the kiss awkward at first as he adjusted to the shape of her lips. But then her tongue darted out, tentatively brushing against his, and he groaned at the sensation. His hands moved to her waist, lifting her into his arms and pulling her tightly against him as the kiss deepened.

It was unlike any kiss he could remember. There was an urgency to it, a hunger that went beyond the physical, a need to connect on a level deeper than lust. He wanted to claim her, to mark her, to make her his in every way. His fangs grazed her lower lip, drawing a drop of blood, and he shuddered at the taste.

But even in his haze of desire, a small part of his mind cried out for him to stop. She was not his to claim. She was here by necessity, not choice. He didn’t know if he could ever truly deserve her. He had to let her go. Had to…

Her hands returned to his chest and this time she was pushing him away. He forced himself to break the kiss and lower her back to her feet. She was panting, her lips swollen and red from his kisses, her eyes bright.

“I…” she said, licking her lips nervously. “I can’t. Not like this.”

He nodded, unable to speak. She was right. Of course she was right. But his beast howled in frustration.

“Your robe…” she whispered. “That’s all I have to wear. I didn’t mean…”

He forced himself to step back, giving her space, and she shifted uncomfortably under his stare. “I should, um, find somewhere to sleep.”

“Stay.” The word came out as a rumbling growl as he pointed at his nest of furs.

She bit her lip. “I really don’t think that’s a good?—”

He didn’t wait for her to finish. He closed the distance between them and scooped her into his arms, cradling her soft body against his chest.

“What are you doing?” she gasped, her hands instinctively gripping his fur. “Put me down!”

He ignored her protests, carrying her over to the nest of furs. He deposited her gently in the center of the nest, then curled his big body around hers, effectively caging her with his bulk.

She immediately tried to wiggle away, pushing against his chest. “This is not appropriate! We can’t—I can’t?—”

He tightened his grip, careful not to hurt her but making escape impossible.

“Agreed.”

She stilled, looking up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. “That was before we kissed.”

“Safe,” he growled, the word vibrating through his chest. “You… safe… here.”

“Safe from what?”

He didn’t answer, unsure himself what he meant. Safe from the cold? From loneliness? From him? All he knew was that having her here, in his nest, surrounded by his scent, felt right. Necessary.

“I… won’t… harm… you,” he said carefully, the words coming more easily this time. Her closeness made speech less of a struggle.

She remained tense for several long moments, her heart racing so fast he could feel it against his chest. Gradually, though, her muscles relaxed and her breathing slowed. The fear-scent that had spiked when he grabbed her began to fade.

“This is still inappropriate,” she muttered, but there was less conviction in her voice.

He rumbled a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh. Inappropriate . As if such human concepts applied to him anymore. As if anything mattered beyond keeping her close, keeping her safe.

He watched as her eyelids grew heavy, her body surrendering to exhaustion despite her apparent determination to remain alert. When she finally drifted off to sleep, her head pillowed on his arm, satisfaction filled him.

The beast purred, a deep, vibrating sound of contentment. He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of her, letting it fill his senses and quiet his usual restlessness. For the first time in memory, he felt something like peace.

Sleep claimed him soon after, pulling him down into dreams long denied.

He stood in the grand hall of his keep, but it was different—pristine, filled with light and music. Vultor nobles in their finest garments danced and conversed, goblets of wine in hand. He was in his humanoid form, dressed in ceremonial robes of deep green with silver embroidery.

Before him stood Tarek, his eldest advisor, his expression grave beneath his silver-streaked fur.

“My lord, you must reconsider,” Tarek urged. “The curse of the unmated is no mere superstition. It has claimed many of our kind.”

He waved a dismissive hand, irritation flaring. “Old wives’ tales to frighten cubs into making hasty matches. I am no green youth to be swayed by such nonsense.”

“The evidence is there for those with eyes to see,” Tarek persisted. “Those who reach maturity and refuse to bond grow increasingly unstable. The beast side strengthens while the rational mind weakens. Eventually, nothing remains but the beast.”

“Then I shall be the exception,” he replied coldly. “I have no intention of binding myself to a female who seeks only my position and wealth. When I find one worthy of being my mate, I will consider it. Until then, I will hear no more of this curse.”

Tarek’s eyes flashed with frustration. “My lord, the signs are already present. Your temper grows shorter, your control more tenuous. The beast stirs more frequently now.”

“Enough!” he roared, feeling his fangs lengthen as rage surged through him. The familiar heat of transformation prickled along his spine, and he fought to contain it.

Tarek took a step back, his ears flattening in submission, but his eyes remained resolute. “As you command, my lord. But remember my words when the beast begins to take control.”

“I am Malrik of House Vantar,” he declared arrogantly. “My will is stronger than any supposed curse. I will bond when I find a worthy mate, not before. Now enough of this. The celebration awaits.”

He turned away, dismissing both the advisor and his warnings. But as he moved through the crowd, the lights began to dim. The music became discordant. The guests’ faces blurred, their features melting away until only their glowing eyes remained, all fixed accusingly on him.

Pain lanced through his body. He doubled over, gasping, as his bones began to crack and reshape themselves. Fur sprouted from his skin. His hands twisted into claws. He’d transformed before, but it had never been like this.

“The curse finds you,” a chorus of voices intoned. “As it finds all who refuse a mate.”

He tried to deny it, to fight the transformation, but the beast was too strong. It consumed him, shredding his rational mind, leaving only hunger and rage and loneliness. Endless loneliness.

Then, through the darkness, a scent. Sweet, unfamiliar, compelling. Human. A flash of blonde curls. Hazel eyes that showed no fear.

Bella.

The beast stilled. Listened. Something long dormant stirred within it.

Hope.

He jerked awake, a soft whine escaping his throat. The dream clung to him, more vivid and coherent than any he’d experienced since his transformation. Was it memory or merely his fractured mind attempting to make sense of his condition?

He didn’t know. But as he looked down at the small human female sleeping peacefully in his arms, he felt certain of one thing: she was important. Her presence was changing him, awakening parts of himself he’d thought lost forever.

She stirred slightly in her sleep, murmuring something unintelligible. Without thinking, he stroked her hair, his claws retracting to allow the gentle touch. She sighed and nestled closer to his warmth.

Mine , the beast insisted.

Not yet , his rational side countered. Perhaps never. She is human. Free. Not bound by our ways.

But as moonlight shone through the windows, illuminating her peaceful face, both sides of his nature agreed on one thing: whatever happened next, he would protect her. From others, from himself if necessary.

Even if it meant eventually letting her go.