Page 12

CHAPTER 12

B ella woke gradually, enveloped in unexpected warmth. She’d spent enough nights in her father’s drafty workshop to appreciate good heat, and this was luxurious—like being wrapped in a living furnace. She sighed contentedly before her eyes snapped open as memory returned.

The keep. The beast. Malrik .

She lay perfectly still, taking inventory of her situation. One massive arm was draped over her waist, heavy but not crushing. His chest pressed against her back, rising and falling with deep, even breaths. The robe she wore had twisted during the night, bunching uncomfortably at her waist.

She glanced down at the arm holding her and froze. The limb looked almost… normal. Well, not normal exactly—it was still massive, corded with muscle that no human could match. But the dark silver fur had receded, revealing slate-colored skin. Most startling of all, where fearsome claws had been, there were now fingers. Large strong fingers, but recognizably a hand rather than a beast’s paw.

What did it mean? Was he changing somehow?

Her scientific curiosity flared to life, but was immediately derailed when she shifted slightly and felt something hard pressing against her lower back. Heat flooded her face as she realized what it was.

Oh.

Well. That was… interesting. And potentially problematic.

He’d promised she was safe, and she believed him—or at least, she believed he meant it. But he was also clearly not entirely in control of himself. Best not to tempt fate.

She began to inch away, trying to extricate herself without waking him. She’d almost made it to the edge of the nest when a low growl rumbled through the chamber. Before she could react, his arm tightened around her waist. In one fluid motion, he rolled her onto her back and came down on top of her.

The transformation was immediate and shocking. The arm that had appeared almost human was once again covered in thick fur. Claws extended from his fingertips, digging into the furs beside her head. His face, which she hadn’t seen clearly in the darkness, was fully bestial—muzzle elongated, ears pointed, fangs gleaming.

Only his eyes remained the same—that intense, intelligent yellow that had haunted her thoughts since their first encounter.

Those eyes now traveled down her body, darkening as they fixed on where the oversized robe had fallen open, exposing the curve of her breast and the plane of her stomach. The glow in his eyes intensified, turning almost incandescent.

A shiver ran through her body, not entirely from fear. Something hot and unfamiliar coiled in her belly, a response she hadn’t anticipated and wasn’t sure how to process.

“You promised,” she whispered, finding her voice. “You said I’d be safe.”

His gaze snapped back to her face. Something like confusion flickered across his features, as if he were struggling to remember who or what he was.

He lowered his head slowly toward her neck, and she held her breath, her heart hammering against her ribs. His breath was hot against the sensitive skin of her throat.

“Mate,” he growled, the word barely recognizable as speech.

Before she could respond, his lips—softer than she would have imagined—pressed against her pulse point. The delicate scrape of fangs followed, not breaking the skin but letting her feel their presence, their potential.

Heat surged through her body, pooling low in her abdomen. This was nothing like the awkward fumbling she’d experienced with the village boys. This was primal, dangerous, and inexplicably compelling.

Then, as suddenly as he’d pinned her, Malrik leapt away. He stood at the edge of the nest, chest heaving, eyes wild. Without another sound, he turned and stalked from the room, his massive form disappearing into the shadows of the corridor.

She lay frozen for several heartbeats, staring at the empty doorway. Her hand drifted to her neck, fingers tracing where his mouth had been. She could still feel the phantom pressure of his body against hers, the weight of him both frightening and thrilling.

“What the hell was that?” she murmured to the empty room.

She sat up slowly, pulling the robe closed with trembling hands. The logical part of her brain—the part that methodically solved mechanical problems and never panicked when things went wrong—tried to make sense of what had just happened.

He’d called her “mate.” The word echoed in her mind, stirring something unexpected. She knew little about Vultor customs, but even she understood the significance of that term. Mates were for life among their kind. It wasn’t some casual designation.

And then there was his transformation—the way his arm had appeared almost normal while he slept, only to revert when he woke. Was the beast form something he could control? Or was it controlling him?

She sighed and swung her legs over the edge of the nest. Whatever was happening with Malrik would have to wait. She had work to do, and dwelling on the confusing mix of fear and attraction she’d just experienced wouldn’t help either of them.

She was about to go in search of her pack when she spotted it outside the bathing room door. He must have retrieved it sometime during the night. Touched by his thoughtfulness, she pulled out a clean coverall. The familiar garment comforted her—practical, functional, with no ambiguity about its purpose. Unlike everything else in this strange situation.

As she fastened the front clasps, she tried to organize her thoughts. The keep needed power, which meant getting the generators running again. Once she had power, she could work on the replicator system so they wouldn’t have to rely on Malrik’s hunting. And somewhere in all of that, she needed to figure out what was happening with her host.

“One problem at a time,” she told herself firmly. “Fix what you can fix.”

She tied her hair back with a strip of cloth from her pack and headed for the control room she’d discovered yesterday. The corridors were silent, with no sign of Malrik. Part of her was relieved; another part was inexplicably disappointed.

The control room was just as she’d left it—dusty, dim, but full of promise. She knelt beside the main panel and resumed her work, grateful for the distraction of mechanical systems that, while complex, followed logical rules.

Unlike the creature whose keep she now shared.

Hours passed as she immersed herself in her work. She traced circuits, cleaned connections, and did her best to decipher the Vultor writing on various components. Their language was surprisingly systematic, making it possible to guess at meanings based on context and repetition.

By midday, she’d identified the main power coupling and determined that the issue was primarily neglect rather than damage. The generators themselves appeared intact—they just needed to be reactivated and properly calibrated.

“Just need to reconnect this final circuit and…” she muttered, reaching deep into the panel.

A spark jumped between two connections, making her yelp and jerk her hand back. But before she could curse her carelessness, the panel hummed to life. Lights flickered on overhead, and a low vibration spread through the floor as dormant systems began to wake.

“Yes!” She pumped her fist triumphantly. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

She scrambled to her feet, wiping grimy hands on her coverall as she watched the control room transform. Displays illuminated, showing schematics of the keep’s various systems. The air circulation kicked in, stirring the dust that had settled over everything.

Excitement bubbled through her. With power restored, she could explore the keep’s full potential. The replicator could be next, then maybe the communications system. There might even be information stored in the computers about the Vultor, about Malrik himself.

Speaking of whom…

“Malrik?” she called out, suddenly wanting to share her success. “The power’s back on! Malrik?”

No answer came. The keep remained silent save for the gentle hum of machinery.

Her enthusiasm dimmed slightly. Where was he? Had he left the keep entirely? Was he avoiding her after what happened last night and this morning?

Telling herself she was just checking for any damage from the returning power, she wandered through the keep. As she looked into the grand hall, movement caught her eye—a shadow shifting near one of the massive windows that overlooked the mountains.

Malrik stood with his back to her, silhouetted against the afternoon light. His posture was rigid, hands clenched at his sides. Even from a distance, she could see the tension radiating from him.

She hesitated, unsure whether to approach or leave him to his thoughts. The memory of his body pressed against hers flashed unbidden through her mind, sending a fresh wave of heat through her.

“I got the power working,” she said finally, keeping her voice casual. “The replicator should be operational soon.”

He didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge her presence. But his ears—still pointed and covered with fur—twitched slightly.

“Look, about this morning…” she began, then faltered. What could she possibly say? Sorry your bestial side finds me attractive? Thanks for not eating me?

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said instead, surprising herself with the truth of it. “I should be, probably. But I’m not.”

His shoulders tensed further, the muscles bunching visibly beneath his fur.

“Maybe we should talk about what’s happening to you,” she continued, taking a cautious step forward. “The way your arm changed while you were sleeping. I think there might be?—”

“No.” The word came out as a growl, but it was clear enough.

“But if we could understand?—”

“Leave it.” He turned his head just enough for her to see his profile, the gleam of one yellow eye. “Dangerous.”

“For you or for me?” she asked softly.

He didn’t answer, just turned back to the window.

She sighed. She’d never been good at emotional conversations—machines were so much more straightforward. But something told her that whatever was happening with Malrik was the key to everything else in this strange situation.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you change your mind,” she said finally. “About talking. Or food. Or anything.”

She turned and walked away, feeling his gaze follow her but refusing to look back. Whatever was happening between them—whatever he’d meant by calling her “mate”—would have to wait. For now, she had a replicator to fix and a bargain to fulfill.

But as she made her way to the kitchen, she couldn’t help wondering if there was more to their arrangement than either of them had initially understood. The keep was coming back to life around her, systems awakening after years of dormancy.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that something similar was happening with its master.