Page 13

CHAPTER 13

M alrik ran through the forest, branches whipping past his face, paws digging into the soft earth. His breath came in heavy pants, lungs burning as he pushed himself harder, faster. He wasn’t running towards anything—he was running away. Away from the keep. Away from her.

Her scent clung to his fur, embedded in his senses. Bella. The human female who smelled of metal and lightning and something indefinably sweet. His beast howled inside him, demanding he turn back, return to their territory, to their mate.

Mate.

The word sent a shock through him, momentarily breaking the beast’s hold. He stumbled, nearly falling as his stride faltered. Memories flickered through his mind again—fractured, disjointed, but undeniably his own. A grand hall filled with courtiers. Vultor females presented before him, each one rejected with casual disdain. A voice warning him of consequences.

The curse of the unmated Vultor.

Malrik shook his massive head, trying to clear it. These flashes of lucidity were becoming more frequent, more insistent. The beast still controlled his body, but something else—someone else—was awakening inside.

He reached a high ridge overlooking the valley and stopped, chest heaving. From this vantage point, he could see for miles. The mountains rising to the north. The human settlement to the south. The thick forest spreading between them.

His territory.

No—his land. His property. The distinction felt important somehow. The beast knew only territory, instinctively marked and defended. But Malrik—the male he had once been—understood ownership. Boundaries. Maps.

His gaze drifted to a seemingly unremarkable section of forest to the east. Nothing distinguished it from the surrounding woodland, yet he knew what lay concealed there. The Vultor enclave. His… people.

Seren would be there. The alpha. Not the strongest of the Vultor who had settled on Cresca, but the most balanced. The most controlled. Malrik had kept himself apart from the pack, too proud to submit to another’s leadership, but he remembered Seren. Respected him, even.

Perhaps Seren could help him. The alpha might know something about this curse, about why Malrik’s rational side was resurfacing now after being lost to the beast for so long.

The thought had barely formed when his beast reared up in violent protest. A snarl ripped from his throat, echoing across the valley. His claws dug into the rocky ground, gouging deep furrows.

No! The alpha would take their mate. Would claim what belonged to them.

Images flashed through his mind—Bella in Seren’s arms, Bella submitting to the alpha, Bella leaving the keep forever—and his thoughts dissolved in a red haze of fury. The beast took control again, turning him back toward the keep, driving him forward with single-minded purpose.

Mine. Mine. MINE.

The journey back passed in a blur of motion and primal need. He burst through the keep’s entrance, skidding across the stone floor, claws scrabbling for purchase. Her scent was stronger now, guiding him through the corridors. He followed it to the kitchen, heart pounding against his ribs.

Bella stood with her back to him, hair pulled up in a messy knot, coverall streaked with grease. She was humming to herself, fingers dancing across the replicator’s control panel. The machine emitted a series of soft beeps in response to her commands.

She must have sensed his presence because she turned, a triumphant smile lighting her face. “I fixed it! The POTTS is operational. I had to bypass the original power coupling and?—”

Her words ended in a breathless squeak as he crossed the room in two strides, pulling her into his arms. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, inhaling deeply, letting her scent wash over him. The beast inside him calmed immediately, the frantic energy draining away, replaced by a purring satisfaction.

She’s here. She’s safe. She’s ours.

It took him several moments to realize she wasn’t struggling. Her body was tense, yes, but she wasn’t trying to escape his embrace. Slowly, cautiously, he pulled back enough to look down at her.

Her eyes were wide, but not with fear. She studied his face with open curiosity, her head tilted slightly to one side. “You’re different,” she murmured.

She lifted a hand, hesitated, then touched his cheek. His bare cheek.

He froze. The sensation of her fingers against his skin sent a shock through his entire body. Not fur. Skin. He raised his own hand to his face, feeling smooth flesh where there had been coarse fur just hours before.

He had partially transformed back to his Vultor form.

His mind raced, trying to process what was happening. The beast was still present—he could feel it coiled inside him—but it no longer controlled him completely. His thoughts were clearer than they had been in… how long? Years? Decades?

Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, feather-light. “Your eyes are still the same,” she whispered. “Still yellow. Still… you.”

Something in her voice, in her touch, broke through the last of his hesitation. He leaned down, drawn by an instinct more powerful than the beast’s hunger had ever been.

Their lips touched.

The contact was gentle at first, tentative. Her lips were soft, warm. She made a small sound in the back of her throat—surprise or pleasure, he couldn’t tell—and then she was kissing him back, her hand sliding to the nape of his neck.

The beast inside him surged forward, not fighting for control but demanding more. The kiss deepened and became hungry, desperate. His arms tightened around her waist, lifting her off the ground. Her body pressed against his, soft curves against hard muscle.

Claim her. Mark her. Make her ours forever.

The intensity of his need shocked him. Horrified, he wrenched himself away, setting her back on her feet and stepping backwards until he hit the opposite wall. His chest heaved as if he’d been running for miles again. His claws—still present despite his partial transformation—had extended, nearly piercing the fabric of her coverall.

He could have hurt her. Could still hurt her.

She stood where he’d left her, cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted. She looked dazed, breathless. Beautiful.

“I’m sorry,” he managed, his voice a rough approximation of speech after so long communicating only in growls. “I shouldn’t have?—”

“Don’t.” She took a step toward him, then stopped when he flinched back. “Don’t apologize.”

“Dangerous.” The word came easier this time. “I’m dangerous.”

“You won’t hurt me.” She said it with such conviction, such certainty.

If only she knew how close he’d come. How the beast inside him had howled for him to claim her, to sink his teeth into the soft skin of her neck, to mark her as his mate for all to see.

“You don’t understand,” he growled, frustration mounting as he struggled to form the words, to make her see. “The beast—it wants—I want?—”

He couldn’t finish. Couldn’t tell her what he wanted to do to her. With her.

She took another step towards him, her expression softening. “I think I understand more than you realize.” She gestured to his face, his partially transformed body. “This is happening because of me, isn’t it? I’m affecting you somehow.”

He closed his eyes, unable to look at her. She was too perceptive, too unafraid. And she was right. Her presence was changing him, awakening parts of himself he’d thought lost forever.

“The curse,” he said finally, the words dragged from some deep part of his memory. “Unmated Vultor. Beast takes over.”

Her sharp intake of breath told him she understood the implications. “And I’m… what? Breaking the curse?”

“Or making it worse.” He opened his eyes, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “The beast wants you. Wants to claim you. As mate.”

The word hung between them, heavy with meaning. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t back away. Didn’t run. Instead, she took another step toward him, close enough now that he could feel the warmth radiating from her body.

“And what do you want, Malrik?” she asked softly. “Not the beast. You.”

What did he want? He barely remembered how to want anything beyond the beast’s primal needs. Territory. Food. Safety.

But looking at Bella—brave, brilliant Bella with her grease-stained coverall and questioning eyes—he found he did want. Wanted with an intensity that had nothing to do with the beast and everything to do with the male he had once been.

He wanted her smile, her touch, her mind. Wanted to hear her talk about machines and replicators and all the things she loved. Wanted to protect her, provide for her, prove himself worthy of her.

“Everything,” he whispered, the truth torn from him. “I want everything.”

Her expression softened, a small smile curving her lips. She reached for him again, but he caught her wrist before she could touch him.

“Not like this,” he said, voice rough with restraint. “Not with the beast still so close. Not until I understand what’s happening to me.”

Disappointment flickered across her face, quickly replaced by determination. “Then we’ll figure it out together.”