Page 45

I wake slowly, as though surfacing from the bottom of an ice lake.

The first thing I notice is the light. Dim, pale, filtered through the dense canopy of the forest above. It could be morning or late afternoon—I can’t tell. Time feels fractured, unreal. I don’t know how long I’ve been lying here. Hours? Days? Maybe more.

The air is still. Too still.

There are no birds, no rustling of leaves, no movement from the forest around me. Even the insects are gone. The entire woods feel hollow, emptied out, like every living thing fled before I woke.

I try to move. My limbs respond, stiff and slow, like they belong to someone else. My muscles ache. My skin is raw. The only sharp pain left is in my head—a deep, rhythmic pounding, as if something inside my skull is trying to break its way out.

I touch my forehead, and my fingertips graze two small, hard points rising beneath the skin.

Not bone bruises. Not scabs.

They’re velvet antlers. Tiny, but growing.

The realization settles over me like cooling lava, heavy and final.

I feel it now—the curse the creature passed to me. It slithers through my veins like cold fire, eating away what’s left, until whatever I was before… I’m not anymore.

I don’t panic. I don’t scream. I welcome it.

For a moment, I hear it again. Cackling.

Then I realize it’s coming from me.

I look beside me. Where its body once lay, there is only a ruin—scattered bones, picked clean and sun-bleached. It’s been a long time. The skull lies where it rolled, stained with dried blood and dirt.

I push myself upright, bones creaking under my skin.

It takes some effort. Not because of a lack of strength. But because everything feels brand new. My arms and legs are thinner now, stretched too long, too lean. I move differently.

But even uncoordinated, I don’t stumble when I stand. My steps are silent, too smooth. I barely disturb the leaves beneath me.

When I look down at myself, I see the evidence of what I’ve survived—or become.

My body is caked in blood and filth. Sweat clings to me in cold patches.

Dirt is smeared across my stomach and chest. There are other stains, too.

Saliva. Semen. Old wounds and newer ones, dried and crusted.

I don’t want to remember what happened before I woke. I just know Bunny died.

I feel disgusting.

But more than that, I feel something deeper, something worse.

Hunger .

It coils in my gut like a starving animal. Not normal hunger—not emptiness, not craving—but need. Impossible to overcome. My mouth waters in the worst way, and my jaw aches with the memory of the creature’s heart. The heat of it in my hands. The taste.

I need to feed.

Before I think, I begin to walk. I don’t know where I’m going, only that I have to move.

The woods stretch around me, familiar and wrong. I feel hunted, though nothing is chasing me. Or maybe I feel like the hunter now, and that’s worse.

My senses are sharper than they’ve ever been.

I can hear the flutter of a leaf falling a dozen yards away.

I can feel the pulse of the earth beneath my feet as I stomp without a sound.

I can smell everything—the moss, the sap, the wet bark, old blood.

I can taste the decay of long-dead things on the tip of my tongue.

Farther off, I catch the scent of water and I follow it.

When I reach the creak, I drop to my knees and drink. The water is cold, clean, but it does nothing to dull the emptiness inside me. I splash some of it on my skin, trying to wash off the filth, the blood, the memories.

It doesn’t help.

I glance around. The forest is still lifeless. Nothing stirs. No birds call. No deer move through the trees. Nothing dares to come close.

It takes me a moment to understand why.

It’s me.

They know. Whatever I am now, I sit at the top of the food chain. They feel it the way I do. I’m not prey anymore. Not even a human.

I am the thing that devours.

The hunger sharpens again, worse than before. It burns low and steady like a flame that won’t go out, no matter how much you try to put it down.

And then, something sweet and familiar hits my nostrils.

Fur and musk and sex.

My boys.

I smile to myself as I stand. The hunger twists inside me and turns into a different kind. More potent. Ravenous. Settling deep in my core.

I’m swallowed by it. But I don’t try to fight it. I don’t even want to.

I track the trail of pheromones back to the cabin, drawn like it’s a calling to me.

That old, wooden dump is still there. Half-rotted, tucked between skeletal trees and sagging earth, as though the forest itself wants to forget it exists. It smells like mold and old blood. Like smoke that never quite cleared. And it smells like them , so fucking delicious I shiver in excitement.

The hunger inside me growls, and I know that nothing will stand in my way.

I lift my head to the sky and whistle. Just one long, shrill note that cuts through the silence like a blade.

Something stirs inside the cabin. Footsteps. Boards creak. A shadow shifts behind the broken window before the door opens.

He steps out.

Not Ghost.

Tyorin.

He’s huge—taller even than Doruun—half-man, half-elk. His fur-covered body ripples with muscle and raw strength, antlers glinting in the sunlight. He’s magnificent. I’ve never seen anyone, anything , more stunning than him—not even the face of that psycho bastard I loved.

My body trembles. From crave. From lust. From hate.

How could he do this to me?

Tyorin squints at me like he’s not sure it’s really me. Maybe part of him hopes it isn’t. Or maybe he’s as excited as I am?

Curious, he approaches closer. “Little bunny?”

Behind him, the others follow. His brothers. The ones who laughed when he tied me down. The ones who watched. The ones who took turns.

Rage flames inside me. At them. For everything they did.

And more so at myself. Because I’ve grown so attached to them—to pain, to pleasure, to humiliation—that I missed them.

The air is thick with tension, with anticipation. They watch me, their eyes wide, their breaths shallow, as if they can sense the change in me.

I step forward without knowing it, my chin up high, my gaze steady. Even in my new body, they still dwarf me, their size imposing, their power undeniable. But I’m not afraid anymore. I am their equal.

No.

I am their superior .

And I’m the one in control now.

I tilt my head. “You thought you’d seen the last of me, didn’t you?” My voice sounds strange even to me—lower, raw, threaded with something that isn’t entirely human. There’s something ancient behind it. Something that doesn’t ask.

Tyorin takes the final step, careful but not scared, closing the distance.

He shakes his head, his ears twitching. “Quite the contrary—we’ve been waiting for you.

” His eyes soften, his voice dropping to a guttural murmur.

“Every second without you felt unbearable. Like a void nothing could fill, aching to be whole again.”

I hum, caught off guard. Something in my stirs. I hesitate.

How can I trust him… them after everything?

But he’s already sinking to his knees. And I can’t focus on anything else but that beautiful beast submitting to me.

“We wanted you. We needed you. Long before you ever stepped into these woods. Just after seeing you through his eyes, we knew we had to have you.”

He raises his hands—tentative and reverent—reaching for my legs. His fingertips tremble as they brush my thighs, then he leans in, pressing his lips to the inside of one.

I grab his antlers to steady myself. To remain in power.

Yet, the hunger blinds me. Makes me weak to his words. Makes me want to believe.

“The only way to us was through him,” he whispers against my skin. “So we lied. We bled you open. We made you strong. You were never the offering. You were the ritual. And now, you’re forever part of the forest. Forever here with us.”

His mouth freezes as I force his head back. His eyes meet mine. And in that moment, he knows. He created something he can’t contain.

“You have no idea what you’ve made.” I smile, baring my teeth. “Now it’s your turn to scream.”

His eyes flash gold, like he’s enjoying this, and his grip tightens. “No, baby,” he growls, but there’s a playful edge to his voice. “Now I worship you.” His tongue flicks out, long and wide, tracing a wet trail up my inner thigh, right to where I ache for him most.

My head falls back, my lips part in a silent moan, as I feel the cool metal of the piercing dragging over my slit. I can’t focus, I don’t question. He’s so fucking good at this, I’m losing my mind.

My hips grind into his eager mouth as his tongue works relentlessly, lapping at me with a fervor that matches my need.

Then, I’m surrounded by them, their bodies pressing close, their heat enveloping me. They touch me like I’m a goddess, their hands and mouths worshiping every inch of my skin.

And I melt into them.

The forest is alive with the sounds of their adoration—growls, whines, and low, guttural moans that echo through the trees.

The air is thick with the scent of musk, fur, and desire.

I’m at the center of it all, basking in every second.

I finally feel wanted. Accepted. Adored.

No matter how sick and twisted it is. Even poisoned, it’s love. And it’s ours.

Then Tyorin stands, towering over me. I stroke his cock with both hands, the barbells catching on my skin, still there, even though he’s a beast now.

“I know how much you love them, so I kept them for you,” he says, noticing how my brows furrow.

“Did you lie about him, too?” I ask. And I hate that I still hope… I hate that it still hurts.

“No, that was all true.” Damn him . “But you’ll always have a part of him. The best part of him.”

I giggle as his words settle, warm and comforting, like sunlight after a storm.