I Bled For The Beast

FOUR

He ran.

I didn't know wolves could run like that. Not just fast and furious. Kael moved through the trees like the forest itself had opened up to swallow us. His hand crushed mine. My bag bounced against my ribs. My lungs screamed.

Behind us, Elias's truck engine faded.

Then stopped.

Then came the howl.

Not a hunting howl. A claiming howl. Elias was marking territory he'd already lost.

Kael didn't slow down.

We ran until the trees changed. Until the pines gave way to old oaks. Until the ground went soft and marshy under my ruined boots. Until I couldn't feel my legs anymore.

Then we ran more.

He stopped at a cabin.

Not a nice cabin. Not the kind with electricity, running water and soft beds. This was a hunter's shack—four walls, a tin roof, a door that hung crooked on its hinges. Moss grew on the north side. The windows were boarded up.

Kael pushed the door open. It groaned like something dying.

"Inside," he said.

I didn't move. My thighs were shaking. My chest was heaving. Sweat had soaked through my shirt, and my curls were plastered to my face like wet ropes.

"I can't," I gasped.

Kael turned. Looked at me. His eyes were different now, lighter somehow. Not gold like Elias's. Silver. Like old coins. Like moonlight on water.

"Yes, you can," he said.

He didn't carry me. Didn't scoop me up like I was some damsel. He just stood there, holding the door, waiting.

So I walked.

One step. Two. Three. My knees buckled on the fourth. I caught myself on the doorframe, nails digging into rotten wood.

Kael didn't help.

He just watched.

And somehow, that was exactly what I needed.

Inside was worse than outside.

One room. Dirt floor. A fireplace full of cold ash. A mattress in the corner, stained, thin, ancient. No sheets. No blankets. Just bare yellow foam and the smell of old rain.

I dropped my bag. Leaned against the wall. Slid down until I was sitting on the dirt.

"You live here?" I asked.

"No."

"Then what is this?"

Kael crouched in front of me. His knees popped. He was tired too I could see it now. The shadows under his eyes. The tightness in his jaw. The way his hands trembled just slightly before he stilled them.

"This is where I go when I don't want to be found," he said.

"By who?"

"Anyone."

I looked around again. The dirt. The cold. The mattress.

"Anyone won't find you here," I said. "Neither will central heating."

Kael's mouth twitched. Almost a smile.

"You're cold."

"I'm freezing."

He stood up. Shrugged off his jacket. Held it out.

I stared at it. At him.

"You want me to take your jacket?"

"I want you to stop shivering. It's distracting."

I took the jacket.

It was heavy. Warm. Lined with something soft, fleece, maybe, or old wool. It smelled like him. Smoke and pine and that darker thing I couldn't name.

I pulled it on. The sleeves hung past my fingers. The hem fell to my thighs.

It felt like being held.

"Better?" he asked.

"No," I said. "But I'll live."

He built a fire.

Not with magic or wolf tricks. Just old-fashioned work. Kindling. Matches. Patient breaths until the flames catch. The cabin warmed up fast—too fast, almost. Heat pressed against my face while my back stayed cold against the wall.

Kael sat across from me. Not close. Not far. Just... present.

The firelight moved across his face. Made the scars on his knuckles look like rivers. Made his eyes look like molten silver.

"Why did you come for me?" I asked.

"I told you."

"You said you were offering a choice. That's not a reason."

Kael was quiet for a long time. The fire crackled. Somewhere outside, an owl called.

"Because I saw you," he said finally. "In your kitchen. Slicing apples no one would eat. Bleeding into a towel no one would wash. And you just... stood there. Letting it happen. Like you'd forgotten you were allowed to stop the bleeding."

His voice was low. Rough. Like the words were costing him something.

"I know what that's like," he said. "Forgetting you're allowed to stop."

I wrapped my arms around myself. His jacket swallowed me.

"Who made you forget?" I asked.

Kael's jaw tightened.

"No one," he said. "Everyone. Myself."

He reached into his shirt. Pulled out a chain—silver, old, tarnished. At the end of it was a ring. A woman's ring. Small. Delicate. The kind of thing you'd give someone you loved.

"My mate," he said. "Before the curse. Before the madness. Before I became whatever I am now."

I stared at the ring.

"She died?"

"She was taken. By the same wolves who cursed me. They wanted a king. They made one. They just forgot to leave anything human behind."

He tucked the ring back under his shirt.

"I don't feel things the way I used to," he said. "I don't love. I don't grieve. I don't hope. The curse burned all of that out of me."

"Then why are you here?" I asked. "Why do you care if I bleed?"

Kael looked at me.

The firelight caught his face. His scars. His hunger. His horrible, beautiful emptiness.

"Because when I tasted your blood," he said, "I felt something for the first time in seven years."

"What did you feel?"

He leaned forward. Slowly. Like he was giving me time to run.

I didn't run.

"Hunger," he said. "But not for your body. For your wreckage. For the pieces of you that Elias threw away. For the parts of you that are still bleeding even when the cut is closed."

His hand came up. Touched my face. His palm was rough against my cheek. His thumb traced my lower lip.

"I want to ruin you," he whispered. "And I want to put you back together. And I don't know which one will happen first. And I don't care."

I should have been scared.

I should have run.

But I'd been running my whole life. From foster homes. From packs that didn't want me. From a mate who forgot I existed.

I was done running.

"You want to taste me again," I said.

"Yes."

"Then do it."

Kael's eyes went dark. Not silver anymore. Black. Bottomless. The kind of dark that swallows light.

He didn't kiss me.

He bit me.

Not hard. Not gentle. Somewhere in between. His teeth sank into the curve of my neck right where Elias used to mark me. Right where the bond sat, dormant and dying.

I gasped. My hands flew to his shoulders. I should have pushed him away.

I pulled him closer.

His mouth was hot. His tongue pressed against the wound, lapping at the blood. He made a sound, low, guttural, almost a growl. It vibrated against my throat.

I felt it everywhere.

My thighs. My stomach. The place between my legs that hadn't been touched in six months.

He pulled back. His lips were red. His eyes were wild.

"Tell me to stop," he said. His voice was wrecked. "Tell me now, or I won't be able to."

I looked at him. At the monster. At the king. At the broken, starving thing wearing a man's face.

"Don't stop," I said.

He kissed me.

Not carefully. Not kindly. He kissed me like I was the last thing he'd ever taste. His hands fisted in my hair. His body pressed mine against the wall. The dirt floor was cold under me. His jacket was warm around me.

And somewhere in the dark, miles away, Elias was still howling.

I didn't hear him.

I couldn't.

Because Kael was inside my mouth, and my blood was on his tongue, and for the first time in seven years, he wasn't empty.

And neither was I.