BOUND TO THE BEAST I HATE

THE MAN FROM THE FLAMES

Pain returned before memory did. It crept into Lyra’s body slowly, dull, heavy, spreading through her limbs like cold water. Her head throbbed, her wrists ached, her muscles screamed as she shifted, she tried to move, chains rattled, her eyes snapped open.

The ceiling above her was unfamiliar, stone, rough, dimly lit by flickering torchlight, the air smelled of earth and something else, something wild, animal, dangerous. Her pulse quickened, she sat up too fast, dizziness washing over her, but she ignored it, her gaze dropped to her wrists, bound, metal cuffs locked around them, attached to a chain fixed into the wall behind her.

Rage flared instantly, she pulled hard, the chain didn’t budge, her breathing grew shallow. She scanned the room quickly: stone walls, narrow window, heavy wooden door, no easy escape, she’d been captured by them, her jaw tightened. No, she wouldn’t panic, panic was weakness, and weakness got you killed.

Footsteps sounded outside, slow, measured, Lyra stilled, every muscle in her body tensed.

The door creaked open, two men stepped inside first, large, armed, their eyes sharp with suspicion, not wolves in full form, but she knew what they were, she could feel it in the way they moved, Predators in human skin. One of them glanced at her, “She’s awake.”

The other nodded, “Good, he’ll want to see her.”

A chill slid down her spine. Her heart began to pound, not from fear, she told herself, from anticipation, from hatred. They stepped aside.

And then, he walked in, time stopped, the years fell away in an instant, the flames, the smoke, the screams, his face illuminated by firelight.

Lyra’s breath caught in her throat. It was him, older now, harder, the sharpness in his features deeper, his presence heavier. But she would have known him anywhere, the man who burned her world. He stopped a few steps inside the room, his eyes dark, piercing locked onto hers, the air shifted. Lyra felt it, something strange, electric, pulling tight in her chest, her heart skipped, then pounded harder, No.

She crushed the feeling immediately, hatred surged forward, drowning everything else. “You,” she breathed, her voice shaking, not with fear, but fury.

His expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his gaze, Recognition. “Yes,” he said quietly, the sound of his voice hitting her harder than she expected, low, steady, calm.

She yanked against the chains again, “You killed them.”

The guards shifted, glancing between them. He didn’t look away, “I know.” The simple admission fueled her anger.

“That’s all you have to say?” she snapped, “You slaughtered my family, burned my home, and you say ‘I know’?” Her voice rose, breaking at the edges.

Still, he didn’t react, he studied her like she was something fragile, something dangerous, something he didn’t understand, then he took one step closer.

Lyra’s instincts screamed, her body reacted before her mind did. She lunged forward, the chain stretching tight as she tried to reach him, “If I wasn’t chained, I’d kill you,” she hissed.

For the first time, something like emotion crossed his face, not fear, not anger, something darker. “I don’t doubt that,” he replied.

The room fell silent, the tension thickened. One of the guards cleared his throat, “Alpha—”.

Lyra froze, Alpha. The word echoed in her mind. Of course, he was still their leader, still the monster who commanded them, her hatred deepened.

He raised a hand slightly, silencing the guard without looking away from her, then he stepped closer, too close.

Lyra could see the faint scar near his jaw, the exhaustion hidden behind his composure, the tension in his shoulders. He smelled like forest and smoke. Her chest tightened unexpectedly, she hated that, hated the awareness, hated the pull. He stopped just outside her reach, his gaze softened barely, and then everything changed, his pupils dilated, his breath caught.

Lyra felt it too, a sudden rush of heat flooding her veins, her heart slammed violently, her senses sharpening, the air between them seemed to vibrate, she sucked in a breath, What…?.

His jaw clenched, “No,” he whispered, almost to himself.

Lyra frowned, “What?”

He took a step back as if burned. The guards exchanged confused glances, “Alpha?” one asked carefully. He didn’t answer, his eyes were still locked on Lyra intensely, conflicted, almost… shaken, the realization hit him first.

She saw it, saw the moment it settled.

His voice came low, rough, “She’s… mine.”

Lyra’s stomach dropped, “What?” she demanded.

The guard stiffened, “You mean—”

“Yes,” he cut in sharply, the word hung heavy in the air.

Lyra’s confusion turned to anger, “Speak clearly, I don’t play your games.”

His gaze softened again, but this time there was something else in it, something dangerous. “You’re my mate,” Silence, the words didn’t register, then they did.

And Lyra laughed. It wasn’t amusing. It was sharp, broken, disbelieving. “You’re insane,” she said coldly. He didn’t respond. Her laughter faded, “You think I belong to you?” she continued, her voice dropping dangerously. “After what did you do?”

His jaw tightened, “It’s not about belonging.” “Then what is it?” she snapped.

He hesitated, for the first time, the powerful Alpha looked… uncertain. “It’s something deeper,” he said quietly, “Something neither of us chose.”

Rage exploded inside her. “I would never choose you!” she shouted, yanking hard against the chains, “I would rather die!” The words hit, she saw them land.

But he didn’t retaliate. Instead, something in his expression shifted, pain flickering briefly before it disappeared. “I know,” he said softly, "That made it worse.

She hated him more for it.

He turned slightly toward the guards, “Remove the chains.” They hesitated, “Alpha, she’s dangerous—”. “I know,” he repeated, “Do it.”

Lyra stilled, the cuffs were unlocked, the moment she was free, she moved, fast. Years of training guided her, she lunged for the nearest weapon on the guard’s belt, twisting, striking, the blade flashed in her hand, she turned and drove it straight toward his heart. The room exploded into motion, but he didn’t move. He stood there, watching her, the blade stopped a breath from his chest.

Her hand trembled, Why wasn’t he defending himself?"

“Do it,” he said quietly.

Her grip tightened, she wanted to, God, she wanted to, but something stopped her, not fear, not hesitation, something deeper, confusion, rage. And that strange pull is still tugging at her chest, she snarled and swung instead. The blade cut his arm, blood welled instantly.

The guards moved forward, but he stopped them with a sharp glance. Lyra stepped back, breathing hard, “That was your chance,” she said.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Next time, I won’t miss it.”

“I know,” he held her gaze.

And for the first time, Lyra realized something terrifying. He wasn’t afraid of her. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t even surprised, he was… accepting it, accepting her hatred, accepting her violence, as if he believed he deserved it. That unsettled her more than anything.

He turned toward the door, “You’re not a prisoner,” he said.

She scoffed. “Don’t lie to me.”

“You’re free to move within the pack,” he continued,“But you don’t leave.”

“So I’m a caged animal.”

“If that’s how you see it.”

She glared at him, “I will kill you.”

He paused at the doorway, without turning, he replied: “I know,” and then he left.

Lyra stood there, chest heaving, the blade still clutched in her hand, her world tilted, everything she believed in, clear lines of hate and revenge suddenly complicated, because the monster she spent years preparing to kill…had just called her his mate. And worse, a small, unwanted part of her heart had reacted. She dropped the blade, anger flooding her again. “No,” she whispered to herself, “I won’t feel anything for him.” But deep inside, the bond had already begun.