A Name for the Monster
1094 Words
Varek's POV
She stirred before the sun rose.
The fire had burned low, casting only shadows now. Cold clung to the cabin, seeping into the floorboards, the walls, the silence between us.
But I felt her waking before she moved.
Her heartbeat shifted.
Faster. Lighter. A rhythm I was learning like a song I hadn’t asked to hear.
She sat up, the blanket slipping down her shoulders. Her skin gleamed pale in the dim light, and her hair spilled like ink across the old sheets.
“You’re still here,” she said quietly.
I didn’t move from the doorway.
“You thought I wouldn’t be.”
She rubbed her eyes with one hand, pulled her knees to her chest. “You’re not exactly the stick-around type.”
My jaw ticked. “You don’t know me.”
She glanced over. “Then tell me your name.”
Silence.
She waited.
I let it stretch. I didn’t like the way it tasted, giving her something real. Names were power. And I had been stripped down to power alone.
But she was mine.
She had the right to know.
“Varek,” I said at last.
She blinked slowly, tasting it. “Varek,” she repeated.
The bond flared.
“Okay, Varek,” she said, quieter now. “Call me Lizzy. All my friends do.”
Friends.
The word landed somewhere low in my gut.
I stepped forward.
She stiffened.
“You think I’m your friend?” I asked, voice low.
She opened her mouth, but I didn’t let her answer.
One more step, and I was in front of her. I caught her wrist—gently, but firm—and pulled her to her feet. She gasped, and I spun her, pressing her back to the bed frame.
She didn’t fight.
But her breath came quick, sharp.
I leaned in—mouth inches from hers. Her skin burned beneath my hand. The tether between us thrummed like a live wire.
“You don’t get to call me that,” I said, voice rough. “I am not your friend.”
Her lips parted.
Nyra surged in her eyes.
And I felt the spark.
The first real one.
It shot through us—through me—like lightning tasting blood.
She was shaking now, not with fear, but with need. And I wasn’t doing any better.
I dipped my head to her neck, inhaled.
She smelled like wild rain and soft rebellion.
“You are mine,” I whispered. “And I—am yours.”
My mouth grazed her throat.
Then I pushed away before I broke.
She sat down hard on the edge of the bed, breathless.
I turned, pacing toward the wall.
But the past caught me anyway.
Blood.Chains.Firelight dancing on stone.
My father's voice ringing in my skull.
“Kill it. If it bleeds, you strike. If it cries, you silence it. If it runs—hunt it until it begs.”
I was eight when he broke my first rib.
Ten when I was thrown into the pit with the feral one.
Twelve when I watched my mother’s cell seal shut, her lullabies cut off mid-note.
The Dread Alpha trained me to destroy.
Not to feel.
Not to want.
But here I was.
Wanting.
Needing.
Her.
My eyes snapped open. The fire had almost gone out.
And Lizzy was standing now, barefoot near the door, her expression tight.
I followed her gaze.
Outside the cabin window, just at the edge of the trees—shadows moved.
Boots in dirt.
Six.
No—seven.
I caught the scent before I saw them.
Her pack.
Her father.
The Beta.
That one—Caleb.
His scent clung to Lizzy’s memories. I hated it.
I felt the shift rise under my skin. The Lycan inside me snarled. I could rip them apart before they said a word. Burn them down. Leave no trace.
Lizzy stepped in front of the door.
“No,” she said, firm.
I didn’t answer.
“They’re not here to fight,” she added. “They’re here for me.”
“And they will bleed if they try to take you,” I said.
“I just want to talk.”
Her voice shook. But not with fear.
With resolve.
I watched her walk to the door. Open it.
Step out.
Into the clearing.
I followed.
The clearing was still, silent. The trees closed in like sentinels. The wind held its breath.
They stood in a loose semicircle, warriors half-shifted, but cautious. At the center, her father. Caleb at his right. The Beta at his left.
I stood behind Lizzy, arms folded.
Watching. Waiting.
“Elizabeth,” her father said, voice low, controlled. “This has gone far enough. Come home. We’ll figure this out.”
“There’s nothing to figure out,” she said. “I’m not coming back.”
“I’ve spoken with the Elders. You can be with Caleb.”
Lizzy went still.
I saw the anger rise in her.
“I don’t want Caleb.”
Caleb stepped forward, eyes locked on her. “I made a mistake,” he said. “I didn’t see you before. But I see you now. Come back with me.”
I didn’t move, but the wolf inside me surged forward, seething.
Lizzy stood her ground.
“No.”
Her father narrowed his eyes. “I command you—”
And then it happened.
Her body lit from within. Golden power spilled off her skin like sunlight turned to fury.
“I reject you as my Alpha,” she said. “And I reject your pack.”
The force of her words slammed into them like a shockwave. Her father staggered. The warriors flinched.
The Beta snarled. “You disrespect your bloodline—”
He lunged.
Fool.
Lizzy caught him midair, hand around his throat, lifting him clean off the ground. Her eyes were gold fire.
“You touch me again,” she said, voice like a storm, “and I will end you.”
She hurled him backward. He hit the ground hard, sliding through dirt and leaves.
No one moved.
No one dared.
Her father’s face turned ashen.
“Go,” she said. “While you still can.”
And they did.
All of them.
But not before Caleb looked back.
That look—hollow, dark, possessive—told me everything.
This wasn’t over.
I stepped beside her, silent.
The clearing was quiet again.
But a storm was coming.
And when it did, I’d remind them exactly what a Lycān was.
- Writer
