Bonded In Love

Chapter 4

A deep, resonant voice broke the silence—a voice belonging to the massive, shadowed wolf-beast. I did what any sane person would do: I screamed. It rang out, slicing through the quiet, reverberating in the night. The force of my terror almost sent me stumbling into a brutal fall, but the creature moved—faster than thought. One moment, he was crouched in a distant tree; the next, I was in his arms, pressed against his broad, furred chest as he leapt effortlessly between branches. His grip was firm, unyielding, and no matter how much I struggled, escape was out of the question.

He slips through the sliding door, swift and silent, the click of it shutting behind him barely registering over the chaos.

“Sit her down, honey!" "It's okay, listen, I—” My mother’s voice wavers, but I’m still fighting.

“If I let her go, she’ll lose it,” he says, his voice deep, steady—measured for control.

“Nyxie, stay calm. It’s Darius." "I’m going to let you go, but you have to stop screaming, alright?” His words soften, yet there’s strain beneath them, the weight of urgency pressing through.

I freeze, but my body trembles with the force of adrenaline still coursing through me.

“I need a nod—something,” he urges quietly.

I barely manage the motion, a jerky nod, and his grip loosens, his touch gentler now as he lets me go.

I stumbled backward, my heel catching on the couch behind me. My body moves on instinct—I scramble onto it, knees pulled tight to my chest, but the distance still feels dangerously insufficient. A surge of panic propels me further, slipping behind the couch, my breath sharp, uneven.

I stare at him, wild-eyed, as he lets out a guttural grunt, his face twisting in strain. His eyes squeeze shut, his body shudders, and then—slowly, seamlessly—the monstrous form unravels, shifting, shrinking until only his human self remains.

My breath hitches. My mind fights to process the impossible.

Then, a voice—soft, sorrowful—breaks through the haze.

“Nini…”

I whip my head toward my mother, only now realizing she’s been here all along.

“Oh, baby girl,” she murmurs, pain laced through every syllable.

“M-Mom…” My voice stammers, cracking under the weight of disbelief. “What’s—what’s happening? Why did he—” I choke on my own spit, barely forcing the words out. “Why did he turn into that? He’s… he’s not normal!”

The panic rises, spilling out, raw and uncontained.

He exhales sharply, nostrils flaring, frustration etched into his frown.

“Vessa, get me a cloth—vinegar or apple cider vinegar, now, before I lose it,” he growls, his voice rough with restraint.

She scrambles to comply, hurrying back and pressing the cloth into his hands. He wastes no time, pressing it over his nose and mouth, inhaling deeply, his tension visibly easing with each breath.

His eyes flicker toward me. “I’m not the only one who’s… different.”

Pulling out his phone, he turns the camera on, stepping closer. I instinctively duck, retreating from the encroaching reality—but then I see it.

The screen reflects something impossible.

I have… ears. Not human ones. Not soft, rounded curves, but upright, sharp—wolf-like. My canines gleam, elongated, predatory. My nails have tapered into fine points. My eyes—blue-green, eerily reflective—catch the light in a way that’s not normal.

I’m still me. But I’m not.

My breath quickens, the weight of realization pressing down.

“What’s happening!?” I choked out, wild-eyed, shifting my gaze from Darius to my mother.

Even my cat reacts; her growls and hisses sharply and defensively—but not at me. She’s locked onto Darius, eyes wide with confusion as she flicks her gaze toward me. My mom moves quickly, scooping her up to put her away, while I stay frozen behind the couch, fear anchoring me in place.

“You’re a half-werewolf, Nyxie,” Darius says, his voice quiet but firm, the vinegar-soaked cloth still pressed into his nose. Your father was one, and you inherited his traits. I’m sorry you’re only finding out now… You never showed any signs until recently.”

The words barely sink in before something shifts.

A scent—sharp, distinct—hits me, and instinct takes over. My ears twitch toward the sound of movement. My gaze snaps to the sliding door, and there—watching, waiting—glowing pairs of wolf eyes pierce through the darkness. The same ones that lingered while I was perched in the tree.

“W-why are there so many wolves out there?” I ask, my voice uneven, unsure.

Darius holds my stare for a moment, unreadable. I almost think he hasn’t heard me—until he finally speaks.

“Your scent. It’s overwhelming.”

My scent? Oh,—right. Even I can sense it now, thick and unfamiliar in the air.

“How do I—how do I turn it off?” I ask, awkward, desperate.

He huffs a short laugh, shaking his head. “You can’t just ‘turn it off.’ It’ll pass. This happens once a month for werewolf females when they reach the age to bond with their mate.”

A slow pause, then his brow furrows slightly. “Yours is early… Most don’t experience it until their mid-twenties or thirties. Not bad, just… uncommon.”

I keep staring, my breath unsteady. My mom returns, a fresh scratch marking her arm, and sinks into the chair at the table.

I glare at her, the anger twisting inside me as a low growl escapes my throat.

“When exactly were you planning to tell me, Mom?” My voice is rough, strained—as I speak, I can feel my teeth shifting, lengthening.

She buries her face in her hands, exhaling sharply. “I didn’t know this would happen." "I thought… I thought you didn’t have any traits." "You never showed any signs!” Her voice cracks, her sorrow raw.

“I’m so sorry, honey. So sorry.” Tears well in her eyes.

I step out from behind the couch, my body tense. “All the time we spent together, and you never thought to tell me?” My voice is sharp now, demanding answers, demanding something that makes sense.

Darius watches her, his gaze unreadable. She doesn’t offer an explanation—just wipes her tears.

I turned to both of them, the pressure in my chest building. “What happens now?” I demanded. “Look at me! I’m a… a freak!”

Darius tilts his head slightly, studying me. “You can’t transform completely?” His tone isn’t mocking—it’s genuinely curious.

I blinked at him. “Transform completely?” The words felt foreign to me.

“What do you mean?” I ask, pulse pounding. “Like… look like you did? That full—wolf… man… thing?”

He exhales, correcting me smoothly.

“Werewolf.”

“Werewolf…” I mutter, completely bewildered by having this surreal conversation. “I don’t think so.” My voice is quiet, uncertain, as I flick a glance at Darius, then my mom.

“Try,” he urges.

I stared at him, hesitation thick in the air, before sighing. I don’t know how.

I tense my stomach like I’m bracing for… something, like forcing a movement that isn’t there. But nothing happens.

“I can’t." "I don’t even know how,” I say, exasperation creeping into my tone.

Darius watches me, then exhales, the weight of something settling in his shoulders.

“We need to leave earlier than I planned,” he murmurs, more to himself than to us.

My mom’s head snaps up, alarm flickering in her eyes. “How soon?” she asks, surprised.

“This week,” he answers, his gaze landing firmly on me.

She blinks, shaking her head. “Darius, that’s—I have my job! I haven’t even given my two weeks’ notice. And Nyxie has her friends, her school—I have to unenroll her.”

He looks between us, calculating. “I’ll handle her school. You focus on work. We’re together now—I can help you with everything when you both come to live with me.”

He moves to sit, his expression darkening slightly. “But, Vessa, I don’t think you realize how serious this is.” His voice lowers, solemn, as he clasps her hand.

“She just developed her werewolf traits—at this late stage in her life.”

His gaze shifts to me, still half-hidden behind the couch. The cloth rests on his lap now—I guess my scent is tolerable.

“It’s like… if your daughter was just learning to walk. To eat. To breathe. To think for the first time. Or like she’s just starting school—she’d need to enroll in kindergarten when you move.”

He glances at me, catching the sheer shock on my face. “But that,” he adds quickly, “wouldn’t be an option.”

“We’ll need to consider homeschooling,” Darius says, his gaze soft with sympathy as he looks at my mom.

“Absolutely out of the question,” I snap, anger bubbling beneath my words.

He lifts an eyebrow, watching me.

“I have one year left! Can’t I just finish school here and leave after?” My voice drops, quiet but desperate.

My mom exhales, steady but firm. “And where would you live, Nini?”

“With Zev or Mira,” I reply quickly.

“Absolutely not!” She stands abruptly, tension crackling through her frame.

“I can’t just leave this town! My friends—my life—everything I planned! I was supposed to go to Horizon Art Institute!”

Darius studies me, weighing his words. Then, with deliberate calm, he picks up the cloth, folds it neatly, and sets it on the table.

“Even if you stayed, it wouldn’t be the same,” he says.

His tone is measured, but the weight behind it sinks deep.

“Every confrontation, every shift in emotion. Every full moon. Every cycle of your female month—each one will strip away the illusion. It will reveal what you truly are.”

He meets my gaze. “And then what, Nyxie? How will you explain it? How will you ensure your friends never see it—never get hurt by it?”

I inhale sharply, my breath unsteady.

“What…?” My voice is barely above a whisper. “That I'm a beast? A werewolf?”

Everything crashes down at once.

“Precisely,” Darius says.