Chapter three: Teeth Beneath
837 Words
The elevator ride down was silent.
Elara stood with her arms crossed, her long black dress clinging to her curves from the heat of Zayne’s mouth, his teeth, his fingers — the way he had taken her again, shamelessly, against the penthouse wall not five minutes earlier. Her skin still tingled where he’d bitten her shoulder, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make her whimper. Enough to leave a mark.
He hadn’t apologized. He’d looked her in the eye and said, “Mine.”
She should’ve laughed. Should’ve walked away.
But she didn’t.
Because when he said it, something inside her stirred — like a second heartbeat buried beneath her skin.
Now she stood next to him, lips still swollen, thighs pressed tight, and a raw ache deep between her legs.
The elevator stopped at the underground parking garage.
Zayne stepped out first, phone already in hand, barking orders at someone on the other end. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t need to.
The driver was already waiting beside a sleek black Bugatti. The kind of car you didn’t just buy — you earned. Or inherited through blood.
Elara slid into the passenger seat, pulling her long hair into a messy bun as Zayne slid behind the wheel. He didn’t speak again until they hit the road, the city a blur around them.
“I’m taking you home.”
Elara raised a brow. “What makes you think I want to go home?”
“You need rest,” he said flatly. “And answers.”
Her stomach clenched.
Answers? To what?
She turned to him. “Zayne… what happened last night?” she asked slowly. “That mark on your neck. It looked like…”
“Like what?” he asked, voice low.
She hesitated. “Like something not… human.”
He gripped the wheel tighter.
Elara felt the air shift. Not colder — thicker. Like the tension wasn’t between them anymore, but around them. Pressing.
Zayne pulled the car into a hidden turnoff off the highway, into a stretch of forest behind a private estate. The engine quieted. The only sound was her breath.
He turned to her. The playboy arrogance was gone. In its place was something else — raw. Wild.
“I wasn’t going to tell you this,” he said, voice rough. “But you’re not like other girls. I don’t know why, but… your scent—”
“My what?” she blinked.
Zayne exhaled, then suddenly reached behind his neck and yanked down the collar of his shirt.
The mark was still there — red, angry, glowing faintly.
Then, right before her eyes, it moved.
Elara gasped.
She leaned closer. “What the hell is that?”
Zayne held her gaze. “A blood bond.”
Her mouth parted. “That’s not real. That’s some fantasy bullshit—”
“I’m a werewolf, Elara.”
Silence.
Dead, deafening silence.
Then, she laughed. A single breathy sound. “Okay, I get it. This is a game. You take girls home, f**k them, and then tell them you sparkle in the moonlight—”
“I’m not a vampire,” he cut her off, eyes sharp.
“Zayne—”
“Touch it,” he whispered.
She hesitated, then slowly reached out, pressing a finger to the mark. It pulsed — warm and alive, as if it recognized her.
And suddenly, she couldn’t breathe.
Her chest tightened. Her ears rang.
Images slammed into her head — a forest, a full moon, howls, blood on leaves, her own hands soaked in red, claws where her fingers should be.
Her own scream shattered the silence.
She fell back in the seat, gasping.
“What the f**k was that!?” she cried out.
Zayne leaned over, gripping her face gently, forcing her to look at him. His voice was gravel.
“You’re not dying, Elara.”
She blinked, dazed. “What?”
“The illness. The fatigue. The pain. That’s not sickness. It’s your body changing. Awakening.”
She stared at him, lips trembling. “No. No, I have a diagnosis. I’ve seen specialists. They told me—”
“They were wrong,” he growled. “They’re trying to treat you like a human. You’re not fully one anymore.”
The wind howled outside. Trees bent. Shadows shifted.
Elara’s hands were shaking. She clutched her chest.
“But… I don’t understand.”
Zayne nodded slowly, almost to himself. “I didn’t either. Not until I smelled you. I knew you were like me. Not turned — born. But suppressed.”
“Suppressed by what?”
He looked at her, gaze unreadable. “Someone didn’t want you to awaken. Maybe even used drugs to keep the wolf inside you… quiet.”
Elara’s eyes burned.
All the pain. All the confusion. The blood tests. The strange fevers.
It had never been cancer.
It had been her.
And now, she wasn’t just spiraling into death.
She was spiraling into something much more dangerous.
- Writer
