The moon was rising.
I could feel it before I saw it — a pull low in my stomach, a tightening in my chest, like invisible fingers curling around my ribs. The fever I'd been drowning in for days wasn't breaking; it was shifting, sharpening into something else.
Something alive.
I sat on the edge of my bed, breathing too fast. The air in my apartment was thick, clinging to my skin like steam, but every nerve felt cold. My hands shook as I pressed them against my knees. The clock on the wall ticked too loudly, every second drilling into my skull.
The scent of the night slipped in through the cracked window — damp earth, leaves, and something coppery that made my teeth ache.
Without deciding to, I stood. My feet carried me to the door. Every part of me screamed that I should stay inside, lock myself in, chain the door if I had to. But another voice, deeper and hungrier, whispered Go.
I didn't grab a jacket. I didn't even grab shoes. The hallway blurred around me, my senses narrowing to the pulse pounding in my ears. I took the stairs two at a time, burst out into the street, and the night air hit me like a drug.
The moon was just clearing the treeline beyond town, huge and swollen, bleeding light across the horizon. My skin prickled. My heartbeat fell into rhythm with something far older than me.
And I ran.
Not toward anywhere I knew. My feet pounded the pavement, then dirt, then leaf-littered ground as the city fell away. The deeper I went into the woods, the louder everything became — the rush of blood in my veins, the whisper of wind through the branches, the flutter of tiny wings somewhere overhead.
The pain hit me like a trap snapping shut.
I collapsed to my knees, clutching my stomach as heat exploded under my skin. Bones groaned and shifted, too fast and too slow at the same time. I gasped, my breath turning to snarls I didn't recognize as mine. My fingers clawed into the dirt, nails lengthening into curved, black points.
I screamed — but it came out as a howl.
My spine arched, muscles locking and tearing and reforming. The scent of my own sweat was sharp in my nose, mingled with the salt of tears. My vision blurred, then cleared too much, the darkness peeling back until I could see every trembling leaf, every shiver of movement.
When it was over, I wasn't on my knees anymore. I was crouched low, every muscle quivering, the ground beneath my hands and feet strange and familiar at the same time. My breaths came in ragged bursts, my mouth full of sharp teeth.
And I could smell everything.
A deer, somewhere to my left. A fox, further away. The wet decay of fallen logs. The tang of metal — not iron, but blood — fresh, close.
I moved before I thought. My body flowed into a run, faster than I'd ever moved. The trees rushed past in a blur of shadow and silver light. I followed the blood-scent, every part of me fixed on finding it.
It wasn't an animal I found.
It was a man.
He lay slumped against a tree, his shirt torn and soaked dark. His head lolled, breath shallow. His heartbeat was a drum I could hear in my teeth. My stomach twisted in hunger and guilt, but the hunger was winning.
I stepped closer, muscles tensing for the strike—
A shadow slammed into me from the side.
I hit the ground hard, teeth snapping. A weight pinned me, strong and unyielding. Hot breath was in my ear, and a growl rolled through the night.
"Not him," a voice snarled.
I twisted, claws flashing, and found myself staring into eyes I knew. Yellow, burning, and human enough to be worse.
The man from my apartment — the one who had bitten me.
Rhett.
I didn't know how I knew his name, but it fit, settling in my mind like it had been there all along.
"You'll regret your first kill if it's human," he said, voice low but edged with steel. His grip on my wrists — no, not wrists, forelegs — was iron. "You don't come back from that."
I snarled at him, the sound alien in my own ears. I didn't care about regret. I cared about the taste of blood so close I could almost feel it on my tongue.
Rhett's gaze flicked to the wounded man, then back to me. His voice softened, just barely. "You're stronger than the hunger. Prove it."
Something in me hesitated. The pounding in my head dulled, the blood-scent fading to the background under his stare. My muscles trembled, but I stopped fighting.
That was when I smelled him.
Cold, sharp, and metallic, like snow over steel.
Lucien stepped from between the trees, pale face ghostlit by the moon. He looked from me to Rhett, an amused curve touching his mouth.
"How touching," he drawled. "The dog teaching the pup restraint."
Rhett's growl deepened. "Not your business, vampire."
"Everything about her is my business now," Lucien said smoothly, his gaze shifting to me. "Isn't it, little wolf?"
My heart lurched. I didn't trust him — I knew better — but something about the way he said it made my skin prickle.
Lucien stepped closer, ignoring Rhett's snarl. "You're lucky I came when I did. Your little run tonight was heard in more places than you'd like. Witches, for one. They love a new turn — raw power, no control. Easy to… bend."
I didn't move, but every muscle was coiled.
"You should go," Rhett told him.
Lucien smiled faintly. "And leave her to you? Not a chance." He looked back at me. "We'll talk soon, Ellis. When you're not… like this."
He melted into the trees, gone as quickly as he'd come, leaving the night colder.
Rhett stood, releasing me slowly. His eyes searched mine, like he was looking for the human part of me under all the fur and teeth. "You need to learn control," he said. "Or next time, no one's going to stop you."
The moonlight caught on his jaw, on the faint scar at his temple, and for a moment I saw something in his expression I couldn't name — not quite anger, not quite pity.
Then he stepped back. "Come on. Before something else finds you."
I followed, not because I trusted him, but because some part of me knew I wouldn't survive the night alone.
Behind us, the forest swallowed the scene — the wounded man, the blood scent, the place where Lucien had stood. But I could still feel their presence, both of them, like twin shadows pressed against my skin.
And I knew, with a certainty that made my stomach twist, that I was already caught between them.