The drums throbbed like a living thing, a relentless pulse that seeped into the earth and climbed straight up through my soles, vibrating in my chest until it felt like my own heart was syncing to their savage rhythm.
Lira and I had just crossed the thornwire fence that ringed Shadowfang Village, a crude barrier of twisted vines and sharpened stakes that whispered warnings to anything foolish enough to brush too close.
The night air hung heavy under the bloated moon, thick with the scent of smoldering wood and something earthier, more primal—a musk that clung to your skin like an invitation you weren't sure you wanted to accept.
Shadow fang sprawled out not as a tidy village but as a chaotic sprawl of jagged stone huts clustered around a yawning fire pit at its center.
The kind of place that looked like it had clawed its way up from the jungle floor rather than being built by careful hands.
Smoke drifted lazily from half a dozen forges, their glow painting the shadows in flickering oranges and reds, turning the whole scene into a feverish hallucination before I'd even inhaled the herbs that promised to peel back the layers of my mind.
Eyes caught the firelight from every dark corner—dozens of them, sharp and unblinking, belonging to the pack's she-wolves who were all female beast kin with fur-trimmed ears twitching at the slightest shift in the air and tails flicking with lazy precision like they were already calculating the odds of me being worth the chase or the kill.
They lounged against hut walls or crouched on low perches of woven bone, bodies poured into ragged hides that did little to hide the lethal curves beneath: full breasts straining against leather ties, hips wide and powerful from years of stalking prey through the underbrush, thighs thick enough to crush a man's resolve before he even hit the ground.
Some laughed low with throaty sounds that rumbled like distant thunder and others just watched with nostrils flaring as if they could already taste the salt of my sweat on the wind.
It was the kind of scrutiny that made your balls draw up tight, a mix of threat and temptation that had me fighting the urge to square my shoulders or bolt for the treeline.
Lira's hand grazed my arm while we pushed deeper into the glow, her claws just barely pricking the skin—not enough to draw blood but enough to send an electric shiver racing down my spine and pooling low in my gut.
"Keep your head high, Saul," she murmured, her voice that familiar husky rumble, low and gravel-edged, the kind that wrapped around your thoughts and tugged them toward darker places.
There was a protectiveness in her tone laced with something hotter, like she was already staking a claim amid the pack's hungry eyes as her tail brushed my calf in a fleeting touch that felt deliberate, stoking the fire she'd lit back in the clearing with that boar carcass still fresh in my mind.
She led me right into the heart of it, the firelight washing over us like a baptism in sin where the pack had gathered in a loose circle around the pit, their silhouettes etched sharp against the flames—curvy forms draped in bone jewelry that clinked softly with every sway, breasts rising and falling with breaths that seemed to sync to the drums, hips rolling in subtle instinctive rhythms that screamed ownership of the night.
The air was alive with their energy, a tangible hum that pressed against my skin and made the hairs on my arms stand on end.
Laughter barked out here and there, raw and unfiltered, mingling with the occasional snarl or throaty purr that sent unwelcome heat surging through me.
These weren't the polished executives I'd bent over desks back in my old life; these were predators, every inch of them built for the hunt, for the rut, for claiming what they wanted without apology.
An older wolfkin broke from the pack then, striding forward with the kind of authority that parted the crowd like a blade through silk.
Silver streaks threaded her midnight fur, framing a face sharp as a dagger's edge, her amber eyes locking onto me with the unyielding grip of a vice.
She was taller than Lira, broader in the shoulders, her hides clinging to a body that spoke of battles won and lovers broken—full heavy breasts barely contained by crisscrossed straps.
a waist that tapered to hips flared wide for gripping, thighs like coiled springs under skin marked with faint scars that told stories I didn't want to hear just yet.
"Lira's stray?" she rumbled, her voice a deep growl that vibrated through the ground, circling me slow like a shark scenting chum.
"He don't look like much—scrawny as a half-starved pup, no tail to speak of, and that scent... salt and storms, like he washed up from the deep sea—what makes you think this one's worth dragging home, girl?"
Murmurs rippled out from the pack like waves on a disturbed pond, tails swishing in agitation, a chorus of low growls rising that had my pulse hammering despite the cool night air.
I could feel their gazes crawling over me, dissecting every inch—the too-pale skin unmarked by claws or fangs, the wiry frame that screamed outsider, the subtle bulge under my loincloth that betrayed how their raw energy was already working its way under my defenses.
Lira stiffened beside me, her claws flexing.
But before she could bare teeth in my defense, the drums swelled again, drowning the whispers in a thunderous chant.
Deep throaty voices wove through the beats, words I couldn't parse but felt in my bones—ancient, urgent, pulling at something primal I'd buried deep after too many boardroom battles.
Lira had whispered about this on the trek in, her breath hot against my ear as we navigated the ridge:
the Rutting Moon Festival, a night where the pack shed civility like old fur and embraced the wild heart of the beast.
Part ritual hunt to honor the moon's pull, part unbridled celebration of the rut—a frenzy of bodies and blood and release that blurred the line between survival and surrender.
The kind of event that would make even the most jaded Vegas showgirl blush and look away, a raw unleashing where alliances were forged in sweat and seed, and outsiders were either claimed or culled.
Torches flared higher around the pit, their flames leaping like eager lovers, casting shadows that writhed over bare skin and taut leather, turning every curve into a silhouette of temptation.
Bodies drew closer in the heat, hands slipping bold under hides to trace thighs or cup breasts, soft moans threading through the chants like smoke.
The air grew thicker by the second with that electric hum of flesh on the verge of collision.
The silver-fur alpha—Sable, Lira had called her with a mix of respect and wariness—stopped her circle inches from me, close enough that I could feel the heat rolling off her body, smell the wild spice of her fur mingling with the forge smoke.
Her tail lashed once, deliberate, the tip brushing my thigh in a graze that lingered just a beat too long, sending a jolt straight to my core.
Her full tits nearly spilled from the low ties of her top as she leaned in, eyes narrowing to slits of molten gold.
"You wanna stay, tailless? Earn your place in the circle—the Mark of Flames calls your name tonight; survive it without breaking, and maybe—just maybe—we'll let you rut with the pack, spill your seed where it might take root."
"But fail, though... well, the fire don't forgive—it takes what it wants, leaves the bones for the crows."
My mouth went desert-dry, the weight of her words settling heavy in my chest, but I forced that old CEO grin to my lips—the one that had sealed deals over champagne and closed doors, the one that said I wasn't backing down from a boardroom or a bonfire.
"Flames, huh? Sounds like the kind of heat I can handle—lead the way, Alpha; let's see if your fire's as fierce as your stare."
A ripple of surprised laughs broke from the pack, quickly stifled, and Sable's lips curled in a smirk that was all fangs and promise.
She jerked her head toward the pit's edge, and rough hands—clawed and callused—grabbed my arms, hauling me forward through the press of bodies.
Whispers followed like shadows:
"Bold pup," "He'll scream pretty," "Wonder if he'll last longer than the last stray."
The pit yawned before us, a bed of glowing coals that pulsed with inner fire, ringed by bundles of herbs tied with sinew, their leaves already curling in the heat and releasing tendrils of smoke that carried a sweet cloying haze.
Hallucinogenic, Lira had warned, meant to strip away illusions, force you to face the beast within.
Sable stepped up, dipping her fingers into a clay bowl of ash, the fine powder clinging to her skin like war paint.
She smeared it across my bare chest in slow deliberate strokes, her touch lingering far longer than necessary, tracing lazy circles over my nipples until they tightened into hard peaks under the rough pad of her thumb.
The contact was electric, a spark that jumped from her skin to mine, making my breath hitch and my cock twitch traitorously beneath the loincloth.
"Breathe deep, pup," she murmured, her voice dropping to an intimate growl that only I could hear, her breath fanning hot across my collarbone.
"The visions come quick—let 'em in; they'll show you what you're really made of... or break you trying."
The pack's chant swelled to a roar, bodies swaying in hypnotic unison around the pit, and I caught fractured glimpses through the haze: a lynx kin scout with spotted fur arching back as her lover's hand delved between her thighs, fingers plunging deep to elicit a yowl of pleasure.
Two wolf-sisters grinding hip to hip, breasts pressing flush as tongues tangled in a messy desperate kiss; hands everywhere, bold and unashamed, the moans rising like incense to feed the flames.
I knelt at the pit's lip, the radiant heat licking up my bare skin like a thousand teasing tongues, toasting the fine hairs on my arms and legs until they curled and crisped.
The herbs' smoke curled into my lungs on the first deep breath—sweet as honeyed wine at first, then bitter as regret, the world tilting on its axis as colors bled and sharpened.
Flashes came unbidden, ripping through the fog like lightning cracks: Juvia's emerald dress pooling at her feet in the jet's dim cabin, her curves glowing like forbidden fruit as she dropped to her knees, eyes blazing with that mix of desperation and deceit.
Her lips parted around me, hot and velvet, swallowing deep with a hunger that had me gripping the armrests till my knuckles whitened.
"It's you I want, Saul," she'd gasped between strokes, tongue swirling wicked around the head, but the memory twisted now, her confession curdling into lies—her hand slipping the sabotage into the pre-flight, the aphrodisiac burning sweeter than truth in my veins.
"You loved me enough to kill me?"
The words tore from my throat in a raw echo, and there she was, ghostly overlay on the coals, her body arching against mine even as the ocean's roar swallowed us, cold water flooding in to choke the heat of our joining.
God, the ache was a knife in my gut, twisting low and filthy, my cock surging hard against the rough weave of the loincloth, pre leaking hot as the betrayal echoed in my blood.
[SYSTEM ALERT: Hallucinogenic Haze Detected.
Memory Fragment Unlocked - Betrayal Echo. +10 LP. Total: 66/100.
Warning: Emotional Surge May Trigger Lust Overload. Proceed with Caution—Unresolved Desires Amplify Risk of System Feedback Loop.]
The system's chime yanked me back like a lifeline, blue text flickering ghostlike in my vision.
But a sharp hiss cut through next, Sable's bone needle, heated to cherry-red in the coals, pressing firm into the meat of my pectoral.
Pain exploded, white-hot and merciless, blooming outward in waves that made my vision tunnel and my teeth grind.
Laced through the agony was the drugged haze, twisting it into something darker, more intoxicating: a filthy electric current that raced from the burn down my spine, coiling tight in my groin until every nerve sang with it.
I bit down on a groan, the sound escaping guttural and broken as she carved the pup's mark—a swirling fang etched deep into my flesh, the lines searing like her golden stare, branding me as theirs.
Sweat beaded and trickled, stinging the raw edges, but beneath it all thrummed that perverse pleasure, the pain feeding the heat until I was half-mad with it, hips shifting involuntary against the dirt.
The pack watched rapt, their hunger a palpable weight—eyes dark with lust and curiosity, breaths coming quicker as the scent of my blood mingled with the smoke.
Vexa, the foxkin scout I'd glimpsed earlier, leaned in closest, her sly curves draped in russet hides that hugged her like a second skin, red-tipped ears perked forward as she licked her lips slow, fangs glinting.
She was all lithe temptation, smaller than Lira but no less dangerous, with a tail that swished hypnotic and breasts pert enough to make a man's mouth water.
Her gaze dipped to the tent in my loincloth, lingering appreciative, like she was already plotting how she'd coax it free later.
Lira was there the moment Sable pulled back, kneeling swift at my side, her breath a hot pant against the fresh scar as she flicked her tongue out to lap at the edges, soothing the sting with gentle insistent strokes.
The wet heat of her mouth was mercy and torment, sending fresh sparks skittering across my nerves, her flavor salt and wild herbs were flooding my senses.
"You took it good, storm-boy," she whispered, voice rough with pride and something fiercer, her hand sliding bold down my abdomen to palm me through the cloth, fingers curling slow and teasing around the rigid length.
"Held still like a true hunter, makes a girl wonder what else you can handle... how you'd feel buried deep, marking me back."
Her squeeze was just shy of painful, thumb circling the tip where dampness seeped through, drawing a ragged hiss from my throat as the drums pounded on, bodies grinding ever closer in the periphery.
I swear I felt other eyes on us then, watching from the shadows, waiting with predatory patience.
Something bigger stirred out there, a subtle scrape of silver claws on stone that pricked the back of my neck, gone before I could turn.
Foreshadow, maybe, of the howls that would come later, or the god's distant gaze weighing my every gasp.
But the heat drowned it all out, the festival's frenzy pulling us under like a tide.
By dawn's gray creep, the mark throbbed under the thick salve Lira smeared across it, her fingers dipping dangerously low, brushing the base of my cock in passes that promised more once the pack slept.
"Rest now," she murmured, lips brushing my ear, but her eyes burned with unspoken hunger, pupils blown wide.
The coals had dimmed to embers, the chants faded to snores and soft sighs from entwined bodies scattered around the pit.
Vexa slunk by as Lira stepped away to fetch water, her tail a silken brush against my thigh, voice dropping to a conspiratorial purr.
"Heard whispers of a cave, tailless deep in the eastern veins, crystals that pulse like a rut in full swing make a man grow in ways that'd have the pack begging." But the guardians... they bite hard, leave marks that don't fade.
Her grin flashed all teeth, sly and sharp, vanishing into the mist before Lira could spot her.
Trouble, coiled tight and waiting to strike, the kind that smelled of silver fur and rival howls.
I scanned the coals' edge absently, eyes catching on a cluster of fire-kissed herbs wilting in the ash, unremarkable at first glance, but the system hummed alive.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION:
F-GRADE HERB CLUSTER
Identified - Emberleaf (Stamina Salve Base).
Vision Scan Complete: +20 LP. Total: 86/100.
Inventory Tab Expanded: Minor Potion Craft Unlocked at Threshold.
Warning: Low LP Reserves—Prioritize Exploration for Sect Foundation.]
Close, so damn close to cracking open whatever this system dangled next, that tantalizing edge of power humming just out of reach. But as the sun clawed its way over the ridge, painting the huts in bloody light, a distant howl split the morning, too sharp, too close for comfort.
Silver claw scouts, probing the borders, or something worse slinking from the god's shadowed perch, the scroll's prophecy tightening like a noose. The pack stirred uneasily, ears pricking, and Lira's hand found mine, claws pricking warning.
The flames had marked me, but the real fire was just igniting.