Chapter Six: The Beast Within
The first thing I felt was heat.
Not just heat, but a stinging, pulsing heat that seeped into my bones and made me want to stretch like a cat. The second thing I felt was texture—softer, thicker fur against my face. A pelt.
I opened my eyes slowly. The room was dim, filled with the faint smell of woodsmoke and something unmistakably male—raw, earthy, and electric. Shadows flickered on stone walls. A fire crackled somewhere behind me.
I was in a bed. Not mine. His.
Lucien’s.
I sat up too quickly and winced. My muscles ached like I’d been dragged through a thunderstorm.
Which… wasn’t far from the truth.
"You passed out," a drawling voice from the doorway. "That's it."
Lucien rested against the doorway, arms folded, staring at me as if he was trying to decide whether to feed me or fuck me. His gaze drifted along the curve of my bare shoulders—I was still wearing the ceremonial black gown, the fabric slightly rumpled from sleep.
"You carried me here?" I asked, voice rough.
"I wasn't going to let you fall in the dirt. You're not that wild yet."
"I didn't say I needed your help."
His lips twitched. "You don't ever have to say it."
I pushed the blankets aside, standing up in spite of a tiny shiver in my legs. "If you're thinking this means anything—"
"I don't think. I know."
He was in front of me before I had time to blink.
The heat in the room spiked as he reached up—slowly, deliberately—and brushed a lock of hair from my face. His fingers lingered along my jawline.
“There’s something inside you,” he murmured, “and it’s waking up. No one survives a Moonfire surge like that without a price.”
I met his gaze. “And what’s the price?”
His eyes flicked to my lips. “We’ll find out.”
The air between us condensed. Heavy. Charged. Sexual, I couldn't say. My body vibrated—not from the collapse—but from him.
Before either of us could cross that invisible line, the door creaked open and Rhea entered, a tray balanced in her hands.
Lucien stepped back immediately, jaw clenched. I felt the chill of the distance return like a slap.
"You must eat," Rhea said gently, putting the tray beside me on the bed. "And you should know… you're not human."
My stomach twisted violently. "What does that even mean?"
She looked at Lucien, but he was already walking away.
"Ask her about her markings," he muttered. "When she's ready."
He left the room, and with him, the heat disappeared.
That night, I dreamt.
But it wasn't like any dream I'd ever had.
I was running. Running as fast as I could. On four legs.
The woods were blurring past me, odors exploding in my face—moss, water, blood, him. My senses were cranked up, color more vibrant. I could hear the thrum of a rabbit heart from yards away.
Then another presence joined mine.
A huge, black wolf—Lucien.
He didn't chase me. He ran beside me, hard and silent, like he belonged to the forest and I to him.
When we accidentally looked into each other's eyes halfway through the run, something snapped into place between us. Something ancient.
I woke up gasping, the sheets tangled around my body like vines.
My skin was on fire. My thighs were moist. The heat between my legs was unbearable.
And I hated that even in dreams, he was haunting me.
Lucien wasn't speaking much the next day.
He took me far into the forest—no guards, no pack, just us. He explained that he wanted to see if I could use my instincts. Test what I'd learned.
He didn’t say he needed to be close. Or that the mating pull between us had grown since the ritual.
But I knew it.
Every step beside him was charged. Every touch of our arms, every inhale of his smell made my nerves sing.
You have to master control,' he said, leading me down a narrow path. 'Because whatever is in you, it's leaking.'
“I did not ask for this,' I snapped. 'I did not ask for any of it.”
“No. But fate never doesn’t give a damn about what we think we ask for.”
He stopped suddenly. I barely had a moment to get out of the way before he shoved me sideways—hard.
"What the—"
Growling ripped through the trees.
A rogue.
It lunged at me from the shadows, fur matted, eyes wild. I hit the ground hard, rolling just in time to dodge its teeth. Pain lanced through my shoulder as claws grazed my skin.
I screamed. Instinct surged.
And then—I shifted.
Not fully. Not to a wolf.
But to something else.
My body glowed with a soft light. My nails became claws. My eyes glowed like hot metal. I didn't think—I moved.
I grabbed the rogue mid-lunge and slammed him into a tree. The sound of cracking bone echoed like thunder.
It staggered up, stunned. And I pounced.
My hands wrapped around its throat, pinning it to the forest floor. My jaws were open, a growl tearing out of my own chest.
Then—just as I was about to deliver the final blow—it vanished into the trees, yelping.
I collapsed to my knees.
Blood trickled from my arm. My shoulder hurt.
"Elara!"
Lucien stepped out of the trees seconds too late.
His eyes scanned my body—gashes, blood, ruined dress. His pupils dilated.
He fell beside me, fingers on my cheek. "You shifted," he breathed. "Or—something like that."
"I didn't do it on purpose," I whispered.
"You fought off a rogue. Alone." His voice trembled with something—anger, awe, lust—I couldn't quite put my finger on. "You might have gotten yourself killed."
"But I didn't."
Our eyes locked.
Something broke.
He leaned forward—and licked the blood from my shoulder.
I didn't budge. A gasp escaped my lips.
His tongue was hot, slow, deliberate. The caress set my veins aflame. When he pulled back, his lips hovered over mine.
"No one touches what's mine," he growled.
It wasn't a threat. It wasn't a question.
It was a vow.
I shuddered as his breath caressed my throat.
“You’re mine,” he said again, quieter this time. “And it’s killing me not to take you.”
I grasped him without thought. My fingers curled around his wrist, pulling him closer.
He kissed me.
Not gentle.
Hard. Possessive. Desperate.
We crashed like a dam breaking. Slapping wet flesh. His hand in my hair, head tilting as he intensified the kiss. I moaned into him, nails raking against his back.
His lips moved down my neck, teeth scraping against flesh.
I needed more.
I needed—
One of the branches snapped.
We tore apart.
Rhea emerged into the clearing, with an expressionless face.
"The council is waiting."
Lucien growled low, feral.
Rhea's gaze flickered from my torn gown back to him. "And next time, maybe try not to claim her in the dirt."
Lucien didn't apologize.
Neither did I.
Because part of me wanted to be claimed.
Some part of me already was.