All of my life, I had thought myself surrounded by beasts, hulking monsters birthed from contempt and my own fears and inadequacies. I thought the towering sizes and rippling muscles of my pack members (along with their snapping jaws and narrowed, hate-filled eyes) qualified them as true beasts.
I was wrong.
The male before me is the monster in other monster's nightmares. He is the king of all that is hellish and chaotic embodied in fur as black as an endless void and a wall of vicious muscle straining with exertion. Too big to be a female, he stands almost eight feet tall on all fours, mighty limbs bulging with savage strength that can only have been earned through carnage and bloodshed. I do not recognize him as one of my pack members- someone so large, so savage and crazed, would have been known to everyone on our lands the first time he Shifted. He is even bigger than Alpha Soren. Another Alpha from another pack, perhaps?
The monster's gaze finds me on the ground, curled into the dead grass and dirt, tears streaking my cheeks. I must look like a child to him, a lost pup crying out for its mother. He watches the way I tremble, holding my elbows, refusing to meet his eyes.
Beneath the gaze of those two onyx eyes ( hostile, unhinged eyes) peering around a snarling muzzle of fangs, I am all but helpless. What little bravery I had is long gone, none existent.
Death has come for me at last.
For a long few moments we sit there, the silence broken apart only by the distant howls and screams in the trees and my own heavy panting. Around me, I feel the cool night air slip against my skin. I can smell the scent of pine and rain. My heart is pounding so hard I can not breathe around it, my lungs desperate for air they will never have their fill of. The tears leaking from my eyes feel like acid.
Die with honor. Die with your head raised, A quiet voice in my mind whispers.
I think of Mama singing to me when I was sick as a pup. I think of Papa, whose hugs are always so sturdy and safe. I think of Ethan's face radiating with pride when I praised him for his combat skills. I think of Lena laughing at a joke I told her, smile so wide and amused. The few precious people I have held close and will devastate with my murder.
It is then that I realize I am still breathing. This beast hasn't ripped my throat out yet. Why?
It does not matter. He will.
Be brave. Steeling myself, I look up into the furred face of my killer. My merciful angel, perhaps. The eyes are the most disturbing: no black pupil, no white surrounding the iris. Only pure black, the eyes of a possessed creature not belonging to this world. I hold that gaze as I speak. I know he can hear me as I whisper my final words.
"Make it quick."
I don't say please. I will not beg him. My pride has that much left.
The following silence is deafening but I make no moves to escape. Instead, I hold myself perfectly still and look into the face of this beast, trying to ignore the saliva dripping from his fangs. His breath smells putrid.
We sit like this for what feels like eternity. Those endless dark pools do not move from my face for an instant. Then, without any warning, the male turns on his heels and trots away.
I stare after him. What just happened? "W-Wait!" I call out without thinking.
I curse myself silently. Run, you fool!
The wolf pays no mind, disappearing into a thick clump of bushes. I rise to the balls of my feet, still crouching, unsure. My instinct to live screeches in my head, telling me to run, to escape.
Instead I only stare after him. For reasons I don't understand, I can not move. I can not leave him.
The bushes rustle loudly, then they part and shift to reveal not a wolf but a man.
I feel all the breath slip out of me.
He is so beautiful it only further terrifies my stress-addled mind. Towering at nearly seven feet tall and built with wide, broad shoulders, he is a fallen angel come to life, a holy warrior brought forth to raze the land to the ground. A halo of thick hair dark as spilled ink crowns his head, falling to brush his sharp square jaw and full pink lips pulled into a scowl. From his head runs a thick neck tapering into a rock hard chest and slim torso wrapped in bands of chiseled muscle. His arms, lined with thin blue veins pulsing with blood beneath pale skin, bulge with muscle as hard as steel and are covered with faint silver scars as fine as hairs. A dark band of fabric covers his intimate region, though the deep dip of his hips, his muscular thighs, and calves are on full display, his feet left bare and covered with dirt. Strength and an almost savage power radiate in waves off of him which are only intensified by his looming dominant stance.
And Goddess, Oh Goddess- his EYES. Not black but crystalline orbs practically glowing sapphire in the night, framed by black lashes long enough to brush his high cheekbones. They are the most unique shade of blue I have ever seen, something caught between fascinating and alien, something both beautiful and not quite of this world. They pierce through skin and bone until they strike at my heart, filling me with an instinctual fear and unnameable desire so deep it practically vibrates through my physical and emotional being.
Never have I seen such a beautiful, foreboding male. It's as if he has been kissed by moonlight and the dark night sky. I imagine what it might feel like to run my fingers through his wild onyx hair. In my head, it feels as soft as silk, winding around my fingers.
When our eyes lock, it feels as if he can hear the song my soul is singing. Burning metal plunged into thick oil to temper and forge a connection I can not name. I am whole. I am complete.
And he is going to kill me.
I scramble away as the male begins walking forward, my hands and knees scraping against the dirt as I try to crawl away from him. In the back of my mind I have questions: why is he human? Why not kill me while Shifted? Is this male truly so bloodthirsty he wishes to have the pleasure of killing me with his own hands?
I have scooted another two feet away before a pale hand shoots out and grabs me by the chin, forcing me still. I gasp at the electric current that suddenly rushes beneath my skin, blood boiling with an unnameable feeling of something like longing, lust, and terror rolled into one.
I wait for the pain. I wait for the blows to strike. None come.
Looming above me, the male holding me by the chin lets out a quiet breath that sounds like a growl. I can feel the power radiating from him in waves, making me dizzy. "Mate" He murmurs. A fact. A promise.
I inhale sharply. His voice is deep and rumbling like a rushing river, a soothing balm on all of my fears and pain and anger. With one word I am healed. I am found. It takes another moment before my brain catches up with me.
Mate. I have a MATE. An impossibility. A tremendous gift.
Tears fill my eyes at the sudden realization but before I can truly process all that is happening, warm fingertips move across my face, releasing my chin. The male's touch is shockingly gentle as he wipes beneath my eyes, brushing the dirt from my cheeks and nose. Once satisfied, he takes me by the shoulders and turns me around. His movements are gentle but firm.
"H-Hey!" My protests immediately cease as his long pale fingers move into my hair. It is a wild mass of curls interwoven with leaves and twigs but the male pays no mind, picking them out and moving the strands aside.
I let out a quiet sigh despite myself. I have never felt pleasure like this. It tingles at the base of my scalp and warmth pools there, spreading down throughout my endocrine system. Even when Mama styled and played with my hair, it never felt as good as this. I nearly melt into his hands.
Behind me, I feel the male become unnaturally still for a moment, his rock-hard abdomen pressed against my shoulders. In what little space that exists between us lies something like tension but tamer, more hungry. I am aware of every inch of him, from his heavy breathing to the quiet growl that slips from his teeth. It is nothing like the thunderous boom that shook the trees only moments ago.
Before I can think to turn or run, his long fingers begin weaving through my locks again, twisting and pulling. It takes me a moment to understanding what he is doing and when he is done, finally allowing me to turn around, I touch the braid, speechless.
Even amongst the most devout males in my pack, I have never seen them braid or style their female's hair. Mothers and older sisters do it for pups, of course, but never fathers or brothers. Where had he learned this? More importantly, why is he doing it for me?
Before I can react, he swings me up into his strong arms and for a moment I'm distracted by the bands of muscle there, wrapping all the way down his hard chest and sculpted torso. His touch is still careful yet possessive as he holds me in his grasp, making it clear he will not allow me to get away.
I don't want to. It is as if this male is a spider who has spun the most beautiful web, ensnaring anyone who dares come close. I stare up at him, mesmerized. I can not look away from those startling eyes of his, pools of endless blue surrounded by an iris of brilliant gold. A touch of color against his pale coloring. I feel my soul sing once more.
I should try to run. I should fight. I should start screaming.
I can't.
"Who are you?" I breathe.
The male looks down at me and doesn't hesitate. "I am yours. And you are mine."