The full moon hangs in the sky like a giant cosmic fuck-you to my entire existence.
I know what’s coming. Have for hours. The itch under my skin that starts at sunset, bones aching like they’re gearing up for a demolition job, muscles twitching with anticipation of the horror show about to begin.
They’ve got their little steel cage ready, complete with fancy moon-binding sigils like that’ll actually contain whatever I turn into. Cute. Really fucking cute.
“This should hold him,” some court mage says, tracing symbols that probably cost more than most people’s houses.
I want to laugh. Want to tell them they’re decorating a prison with fairy tale bullshit. But talking requires energy I’ll need for not dying in the next few hours.
The change starts slow. Always does. Like my skeleton’s testing the waters before committing to full-scale mutiny.
“My lord,” a guard says, “perhaps we should—”
“Get out.” My voice sounds wrong already. Lower. Rougher. “All of you. Now.”
They scatter like scared rabbits. Smart move.
I make it maybe ten minutes alone before the real fun starts.
Pain hits like lightning made of molten glass. Every bone in my body decides it wants to be somewhere else, preferably in a different shape entirely. My spine curves, snaps, reforms. Ribs crack and heal and crack again, trying to accommodate organs that are shifting into configurations that shouldn’t be possible.
The scream that comes out of me isn’t human. Can’t be. Humans don’t make sounds like that—pure agony wrapped in rage and desperation.
My shirt tears as my chest expands. Claws punch through fingertips like nature’s own switchblades. The rational part of my brain—what’s left of it—knows I’m leaving bloody gouges in the stone walls, but the wolf doesn’t give a shit about property damage.
Heat pours off me like I’m running a fever that could melt steel. Blood everywhere—mine, mostly, but the wolf doesn’t care about the distinction. Everything smells like copper and rage and something wild that shouldn’t exist in civilized spaces.
The human part of me is drowning. Going under in waves of instinct and fury that make thinking impossible. I’m losing myself piece by piece, memory by memory, until there’s nothing left but hunger and violence and the need to hunt something, anything, that moves.
That’s when she comes.
Through the haze of transformation, I smell her before I see her. Rose and steel and something that cuts through the animal madness like a blade.
Lucy.
The wolf spins toward the door, snarling, seeing prey where the human saw salvation. Every predatory instinct screams attack, tear, consume.
But she doesn’t run.
She walks toward me instead, bare feet on bloody stone, like approaching a rabid animal is just another Tuesday for her.
“Cassian,” she says, voice steady as bedrock. “I know you’re in there somewhere, you dramatic asshole.”
The wolf roars—sound that makes the walls shake, that should send her sprinting for her life.
She keeps walking.
“You promised,” she says, another step closer. “You said even if you turned into a monster—”
The wolf lunges.
And stops.
Like someone yanked a chain mid-attack. The bond, maybe. Or just the last thread of humanity clinging to consciousness by sheer fucking willpower.
She reaches up, presses her palm to my chest.
The moment her skin touches mine, everything goes quiet.
The rage flickers out like a blown candle. The wolf retreats, whimpering, leaving behind just a man who’s been torn apart and barely put back together. I drop to my knees so fast I probably crack something against the stone.
I bury my face against her stomach, claws retracting, breathing like I just ran a marathon through hell. Her scent fills my lungs—real, grounding, human in all the ways that matter.
“Don’t leave me,” I whisper, voice completely shredded. “Even if I turn into a monster.”
“You’re not a monster,” she says, fingers threading through my hair like I’m something worth touching instead of the thing that almost killed her sixty seconds ago. “You’re just having a really, really bad night.”
“I felt it slipping away. This time I almost didn’t come back.”
“But you did.”
“I smelled blood. Heard voices and couldn’t tell if they were real. I thought I was going to kill whatever came through that door.”
She tilts my face up, forcing me to look at her. “But you didn’t. You chose me over the monster.”
My eyes are wet, which is somehow worse than all the blood and supernatural horror. “You saved me.”
“Yeah, well.” She shrugs like she didn’t just walk into hell and drag me out by force of will alone. “Someone had to. You were being really loud.”
That’s when I remember we have an audience.
Guards frozen in the doorway, staring at their prince kneeling in his Omega’s arms like they just witnessed something that’ll rewrite their understanding of how the world works.
“Close the door,” I say without looking at them.
They do, but I can hear their brains exploding from here.
By morning, I know the rumors will be flying. Dark magic, bewitchment, unnatural bonds. The court loves its supernatural soap operas, and we just gave them a whole fucking season’s worth of material.
But right now, with her hands in my hair and her heartbeat steady against my cheek, I don’t give a shit what they think.
She walked into that chamber knowing I might kill her.
And she did it anyway.