The Beast in my Veins

Isadora:

The blood tastes like fire.

It shouldn’t. I’ve bitten my own lip enough times to know blood is salt and copper, nothing more. But Rhett’s—Rhett’s burns. It sears down my throat, heat wrapping around my ribs until I feel hollowed out, branded from the inside.

And then I feel him.

Not Rhett the man, not Rhett the wolf—both. His beast slams into me, furious and alive, and for a moment I swear I hear its snarl behind my teeth.

My hands shake. I clutch the window ledge because the room tilts sideways, the floor trembling like it too feels his hunger. My breath rips out ragged, and my pulse—gods, my pulse isn’t mine anymore. It beats in time with his.

“Easy,” Rhett murmurs, voice raw. His palm is still against mine, blood sticky between us, sealing the vow. His eyes glow faintly, amber fire shot through with hunger. “Breathe, Isadora. Let it in.”

I do. I can’t not.

The beast presses against my skin like a storm, pacing the cage of my skull. It snarls at my hesitation, claws at the hollow places I’ve always carried. But beneath its savagery there’s something else—something warm. Protective. Fierce.

It wants to shield me. Guard me. Tear down anything that would dare to touch me.

And it’s mine now.

I close my eyes and let it echo through me. The world sharpens, edges too bright, sounds too sharp—the tick of the clock, the soft rasp of Lucian’s breathing behind us, the thud of Rhett’s heart syncing to mine. My hunger rises, fierce and new, not for food or air but for power.

“Rhett—” My voice cracks on his name.

“I’m here,” he answers instantly, like a vow. He kneels lower, forehead nearly touching my knee, as though to bow to me and bind me all at once.

The beast inside me surges at that, triumphant. My throat aches with a sound I don’t let out—a growl that isn’t mine but wants to be.

“I feel you,” I whisper.

His eyes flash brighter, pupils wide. His jaw clenches like he’s fighting himself. “You’re not supposed to—”

“But I do.” The words spill out, breathless, unstoppable. “Your hunger. Your rage. All of it. It’s in me now.”

Lucian shifts in the corner. His voice is cold, too sharp. “I warned you, Rhett. She isn’t just carrying your strength. She’s carrying your need.”

I open my eyes. Lucian’s crimson gaze cuts through the dim light, but for once, I’m not afraid of it. Not when the wolf inside me bares its teeth at him, daring him to step closer.

My lips curl before I can stop them. A smile, feral and wrong. Mine, the beast whispers. Not of Lucian. Of Rhett.

The thought makes me dizzy.

Rhett’s hand tightens around mine. His claws barely scrape my skin, but the sting pulls me back from the edge. He looks stricken—equal parts devotion and torment.

“I never wanted you to feel this,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “I just wanted to keep you safe.”

Safe.

The word feels strange on my tongue. Safe has never meant what it should. Safe is a locked door. Safe is silence. Safe is pretending I’m fine when the abyss howls my name.

But this—this isn’t safe. This is fire and hunger and teeth.

And it feels alive.

I press my free hand to my chest, where the bond burns under my ribs. The beast shifts inside me, restless, prowling, but when I touch the mark over my heart, it settles. As if it knows. As if it recognizes me.

“I can control it,” I say, though I’m not sure if I mean the beast—or myself.

Lucian laughs under his breath, sharp and humorless. “Control is an illusion. It will take what it wants.”

Rhett snarls at him, wolf too close to the surface. “Don’t.”

But Lucian only tilts his head, eyes flicking to me. “You’ll see. When the hunger claws deep enough, you’ll understand what he’s given you. And then you’ll wonder if you really was ready.”

My stomach knots. Because part of me wonders already.

The beast stirs at Lucian’s tone, furious, ready to strike. My nails dig into the windowsill, and for a breathless moment I feel the urge to lunge at him. To sink my teeth into his throat until he bleeds.

The thought horrifies me. And yet—it thrills me too.

“Stop.” I whisper it, to myself more than them. “Just—stop.”

The room stills. Even the beast pauses, crouched low inside me.

Rhett moves then, so gently I could cry. He touches my cheek with fingers that tremble, not from fear but restraint. “I’ll help you. Every step. You’re not alone in this.”

Not alone.

The words sink deep. I want to believe them. I want to drown in them. But when I close my eyes, all I see is shadow and blood, all I feel is the gnawing ache inside my veins, hungry, restless, waiting for me to slip.

I swallow hard, open my eyes. Rhett’s gaze is steady, even through the storm raging in him.

And gods help me—I want him.

The beast inside me wants him too.

I don’t know which of us leans closer. Maybe both. Maybe neither. But for a heartbeat, the space between us hums with promise, sharp as a blade. His breath ghosts across my lips, hot and unsteady, and my heart slams against the bond.

Then Lucian clears his throat.

The spell breaks. Rhett jerks back like he’s been burned, teeth clenched so hard I hear the crack of it. My pulse thrums wild, the beast snarling at the interruption, but I force it down.

Not now. Not yet.

I curl back into the window seat, drawing my knees to my chest again, though my veins still tremble with Rhett’s fire.

“I can feel everything,” I whisper, more to myself than them. “And I don’t know if I want it gone.”

Neither of them answers.

The silence stretches long, heavy. I stare out at the abyss beyond the glass, but now—now I don’t feel quite so small staring into it. The abyss stares back, hungry, waiting.

And for the first time, I think I might be hungry too.