Chapter 1: The Wounded Monster

If you take one more step toward me, I will rip your throat out with my teeth!

The voice did not sound human. It was a low, rough growl that shook the wet earth beneath her knees, carrying the strong smell of fresh blood and crushed pine needles.

She froze on the muddy bank. Her hand stayed inches above the dark dirt where a crimson pool was spreading into the fallen leaves. Her fingers shook around the bunch of crushed silver leaves she had gathered from the cold riverbank. The forest around them was dead silent, as if every bird, insect, and wild animal had fled from the dangerous man lying broken in the ditch.

He lay tucked inside the hollow of a massive fallen oak tree. His chest rose and fell in heavy, ragged gasps that rattled deep in his lungs. Dark, unnatural veins stood out against his pale, sweaty skin like black web work. His black hair was full of mud and dry pine needles, but the sheer size of his broad shoulders and thick arms showed he was lethal. He wore no shirt, only torn trousers that looked shredded by sharp iron claws.

She swallowed hard, her mouth completely dry. "You are bleeding to death," she whispered. Her soft voice barely cut through the cold wind rattling the bare branches above them. "The cut on your side is turning black. If I do not put these leaves on it, the rot will take your blood before nightfall."

The stranger snapped his head toward her with terrifying speed. His eyes were not normal. They burned with an unnatural gold light that flickered like a dying fire in a dark room. Sweat rolled down his sharp jaw and dropped onto his collarbone. When he breathed out, his lip pulled back to show sharp, lengthened teeth that glistened in the dim sunlight.

I do not care about the rot, he snarled. His fingers dug straight into the soft wood of the tree trunk beside him. Splinters flew into the air as his dark nails tore deep into the bark like iron hooks. I care about the fire in my chest. Get away from me, human girl. My mind is not my own.

She knew she should have run. Every instinct in her body screamed at her to drop her basket and sprint back to the safety of her village before it was too late. But as she looked into his face, she saw pure agony twisting his hard features. It was not just the bleeding cut on his waist that made him suffer. A deep, heavy ache seemed to crush him from the inside out, making his whole frame shudder in violent waves.

He was in pain. A terrible pain no one should ever have to bear alone in the cold dirt.

I am not going to hurt you," she said softly, taking a slow step forward on her knees. The wet soil soaked straight through the fabric of her woolen dress, sending an icy chill up her legs. "Just let me put the crushed leaves over the tear. It will cool the burn.

You foolish, blind girl, he growled low in his chest.

He moved faster than her eyes could follow. One second he was slumped against the old tree roots; the next, all the air was knocked out of her lungs as a massive, burning weight slammed into her chest.

She hit the ground hard. The back of her head struck the wet moss with a dull thud, making stars dance in her eyes. The silver leaves flew from her hand, scattering across the dark soil like fallen snow. Before she could catch her breath or scream for help, he pinned her wrists above her head in a grip like iron bars. His heavy body pressed her flat into the earth, trapping her completely beneath him.

The heat coming off his skin was terrifying. It felt like lying right next to an open furnace. His chest pounded against hers, his heart racing like a wild drum inside a stone hall. The weight of his muscles made it impossible for her to move a single inch.

I warned you, he panted against her cheek, his breath hot against her skin. The terrifying gold light filled his eyes completely, swallowing his dark pupils until no white remained. "I told you to run, girl."

She stared up into his face, her heart hammering against her ribs as she felt his raw power straining against her frail body. She tried to yank her arms free, but his grip did not loosen even a fraction. His fingers wrapped around her wrists with enough force to bruise, locking her down into the cold mud.

He raised his free hand, his dark, sharp nails coming to rest lightly right over the beating vein in her neck.

She held her breath, unable to move as the cold edge of his claws pressed into her sensitive skin. He leaned down further, his heavy frame crushing her chest until every breath became a struggle. His nostrils flared as he breathed in her scent, a long, dangerous shudder running down his spine. The air between them grew thick with tension, so heavy she could feel her own pulse drumming wildly against his claw.

You smell of sweet water and soft earth, he rasped into her ear, his deep voice sending a sharp shiver straight down her spine. "You shouldn't have come near me.

Please," she choked out, her tears finally brimming over her lashes and running down into her hair. "Please let me go. I only wanted to help.

His golden eyes locked onto her face, dark and unreadable. He lowered his face until his lips were inches from her ear, his hot breath brushing over her skin.

It is too late for that, he whispered, his grip tightening until she whimpered. "The hunger in my blood has already found you.