IGNORE THE WAY MY MOUTH WAS WATERING AND MY HANDS WERE TREMBLING

Chapter 4

Alexander's POV

The woods were alive in a way I had never noticed before.

I'd hunted these trees since I was old enough to hold a bow. I knew every trail, every clearing, every fallen log that made a good seat when you needed to rest. I knew the crunch of fallen branches underfoot, the way the pines swayed with the wind, the calls of night owls perched high above.

But that night, stepping into the darkness with nothing but a backpack and a heart full of fear, everything was different. Every sound was sharper, clearer, as though someone had turned up the volume on the entire forest.

The chirp of crickets wasn't background noise anymore, it was deafening, layered in rhythms and frequencies I'd never heard before. The wind wasn't just moving the trees, it was carrying stories, scents and warnings that made my skin crawl.

I could smell things that shouldn't be possible to smell. The damp soil beneath layers of dead leaves, as if it had been stirred right beneath my nose.

The musk of a deer that had passed through hours ago. Something sharper, more metallic that made my mouth water in a way that terrified me.

My legs shook as I walked deeper into the forest, putting distance between myself and home. Between myself and the people I loved. The people I might hurt.

I pulled my jacket tighter around me, though the October night wasn't particularly cold. My skin burned with a restless heat, a fever that wouldn't break no matter how much I sweated. It felt like something was moving beneath my flesh, something trying to claw its way out.

Every few steps, I'd catch myself replaying that moment at the dinner table. The sound Ryan made when he hit the floor, the way his chair toppled over.

The shocked silence that followed, but worst of all was the look in their eyes. Mom's, Dad's, Liam's, Jayce's and Ryan's. It had Fear and terror.

They'd looked at me like I was something they didn't recognize. A stranger wearing their son's face. A beast sitting in my place at the dinner table.

And maybe they weren't wrong.

I stopped near a creek about two miles from home, my breath coming in short gasps. The moonlight spilled across the water, pale silver dancing over the dark surface.

I knelt at the bank and cupped my hands, bringing the icy water to my lips. It should have been refreshing, should have cooled the fire in my veins.

Instead, it stirred something violent in my gut. A hunger that clawed at my insides, demanding something I couldn't name. Not food, not the kind of food I'd known my whole life. This was different and wrong.

Completely wrong.

I splashed the water over my face, gasping at the cold shock. When I looked down at my reflection, I nearly fell backward.

For just a moment, maybe less than a heartbeat, my eyes weren't brown anymore. They were amber. Golden. They glowed like embers in the dark water.

"No," I whispered, stumbling back from the creek. "No, no, no..."

My voice sounded strange, rougher than it should have been. I pressed my palms against my eyes until I saw stars, trying to convince myself I'd imagined it. But deep down, I knew I hadn't.

Something was happening to me. Something that started with that bite, that man who'd turned from wolf to human in my arms.

Protect her, yourself and protect everyone around you.

His words echoed in my skull as I found a relatively dry spot beneath a massive oak tree. I spread my jacket on the ground and tried to settle in for the night, but sleep felt impossible.

My muscles twitched and jumped. My heart hammered against my ribs. Every bone in my body ached as though they were grinding against each other.

I thought I was dying.

But as the hours crawled by, as I lay there shivering and sweating and fighting waves of nausea, I realized this wasn't death. This was something else entirely. Something worse.

Like something was waking up inside me. Something that had been sleeping my entire life, waiting for the right moment to tear its way to the surface.

By morning, I felt like I'd been hit by a truck. My clothes were soaked with sweat, my hair plastered to my forehead. But the fever had broken, leaving behind a strange, electric energy that made it impossible to sit still.

I forced myself to eat some of the jerky I'd packed, though my stomach churned at the taste. Everything felt wrong—the texture, the flavor, even the act of chewing. My body wanted something else, craved something I didn't dare think about.

The second day was worse.

I moved through the forest like a wild animal, restless and reckless. I couldn't walk in a straight line for more than a few minutes before the urge to run or to sprint, became overwhelming.

The world was too loud, too vivid, too intense. Colors seemed brighter, sounds carried further than they should have. I could see details in the shadows that human eyes weren't meant to pick up—the glint of a spider's web fifty yards away, the subtle movement of a mouse beneath a pile of leaves.

And the smells. God, the smells were the worst part. Every scent hit me so hard. I could track a rabbit's path from three hours ago just by following the invisible trail it had left behind. I knew where foxes had marked their territory, where a bear had rubbed against a tree days before.

It was intoxicating and terrifying at the same time.

I tried to convince myself it wasn't happening, that stress and exhaustion were playing tricks on my mind. But denial has its limits, and I was rapidly approaching mine.

By the third night, hunger had become a living thing inside me. The bread and jerky I'd packed were almost gone, and they did nothing to satisfy whatever was gnawing at my insides. My hands shook as I tried to make a small fire, and twice I had to stop because the scent of my own blood from a small cut made my mouth water.

That's when I smelled it.

Blood. Fresh blood. Sharp and absolutely undeniable.

My head snapped toward the scent before I could stop myself. My body moved without permission, legs carrying me through the undergrowth faster than I'd ever moved in my life. Branches whipped at my face, thorns caught at my clothes, but I barely felt them. I was focused on one thing and one thing only.

The hunt.

No. That wasn't right. I wasn't hunting anything. I was following my nose like some kind of animal, and that thought should have stopped me cold. Should have sent me running in the opposite direction.

Instead, it only made me move faster.

I burst into a small clearing and froze. A rabbit lay in the center, its neck twisted at an unnatural angle, dark blood pooling beneath its small body. A hawk must have dropped it, or maybe a fox had been interrupted during its own hunt.

I stared at the dead animal, my chest heaving, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. The rational part of my mind, the part that was still human, was screaming at me to turn around. To walk away. To ignore the way my mouth was watering and my hands were trembling.

But the other part, the part that was growing stronger every hour, was already moving.

I dropped to my knees beside the rabbit, my vision tunneling until all I could see was the dark pool spreading beneath its fur.

The smell was intoxicating, overwhelming every other sense. My hands reached out, fingers trembling with need...