Chapter 2

Patrick was a serpent clan beastman.

And serpents were born with lust in their blood.

He had no interest in hunting—all he cared about was what happened in bed.

Once or twice a day was fun. But once or twice every three days? That was pure torture for the mate.

And Patrick was especially violent in bed—no tenderness, no gentleness, just brute force.

He was lazy and useless too. In my past life, I was the one supporting him—hunting, gathering, putting food on the table.

But when I came back after a long day out, he'd spread rumors that I'd been out fooling around with other beastmen.

Just thinking about it made my skin crawl, my whole body ache with old pain.

Debra thought she'd landed herself a prize. She had no idea Patrick was rotten all the way through.

"Julie, you've been kicked out of the pack. What do you have to be so smug about?" Debra's face went cold at my words. "I'll make sure you watch me become the pack's divine maiden with your own eyes."

With that, she couldn't wait to head back with Patrick.

Their lewd laughter drifted back to me, making my skin prickle with disgust.

The moment I stepped out of the pack, I ran into a leopard.

The moment he saw I was human, he lunged.

His eyes burned with hunger and killing intent.

I knew what lone beasts like him did to humans—especially women. Play with them. Break them. Then eat what was left.

Survival instinct kicked in. I ran.

I ran until I spotted a cave up ahead.

I had nowhere else to go, so I darted inside.

Strangely, the moment I entered, the leopard stopped dead in his tracks.

He paced back and forth at the entrance a few times. When I didn't come out, he growled a few curses and took off.

I soon found out why.

A few steps deeper into the cave, a deafening roar shook me to the core.

I looked up—and there he was.

A magnificent white lion, gorgeous and proud, his massive jaws wide open.

He could swallow my head in one bite.

I turned and ran again.

But after a few steps, I realized something odd.

The lion had only roared. He hadn't even tried to get up.

Like he was just trying to scare me off.

Then I caught the smell—rotten flesh—and saw the wound on his hind leg, festering and raw.

He was injured.

I steadied myself and spoke. "Hey. You're hurt, aren't you? I can heal you. Can I stay?"

The white lion seemed to understand me. He gave me a long look, then actually stretched out both hind legs toward me.

His wound was severe. I pulled out the medicine powder from my pack.

I used to be a healer. I'd treated plenty of beastmen before. But when the accusation came, not a single one of them had spoken up for me.

That memory chilled me to the bone.

I finished treating the white lion's wound. The killing intent in his eyes vanished instantly.

He leaned in and rubbed his head against my clothes—his way of saying thank you.

That was when I heard his stomach growl.

He must've been too injured to hunt. He hadn't eaten in days.

"I'll go find some food. Wait for me."

I started to leave.

He hooked me back with his claw.

Then his massive tongue swept over me—licking me all over.

I knew what that meant. He was marking me with his scent. With his smell on me, most predators would think twice before attacking.

No wonder the leopard had backed off. This white lion was clearly no pushover.

I didn't dare wander far. I gathered some wild fruit nearby and headed back.

By the time I returned, it was already dark. I pulled out my flint, struck a spark, and started a fire.

The white lion's eyes lit up. He shuffled closer to the warmth.

And so I settled into the cave.

By day, I changed his bandages and searched for water and food.

By night, he served as my blanket and mattress—we slept curled up together.

Half a month passed like this.

One day, I came back after foraging—and froze at the sight before me.