Chapter four

POV: Kehan

 

The couch creaked beneath me again. Softer than stone, softer than anything I’d ever known, actually, but it didn’t feel like safety. Not necessarily. Just unfamiliar.

 

I curled into myself, arms crossed over my chest, trying to conserve warmth. It was gone. The fur. The coat that had once protected me like armor. Now there was only this skin - thin, naked, fragile. Cold.

 

My back ached from the shift, bones still settling, nerves too raw. I wanted to sleep. Not because I was tired but because waking was harder. Every second awake brought more awareness, and awareness meant remembering.

 

Or trying to.

 

But my memories came in flickers, like distant stars through the fog.

 

A gate.

Fire.

Screaming.

Running -

No, falling.

 

I tensed at the sound of footsteps. Not heavy. Hesitant. Paused near the doorway.

 

Him.

 

I could feel and smell him before I heard the breath catch in his throat. That human.

 

Adams.

 

He stood there, staring. I kept still, evened my breath. Let my body lie for me. Maybe if I remained still enough, he’d go. Or maybe he’d panic. Humans usually did.

 

Instead, I heard him whisper, “What the hell…”

 

The sound of him moving closer made the hairs on the back of my neck rise - except I had none. Just skin. Soft. Vulnerable.

 

“Alex?” His voice was low, testing the name he’d been told to expect.

 

Alex.

 

Was that me now?

Of course, it was me but that name didn’t belong, and couldn’t remember what did belong. Not anymore.

 

His fingers hovered near my shoulder, uncertain, then brushed lightly against it.

 

The contact sent a jolt through me. Not painful. But… anchoring.

 

I opened my eyes slowly. Met his gaze.

 

He stumbled back a step. “You’re awake.”

 

I sat up slowly, limbs stiff, face blank. Stay neutral. Stay quiet.

 

“What the hell happened to the dog?” he muttered. “There was a dog. I signed papers for a dog.”

 

I said nothing.

 

“You don’t look okay,” he said, softer this time.

 

I tilted my head.

 

His brow furrowed. “Can you speak?”

 

I shook my head.

 

“Are you hurt?”

 

Pause. Then a small shake again.

 

He sat, cautiously, on the armrest across from me. Watching. Processing. “You’re not from here, are you?”

 

I blinked.

 

Then nodded.

 

“At least you understand what I’m saying”, he sighed. “Did someone do this to you?”

 

That took longer. I let my eyes drop, chest tightening.

 

He exhaled. “Okay. I don’t know what this is. I don’t even know what you are. But you showed up where a dog should’ve been, and I guess I can’t send you back to the shelter…” He trailed off.

 

A long silence followed.

 

Then, he reached over slowly, unsure, and held out a bottle of water.

 

I stared at it. The bottle itself confused me. The twist cap is even more so.

 

He noticed. “Right. Okay. Hang on.” He opened it and handed it over. I took it with both hands. My fingers trembled.

 

When I drank, it was slow and cautious. The cold hit my throat, and I flinched. Even that was new.

 

Adams sat in silence, elbows on his knees, eyes watching every movement. “This is insane,” he muttered to himself. “Why do I feel like you’re not dangerous? That should be the opposite of how I feel right now.”

 

I couldn’t tell him why. I barely got a little myself.

 

But in the way he looked at me - curious, not afraid – I felt something shift.

 

Something warm.

 

A flicker of connection.

 

And then -

 

A memory flared.

 

Bright silver light. A glowing bond. My hand reaching out - no, his hand -

 

Touch.

 

Binding.

 

The look in his eyes - confused, but open. The way my heart beat faster at the sight of him, though I’d only just met him in this form.

 

I inhaled sharply. My gaze snapped to his.

 

His lips parted as he felt it too.

 

The bond.

 

Still faint, but pulling at the edges of us, like an invisible thread was slowly weaving between our hearts.

 

“Who are you really?” he whispered.

 

I couldn’t say.

 

But I looked at him, long enough, deep enough and I let my eyes say everything else.

 

His breath caught. And he nodded like he understood, even if only a little.

 

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he said finally. “But… I guess you’re not going anywhere tonight.”

 

I nodded once, slowly. Grateful.

 

The silence hung heavy between us as Adams’ gaze flicked to my exposed chest, then awkwardly down to his lower body, where his arousal was unmistakable. I could smell it - the familiar scent of desire, though not as heavy as the other night - and it made his chest tighten. His body reacted on instinct, a part of him growling low in his throat, but he quickly swallowed it, uncertain of how to handle the feelings rising inside him.

 

Adams’ gaze darted away quickly, but not before his expression flickered, an almost embarrassed blush spreading across his face. The tension was thick, and for a moment, neither of us moved.

 

Then Adams stood, rubbing the back of his neck, and sighed. “Guess I better find you some clothes.”

 

As he turned to leave the room, I looked down at my own body again - strange and bare and also pulsing.

 

I wasn’t whole. Not yet.

But I wasn’t alone anymore.

 

I was aware of the pull between us, the awkwardness that both of them to too unsure to speak of, not that I actually could though. But the animal in me stirred, more than willing to fill that silence. My instincts, the primal part of me still holding onto the dog I used to be, felt it - the attraction, the proximity - and it made my heart race, my

 senses more acute than they had been in days.

 

I didn’t know how to speak though the words were there, but they didn’t feel like mine either. My lips felt stiff, my mouth unfamiliar. My unfamiliar body was still trying to understand the way human sounds worked.

 

Adams stepped closer with clothes he thought would fit and stepped back. Way back, almost cautiously, like he wasn’t sure of anything. I don’t blame him, I went from Alex the dog to a full-grown man and I’m not sure of anything either. A flicker of warmth spread in my chest. There was something kind in Adams’ gaze.

 

“I don’t know what happened to you, but you need to trust me,” Adams said, his voice low and steady. The sincerity in his words made my chest tighten further, but I couldn’t respond still.

 

Adams paused, his eyes flickering between confusion and something else—something almost... It went away before I could place it. “I can’t help you if you don’t trust me. So listen to me carefully. You can’t ever step out like this, people ask questions and we don’t the wrong people asking questions or you’d turn to experimental meat. Clear? “

 

The words felt too big, too full of meaning. I stared at Adams, unable to find the right response. But deep down, a part of me wanted to. Wanted to trust him. I wasn’t sure why. I didn’t understand it, but the desire to feel something other than confusion was overwhelming. So I nodded again, once.

 

“We’ll figure this out,” he murmured, his voice warm, though it held a trace of uncertainty. “Noticed you’re broader, but those should fit some.”

 

I felt a small flicker of something - a hint of memory.

 

My name.

 

Ke...

 

But it slipped away.

 

Adams hesitated, then softly cleared his throat, his voice steady yet unsure. “Are you... hungry?”

 

The question, simple as it was, seemed to weigh it. My stomach growled in response before I even had the chance to think about it. I blinked at Adams, trying to form a response, but my mouth still felt like a foreign instrument. So, instead, I nodded slightly, my eyes not leaving Adams’.

 

Adams nodded back as if he had understood the unspoken answer. “Alright. Let’s get you something to eat. Dress up.”