Chapter 4- Cassian Thorne Smells Blood

CASSIAN POV:

The forest is silent.

Not peaceful.

The kind of silence that means something is wrong.

I stalk through the trees, boots silent on damp earth. The rogue’s trail is fresh—muddy pawprints, tufts of fur, a scent that reeks of rot and desperation. Broken branches hang like bones; bark stripped where he’s marked his path. His fear lingers in the air like smoke.

He’s close. Or was.

But that’s not what makes me stop.

It’s something else.

A scent I’ve never smelled before.

Human.

But not just human.

Something underneath it—iron, heat, something ancient that makes my teeth ache and vision sharpen. My wolf rises instantly, restless and curious.

The scent hits again, stronger. Like smoke and sugar, wild honey over blood. It drifts through the trees, seeping into my lungs until I can taste it. Sweet, sharp, utterly foreign—and somehow familiar. Like a memory I’ve never had.

I suck in air through my teeth—a mistake.

Now it’s in me. Wrapped around every nerve. Pulling.

Colors sharpen. Shadows deepen. Every sound—the drip of water, rustle of leaves, crack of wood—comes into sharp, painful focus.

No. Not now.

I grit my jaw, try to move, but my legs feel heavy. My heartbeat pounds in my ears. The scent winds around me like chains, invisible and unbreakable.

The wolf presses harder under my skin, tail high, ears forward. Hunting. Needing.

“No,” I snarl.

But my fingers curl. Claws break through skin.

The change wants to start.

Bones ache, muscles twitch. The human shape feels wrong—too small, too confining. I need to run. Need to hunt. Need to find the source of that scent and claim it.

I drop to one knee, bracing against a tree. Bark cracks under my grip. My breath comes fast, ragged.

The scent lingers. Teases. Not prey. Not threat.

Something worse.

Something… claimed.

The word echoes in my head, from nowhere. But I know it’s true. Whoever she is, she’s already mine. Has been mine since her scent touched my lungs. The bond recognizes what my mind refuses to accept.

“She’s human,” I rasp. “It’s not possible.”

But the bond doesn’t care what’s possible.

The pull tightens around my ribs.

And deep inside, my wolf snarls—

Mine.

The word reverberates through bone, shaking me to my core.

I press my palms into the dirt, hoping it’ll anchor me. It doesn’t.

The scent seeps deeper, until it feels like she’s breathing beside me. I can almost see her: a shadow moving between the trunks, barefoot, wild.

She’s not here. I know she’s not.

And yet her scent binds me like a collar.

It tastes like honey cracked over flame. Sweet but sharp. Untamed. There’s fire in her blood, and it calls to the fire in mine.

And it’s wrong.

Not because it isn’t real—because it is.

The pull tightens again. My vision sharpens until I hear every heartbeat in the undergrowth, every insect wing, every shifting branch.

And underneath it all, her.

Even absent, her presence weighs on my chest. Her scent has marked me, changed something deep in my chemistry. The wolf knows what it means, even if I refuse to.

I shove to my feet, stumbling.

No.

The wolf is clawing behind my ribs. Not angry—hungry. For her skin, her voice, her warmth.

I grind my teeth until my jaw clicks.

I’ve kept it chained for years. Swore never again. Never let anyone close.

But this is older than me. Older than control.

The mate bond.

I slam a fist into the nearest tree. Bark explodes. My claws slice through skin, blood running warm and sticky. The pain barely registers.

The copper scent mixes with hers, and for a moment, I almost pretend they belong together.

I take two steps toward her scent—then stop.

If I go, I won’t stop. I know what happens if I stop fighting.

My chest heaves, sweat sliding down my spine. The forest holds its breath, waiting.

I refuse to think of her. The first mate. The one I failed.

This girl’s scent isn’t the same. Less moonlight, more wildfire.

Worse.

Because the wolf wants her anyway. Wants her blood, her voice, her bones, her name—

The rogue is forgotten. He’s not the threat.

She is.

Or maybe I am.

I run. Not toward her. Away.

Fast. Hard. Branches whip my arms, tearing skin. The ground blurs. Trees smear past. My lungs burn, but I don’t stop.

If I don’t get distance, I’ll shift. And if I shift—there’ll be no holding back.

I don’t know how far I run.

Just keep running. Let the pain keep me human.

Pain is focus. Pain is mine.

My skin burns from resisting the change.

The wolf snarls in my head, showing me images—cornering her, claiming her, marking her so no one doubts who she belongs to.

I punch the ground. Once. Twice. Earth gives too easily.

A crow screeches nearby, startled.

Too loud. Too close.

I lunge without thinking.

My hand closes around it mid-flight. Bones snap. Blood warms my palm.

But the violence doesn’t help.

It only makes the beast hungrier.

The crow’s death means nothing. It’s not what I want.

I drop the limp body, chest heaving. Blood steams in cold air. Smells wrong—not hers.

I slam my shoulder into a tree. Bark splits, wood groans. Again. And again.

Still, her scent coils inside me, unburned.

It’s part of me now. Woven into every breath.

By the time I reach the edge of my territory, the sun bleeds behind treetops, turning fog to gold and red. The forest behind me is wrecked. Birds gone. Deer gone. The scent of violence lingers.

My shirt hangs in tatters. Blood darkens one sleeve. My claws haven’t retracted.

I don’t bother trying.

The pack house comes into view—stone, wood, and bone-built; old as memory.

Elias waits on the porch. Arms crossed, jaw tight. He felt the disturbance in the bond.

He steps down, slow and careful, reading me.

“What happened?”

I say nothing. Words would be a growl.

“Rogue?”

Still nothing.

He steps closer. Inhales once. His expression changes.

Understanding.

“You scented her.”

Silence.

“She’s close, isn’t she? Near town?”

“Stop.”

“She’s your mate.”

A low growl vibrates my chest. The boards creak underfoot.

“I said stop.”

He doesn’t. “She’s human, isn’t she.”

My silence answers.

“Shit,” he mutters.

“It’s a mistake,” I rasp. “A trick. The bond’s wrong.”

“You don’t believe that.”

“I have to.”

“Cass…”

I shove past him, heading inside.

“I buried one already,” I snarl. “I won’t bury another.”

The words taste like ash.

He doesn’t follow. Smart.

I’m a breath away from losing control.

The door slams behind me. The den is dark. I don’t turn on lights. My eyes see fine in the dark.

My shirt falls to the floor, blood and sweat clinging to torn fabric.

My chest rises, breath shallow.

I look down.

The mark.

Low on my ribs—a crescent moon ringed with thorns. Usually faint. Barely there.

Now, it glows.

Soft gold light pulses under my skin. Calling something.

I clench my fists.

The rage rises—not hot, but cold. Sharp.

“Not again,” I whisper, voice rough.

I press my forehead to the cold stone wall. The cool doesn’t help.

She’s real.

The bond is real.

Everything I buried claws back to the surface. Every defense shatters under the weight of a single breath.

I don’t want this.

Not with a human.