The stairwell smells like blood.
Not human blood.
Not entirely wolf either.
Something wrong—thick, heavy, metallic, and tainted with the rot of corrupted magic.
The rogues' remains lie twisted across the steps, shadows clinging to their bodies like the fight isn't over yet.
And Lucian—
Lucian stands between them and me.
Half-shifted.
Half-wild.
And barely holding himself back from turning fully.
His chest heaves with each breath, every inhale sharp and ragged. Skin across his shoulders ripping, muscles shifting beneath as if something enormous is clawing in the surface.
And his eyes locked on me bright silver, glowing with an intensity and it stead the air from my lungs.
"Arielle," he growls, voice half-human, half-wolf, "stay where you are."
But my body ignores him.
I take a step forward.
His claws twitch.
"Arielle," he repeats, deeper now, more strained, more dangerous. "Don't."
But I can't.
Because something inside me—something I never asked for—is pulling me toward him. The mark under my skin pulses like a heartbeat, dragging me closer with every throb.
"You're hurt," I whisper.
His chest rumbles. "Not badly."
"You're shaking."
"That's not pain."
I swallow. "What is it then?"
He lifts his head, baring just a hint of sharp, inhuman teeth.
"Hunger."
My breath hitches.
He doesn't mean hunger for food.
Or blood.
Or death.
He means me.
His wolf wants me.
The realization washes over me like heat and ice at the same time.
"Lucian," I whisper, stepping another inch closer.
"Stop." His voice cracks—just slightly. "Please, Arielle… stop."
The plea does something strange to my chest. Lucian Blackthorn doesn't beg. He commands. He threatens. He destroys.
But now…
"I'm losing control," he admits, voice raw. "I've never been this close to shifting in my human form."
I freeze.
Shifting in a confined space is dangerous.
Shifting without intention is deadly.
But shifting because of someone…
Because of a bond…
I whisper, "Is it the mark?"
His eyes flicker—pain, desire, desperation.
"Yes. And no," he snarls softly. "It's you."
My knees weaken.
The lights flicker overheard
The stairwell vibrates with the distant echoes of more howls—rogues searching above.
Right now those monsters feel a world away.
The real danger is standing three feet in front of me, battling between protecting me—
And claiming me.
Lucian braces a clawed hand against the wall, arm trembling as he forces air into his lungs.
"The scent of your fear," he rasps.
"The sound of your heartbeat."
"The heat of your skin."
His voice lowers into something primal.
"It's driving my wolf insane."
A shiver rolls down my spine—not fear.
Something deeper.
And even though every instinct should scream at me to step back, run, escape…
I move closer.
"Arielle," he warns again, harsher this time. "I'm not safe for you right now."
"You won't hurt me," I say softly.
His head snaps up, eyes burning.
"You don't know that."
"But I do."
He lets out a harsh, broken laugh. "You have no idea what I'm fighting."
"Then tell me."
He doesn't.
He can't.
I can see it—the truth sitting on his tongue like poison.
Instead, he says, "We need to get out before more rogues find us."
He pushes away from the wall, but his knees buckle slightly.
I gasp and reach instinctively for him.
Big mistake.
The moment my fingers graze his arm, he shudders violently—like a shockwave of energy tears through him.
His claws dig into the railing.
He bows his head, growl shaking through his entire body.
"Don't touch me," he snarls—not angry, but agonized. "It makes it worse."
My hand falls away.
He lifts his face, and it's terrifying how beautiful and monstrous he looks at the same time. The wolf in him is so close to the surface now that even the air around him feels alive, crackling with power.
"We can't stay here," I whisper. "Tell me where to go."
The lights flicker again.
Above us—heavy footsteps
Below us—a cold gust of wind through the bottom exit door.
He hears both.
"Down," he says immediately. "There's a safe corridor behind the parking garage. Reinforced. Shielded with runes. They won't be able to smell you."
I nod and start descending.
But Lucian grabs my wrist again.
My breath stops.
His grip isn't painful.
It's desperate.
"I said I can't touch you," he growls.
Then why
His voice softens—barely. "But I can't let you walk ahead of me either."
I blink. "Because…?"
"Because if anything jumps at you, I'll rip through walls to get to you."
He moves behind me.
His presence fills the stairwell like a storm cloud—dark, charged, suffocating with power. Every step he takes is a battle. I can hear it in the way his breath shudders, in the scrape of his claws against concrete.
"Lucian," I whisper after three flights, "you're not getting better."
"I told you," he says, voice rough. "Being near you feeds the wolf."
"Then why stay behind me?"
He hesitates.
A heartbeat.
Two.
Then—quietly, like it hurts to admit:
"Because I need to see you."
Something in my chest twists so hard I almost miss the next step.
The heat in his words isn't romantic.
It's instinctive.
Possessive.
Animal.
We reach the bottom landing, and I push the final metal door open.
Cold night air rushes in.
But before I can step through, Lucian's arm slams against the wall in front of me—blocking the exit, trapping me between his chest and the concrete.
My breath catches.
His scent surrounds me.
Heat rolls off him in waves.
His claws curl into the wall above my head.
He lowers his face toward my neck, inhaling deliberately.
Slow.
Dangerous.
"Arielle…" His voice is a quake. "You smell like the night I found you."
My pulse slams.
He presses his forehead to mine—just barely touching, but enough to send sparks rushing through my veins.
"I shouldn't be this close," he whispers, trembling. "But I can't step away."
"Lucian…"
He leans closer, lips brushing my cheek—not a kiss, not even pressure—but the ghost of one.
"I'm trying not to shift," he confesses. "But you—" He inhales sharply. "You make my wolf want things I shouldn't let him want."
My legs go weak.
The air thickens between us—charged, breathless, forbidden.
Then—
A roar from behind the door above.
Lucian's eyes snap open, glowing brighter.
"We have to move."
But when he steps back, his hand lingers near my waist—hovering, shaking—like pulling away is physically painful.
We slip outside.
The night is sharp and cold, stars hidden by clouds. The parking garage looms ahead, was so quiet but not safe.
Lucian keeps behind me, and his movements fluid but unsteady, every breath a shaky battle for control.
Halfway across the asphalt, something shifts in the darkness.
A shadow.
A rogue—crawling out from beneath a black SUV.
Before I can scream, Lucian's arms wrap around me and pull me to his chest. His growl erupts so violently that the ground vibrates.
The rogue freezes.
Lucian takes a step forward, shielding me completely.
"Back," he snarls, voice a hurricane of lethal fury. "She is mine."
The rogue whimpers.
Cowers.
Then flees into the shadows.
Lucian doesn't move.
He just stands there, chest heaving, arms still wrapped around me like letting go would kill him.
"Lucian…" I whisper, breath shaking.
He lowers his head beside my ear.
"I almost shifted for you," he murmurs, dark and broken. "If that rogue had touched you…" His voice trails off into a low growl. "I wouldn't have come back."
I swallow hard. "Back from what?"
He lifts his head.
His eyes glow brighter than moonlight.
"From the wolf."
He brushes a shaking finger against the air near my jaw—once again, not touching, but wanting to.
"Arielle…" His voice drops, deep and rough. "Whatever this bond is doing to us… it's only getting stronger."
My heart thunders.
The mark burns.
And Lucian's next words steal my breath:
"If I lose control again tonight…
I won't stop at protecting you."
He steps closer—so close our breaths mix.
"I'll start claiming you."