Lysander’s POV

I had seen the monster in my dreams before. I had felt its breath on my skin, heard its growl echo through the corners of my sleeping mind, but none of that prepared me for the sight of him now.

The glowing eye that hovered in the darkness slowly came into focus. The other followed. Twin golden flames. Wild. Unblinking. Predatory.

He stepped forward, and the shadows peeled away from his form. Massive. Towering. Not a wolf. Not a man. Something in between, something carved from nightmares and stitched with the bones of gods.

His shoulders were broad, fur-covered muscles shifting with every move. Long, sharp claws curled from fingers that could shatter stone. His jaw, half human, half beast, glistened with fangs far too long, far too real.

And his chest... his chest rose and fell with steady, deliberate breaths, each one sounding like thunder rolling in a cavern. My mouth dried. I couldn't move.

I knew I had made a terrible mistake. The worst mistake of my life. Offering myself to this creature, this ancient thing that was meant to be chained, not fed.

But I couldn’t let my mother die.

I had sworn I’d protect her. Even if it meant giving myself to the beast who ruled this hell. I didn’t regret it. I just didn’t think it would feel like this. The iron air in the dungeon grew thick as he approached.

Every step he took echoed, slow and heavy, like the beat of a war drum. My hair had come loose, slipping down over my bare skin like a silk curtain. I kept my eyes low. I couldn’t look at him.

My hands were shaking, but I forced them to stay on my thighs. My knees pressed hard against the stone floor. I was already trembling, trying to hold myself together, but everything in me was unraveling.

He stopped just in front of me.

So close, I could feel the heat radiating off his body. He looked down at me like I was something new, something not meant to be here. His gaze wasn’t hungry in the way men sometimes stared.

It was deeper. Like he was studying me, memorizing me. His glowing eyes scanned every inch of my bare skin. Slowly. Painfully slow. Like he had all the time in the world.

And then he groaned. Low. Guttural.

I flinched.

Another groan followed, louder, drawn from the depths of his chest. It rumbled through the air like thunder, wrapping around me, crawling down my spine.

Before I could blink, his clawed hand lashed out and grabbed my arm. The pain was sharp as his claws sank into my flesh, but I didn’t cry out. I gasped, breath shattering in my throat as he pulled me up in one swift movement.

My feet scrambled to find balance as I stood before him, unsteady, bare, exposed. His other hand moved to the back of my head. I gasped again as he yanked it back, tilting my neck.

My pulse beat wildly under my skin, and I knew he could hear it. Knew he could smell it. He leaned in, his snout brushing against my skin, and he sniffed, slow and deep, like he was savoring something forbidden.

His breath was hot. It scalded my throat. Then he pulled back, and our eyes met.

Those golden eyes.

And then I caught a scent. Sweet and strange. Like honey melting into warm cinnamon. Like crushed berries over firewood. I knew that scent. It only meant one thing, that this beast in front of me was my mate.

It filled my nose, thick and sweet, and I could barely think. How? Why?

And then everything inside me changed.

Heat spread through me, starting low in my belly and rising fast. My legs felt weak. My nipples tightened, swollen and hard. My thighs pressed together on their own as I felt a throbbing between my legs, deep, wet, pulsing in waves I didn’t understand.

I didn’t want this, but my body betrayed me. I hated the way I reacted to him, how my skin burned for his touch, how I craved him even though I knew he was the thing meant to destroy me.

And it made me so angry.

I wanted his hands on me. His mouth.

Anything.

Everything.

I craved something to fill the heat inside me. I didn't even care what it was. My skin broke into goosebumps even though the dungeon was warm now. Too warm.

I tried to fight it. I clenched my fists. Bit down on my lip. Told myself to stop.

But it didn't help.

And worst of all, I knew it wasn’t over. He hadn’t even laid a hand on me properly. Yet I was already melting, already begging inside without saying a word.

But this wasn’t lust. Not from him. The way he stared at me, it wasn’t desire for my body. It was deeper. Darker.

He didn’t want sex.

He wanted my blood.

And yet... my body didn’t care.

My soul was screaming. My pride was cursing me. His hand moved slowly across my skin, starting from the side of my neck.

I could feel the heat of his touch even though his claws were sharp. They dragged lightly across my collarbone, down over the soft curve of my chest, and lower still, until his fingers rested just above my waist.

My breath hitched. My body reacted before I could stop it. My skin tingled where he touched, my chest rising fast. That heat came back stronger, deeper, pulsing low and heavy like it had a heartbeat of its own.

It made me ache, made me crave something, anything, to quiet the storm building inside me. I hated how I wanted more. I hated how good it felt to be touched this beast.

Was it the mate bond?

But then, just when I thought he would do more, he pulled away. He let go of my arm with so much force that I staggered backward, almost falling. A guttural growl tore from his chest, so powerful it made my ears ring.

The walls trembled with it, dust spilling from the stone like the dungeon itself was afraid. He backed away, his head low like he was trying to fight something deep inside. His claws gripped the sides of his head.

He looked like he was in pain. Like something was tearing him apart.

Why didn’t he bite me?

Why didn’t he drain me?

I should have run, but I didn’t. Something held me there. I needed to know what stopped him.

Then I heard it.

A loud crack. Then another.

The sound of bones shifting. Twisting. Snapping.

I froze.

Something moved in the shadows.

And when I stepped closer, I saw him.

No fur. No claws. No fangs.

Just a man.

Tall, bare, and breathing hard.

His skin was flushed like he had just stepped out of fire, his chest rising fast. And his eyes were staring straight at me.

But there was something new in them now.

Anger... or pain. Maybe both.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just watched me, silent and still, like he didn’t know if he wanted to kiss me or kill me.

Somehow, that made him even more dangerous than the beast. And for the first time, I wasn’t sure which form frightened me more.