#werewolf!cassian

I feel cold suddenly and my hands snake around me like I could protect myself from their cold stare. There is no one I know of that has the same fate as me, no one I could share my thoughts with. Loneliness rules my mind. For as long as I can think I’ve wished for a sibling. A sister that would take me in her arms and lend me her favorite dress for a special occasion. A brother that would sit by my side and play chess with me, or ruffle my head when he would pass by.

But that’s not how the covens work. Whenever a witch has more than one child, the magic splits evenly among the children. To maintain the most powerful coven, means to have the most powerful witches, that means that there can only be one who inherits the magical abilities. The stars were in a cruel position the night I was born and I was spared of that magic ability. I’m not sure I could ever forgive myself for being such a burden to my mother.

But there is still hope. Even if I have no direct line to the magic, my blood holds the potency to give my daughter the ancestral magic when I’ll be mated some day.

“What are you doing here?” The familiar voice screeches through the calm hall and echoes over the mounted flames on the walls, shrieking back like they’re fearing what's coming next. It’s the second time tonight that I've got that question.

My head shoots up to the top of the winding staircase where my mother grips the railing with her immaculately pointed nails. Her stare is filled with disbelief and superiority as she descends gracefully. I push off the door, smooth out my crinkled dress and tug a strand of hair behind my ear to look most presentable to her. “I-uh.” I stammer and my fingers slide over my lips like they could pull out a string of lies. My family always demanded honesty from me and they treated me well – I never had to lie one word, not even when I was a child.

“What ruffled your feathers?” She asks impatiently as she steps closer and studies me up and down. “Your dress!” her shocked voice is like a sting to my chest. I follow her line of sight to the torn linen. It's mocking me mutely. Mother leans in and her nostrils flare. “Why are you reeking like you had a roll with a wet dog?”

My palms get sweaty and my fingers drift over my lips.

Lie. Come up with something. Anything.

“Uhm, after the ritual I needed some air.” Good, now mix a small lie under the truth. “I went for a walk and petted the chimera puppies that live down the north river with the Blanchets,” Just one more. “Their little teeth must have gotten caught in my dress when we played.”

She rolls her eyes and waves her hand to me to follow her upstairs. Thank the Cauldron she swallowed it. “Hideous beasts. It always escaped my understanding why they breed them. But I must say I’m impressed by your community spirit. Upholding good relations with other covens is an important part of our society. Remember, one hand washes the other.” She holds up her manicured index as she lectures me.

We come to a halt in front of my rooms. “You will take one of our guards next time you go for a nightly walk. There are too many dangers out there.” I know she means well, I’m just a human and her only child. She would be devastated if something happened to me. 

She takes a step closer, seeing that the only thing holding me together is the tiredness. But there is something else in her eyes…frustration and disappointment. “The ritual will work eventually, child. Do not worry. We’ll try again next week. Do not lose hope.” I’ve heard that speech more times than I could count and right now I’m not sure if she says it to me or to soothe herself.

“Take a bath and wash off that disgusting smell.” Then she closes off the distance to place a protective hand on my belly and rubs it like she does it since I've been a child and puts a light kiss to the crown of my hair. “Sleep well, treasure.”

My heart blossoms every time she uses my nickname. It assures me that I mean the world to her, even if I’m not perfect.

“Good night mother.” I smile at her but she’s already turning around and vanishes. Only the lingering swirls of black glitter are left.

The door handle squeals as I enter my rooms and I let it fall into its lock behind me.

“Where have you been?” The unamused voice hisses and I find a set of emerald eyes on a black canvas of fur that stare at me angrily from the bed.

“Nowhere.” I say nonchalantly and find the matchbox to light the candles in the classic non-magical way. 

Feather light paws tap over the polished wooden floor as I turn around to get to the next sconce. I take another step. “Tell me!” his angry voice mewls at me just when my foot hooks into the feline. I stumble and almost trip over myself, kicking the inky furry accidentally into the air.

He hisses at me and jumps on the mantlepiece gracefully, just so he can look down on me with arrogance and feigned hurt. 

“Beelz, for the last time – stop spinning around my feet when you know exactly where I am walking!” 

I light the last candle right next to him and raise a brow at the beautiful black cat. His ears are flat against his small head as he licks between his toe beans, pretending I’m not there. “You still haven’t told me where you were.” He retorts indifferently. 

I raise my chin and pull on his tail playfully when I know I’m out of reach of his clawed paw. The scratches on my arm count that we’re even. I snicker as I walk past him but he scrunches up his little nose. “And why do you smell like dog?”

My mother and Beelz said that. Perhaps a stray marked the stone I sat on and I haven't noticed it. “That’s none of your business.” I counter as I peel out of my dress and leave it on the spotless floor as I make my way over to the bathroom. My heart beats fast again, the incident of tonight still lingering on my thoughts.

White marble greets me like an uninviting hall of an infirmary. It's cold against my feet just like the flawlessly polished walls. Dark velvety curtains are draped to perfection around the ceiling eating windows that allow a glance over the gardens and let the night inside. I light the candles as the hot steam from the filling tub curls around the flames. The last undergarments are gone and I dive into the relaxing bubbles. 

“Come on, YN. Tell me please! You’ve been to the forest again, haven't you?” Beelz begs and jumps on the corner of the tub where my foot rests. “I’ve been waiting for you the whole night. And you forgot to leave the door to the balcony open. I considered scratching the wallpaper and the bed frame as a reminder.” He says cockily and dips his head to lick some of the bubbles. 

I sigh and put a wet cloth on my forehead. “Yes, I was in the woods after the ritual.”

He stops licking for a second and mumbles around his snout. “Your mother will freak out if she ever finds out that you go there.”

“I know.”

“What else happened? Usually you’re just exhausted when you come back and crash at an instant.” He sits up straighter and pushes out his chest while tilting his head to the side. “Today, you’re different. Restless.”

My eyes fly around the chilly hall-like bathroom – add a floor length mirror and a ballet class of at least ten dancers could have their dress rehearsal here. I gaze out the foggy window, the blurred silhouette of the crescent moon looking back at me.

“I met someone.” I mumble and hide my lips beneath the surface.

Beelz is on all fours, his back arched, hackles raised. “You what?” he meows with popped eyes. 

“I was in the stone circle again and there was this man.” Flashes of Cassian pressing against me invade my mind. The hot water around me is nothing in contrast to his welcoming body heat. 

Bellz’s eyes grow wider, pressing me for more answers. “He’s a peaceguard.”

“You always had a thing for knights in shiny armour…” he trails off but his eyes go soft. “Was he pretty?” He’s always in for my secrets.

“Devestatingly…” his mesmerizing eyes look back at me in my mind and my pulse begins to race. “We talked and he was nice. Really nice and charming. He even wanted me to show him a card trick.” My words fade away and smile to myself at the memory. No need to tell him that I almost kissed a stranger. He’d yell at me for being too reckless anyways. But I do not regret it.

“Wow, that's a new one.” Beelz looks astonished. “When was the last time you could show one to Morgana?”

When I was eight. It was clear early on that I had no magic inside of me. To make up for that, I began to learn magic tricks and the ones with cards fascinated me most. I wanted to prove to my mother that I had at least some kind of magic. But she never was impressed by that. My parents called me out after the third week in a row when I constantly tried to show them new ones, telling me that I better focus on my studies instead of pointless children's games. I’ve never tried to show them after that. I have kept it to myself since then. 

And to Beelz of course.

He sighs, recognizing my sinking heart. He frowns while balancing on the slippery rim before he sits on the corner next to my head, purring. “Can you show me once more how you do that thing with the three cups and the marble? I’m sure I’ll see how you do it this time.”

He can be very sweet if he wants to. Especially if he’s trying to cheer me up. I smile at him and lean my head towards his, so he can scrunch his whiskers against my cheek. He’s my only friend. 

“I’ll show you tomorrow. But honestly by now you should know how I do it.” We chuckle and my thoughts drift again to the handsome peaceguard.

“What else did he do?” Beelz asks. “He must be special if you’re not able to wash that stupid smile from your face.” 

“I’m not smiling.” my cheeks rise and he gives me a shit eating grin. 

I stare holes into the air as I go on. “I don’t know, he was just…Good. The way he looked at me. No one has ever looked at me like that. Like he could see into my soul and see me.”

“Someone’s having a crush.” He says proudly and sits comfortably like he’s the king in person. Sometimes I think he was a royalty in a life before this one. 

“Am not!”

“Poor girl is in denial.”

“Okay. Maybe a little crush.” My smile widens and I hide my face behind my hands while I squeal. “But you can’t tell anyone!” I warn him, tapping his cute nose.

He sneezes from the drop of water I left there and I chuckle at the droplets he shoots at me.

“When are you meeting him again?”

“Next Sunday, after the ritual.”

I leaf through the book before me without even trying to actually read the words I’m supposed to study. I hate mathematics. All the formulas filled with a bunch of letters of the alphabet and complicated derivations. It bores me so much that I have to reward myself after reading three pages of the proof by sneaking into the kitchen to grab some sweets or even just a glass of water to escape those horrible pages. But not even my other subjects can conquer the thoughts that rule my mind. Its like I’m possessed by Cassian.

This week I have gone to the city a ridiculous number of times, just because I hoped to see him there. I also took longer walks than usual, anticipating to run into him accidentally. Waiting to meet him feels like torture but today is Sunday, and we’re meeting later in the woods. 

“I’m talking to you.” my mother scolds me and I jump in my chair at her voice.

“I’m sorry, I’m just tired today.” I say massaging my temples and bite my tongue at the dishonesty.

“You have been off this whole week.” she sneers under her breath. She’s right, I haven't been myself for the past few days. Since I met Cassian my mind follows the thread he holds in my head. His genuine smile and his raspy voice haunt me. I have a sizzling feeling in my gut permanently. My mother probably has a potion for that in her arsenal. Not that I would take it. I like how the butterflies roam inside of me at the thought of him. 

“Are you nervous because of your appointment with the Augur next week?” her voice slices my thoughts.

I almost forgot about that.

I’ll turn 22 next week. ‘Coming of age’ is what the elders around me like to call it. Everyone in our world has to see an Augur on that day. She’ll tell me what my life beholds, how my future will be. Not straight away…it’s more like a prophecy, a riddle that haunts you for your whole life and you try to meet it as best as you can. As far as I know, those are quite accurate.

But no matter what the Augur tells me, I’ll be happy to follow my duty and my future. That’s what my parents want from me.

“No, it’s not bothering me, mother.” I say truthfully.

“Maybe it’s your circle. You’re always jittery when it comes closer.”

“Yes, perhaps it’s that.” I sigh and look down to the pages again. The hazel eyes of a certain peaceguard flash across my mind and my cheeks turn pink. I hide one cheek with my palm as my index glides over the lines on the page – Swirls and letters of derivations that mean absolutely nothing to me evade my focus, but I try. “Please, could you explain this to me again.”

Cassian

“Anything new, lieutenant?” my captain asks with his head peeking from the ajar door. His tone is annoyingly nice.

“Nothing yet.” I throw the pencil across the scattered sheets on my work desk and lean back with a sigh, my hand drifting through my hair again.

He opens the door fully and leans against the threshold with crossed arms and a frown on his face. “Maybe start all over again. Take a look at the places where the victims vanished again. Perhaps you’ve brooded over those reports too often. One step back might bring you one step forward.” 

I’ve been working on that case for months. People, mostly wolves, have been disappearing in and around the woods for months. There are indications that it has been going on for years but I can't make sense out of it. In all those months there hasn't been one witness. Not one.

This is not surprising, because especially the woods are forbidden to most of the city dwellers. Too dangerous is the no-mans-land. We as peaceguards are protecting the law inside of the city, but the forest around is huge and thick. 

My mind drifts to the girl I met last week in the stone circle. A simple but shatteringly beautiful human girl all alone by herself in that dangerous forest. I would never forgive myself if something happened to her on that day.

Anger rises in my chest and my mind grows wild. Heat runs down my spine and my hackles rise. I shove the loose papers from my desk, some of them shredded by the claws that are growing on the ends of my fingers. 

“You’ve always been too hot headed.” captain says, taking in the chaos with cool indifference. 

I look around the chards of papers that cover the floor of my office and my hands drift over my face nervously in hope to calm me down again. “Fuck. I’m sorry.” I huff.

He pushes off the wood and grabs the brass knob of the door. “You better call it a day. Enough work for now. Head out, take a breather, stroll around for a bit and calm down.” he advises with a half-smile. “Take tonight off and start fresh tomorrow.” he pushes the door completely open and waves his hand for me to exit. 

The chair beneath me squeals as I get up and cross the distance to pass him. He pats my shoulder. “We don’t want to cause your rut from all the stress.” he chuckles and closes the door behind me. 

He’s a good captain, even if he’s only a beta. Even though he's beneath me in rank in the wolf world because he’s a human, he earned his status in the peaceguards. He got there, because he’s worked his ass off and without being a true werewolf. Usually the alphas fill those positions for obvious reasons… natural authority, high physicality, and leadership.

I was born an alpha. At first I was weak and thinner than the others, but I fought my way up to the top. And I intend to go even higher to change some things in the law of the wolf-world. I wasn't an easy child, so my mother enrolled me in one of the training camps when I was eight. Every wolf has to go there at some time, but I was there two years early. It’s cruel and unforgiving. It was like I was an orphan all of the sudden, but I stayed as strong as I could. There, I met Rhysand and Arzriel. They’re alphas too. We had our brawlings and more conflicts than I could count but somehow, we grew together as a pack. But we’re more than just the usual hierarchy…instead of one alpha per pack, we’re three and planning on staying together like that.

Rhysand has already found a mate. A lovely omega named Feyre. For years, Az had a thing for Mor but recently his focus shifted to someone else, but the fucker isnt telling us who the lucky female is. I had my fair share of women over the years, female wolves and other shifters but it was never enough to settle. The last relationship I had was with Nesta, Feyre’s older sister. Strong minded and with a shitload of trauma she had to overcome. Her friends helped but we grew apart. She’s an alpha and we banged our heads constantly. Our breakup was for the best. I never cared about what my partners were as long as it worked out.

But since last week my mind is insatiable thirsting after one special girl.

YN.

She’s occupying my mind like no other before. The way she laughed and held her cards in her soft and tiny hands is turning my world upside down. Her delicious smell hovering in my mind and I’m sure I smelled her sometimes when I was in the city. I looked around but never saw her, she had been there sometime ago. I know it. I could never forget that sweet fragrance. The faint smell of her lingered on my shoulder when she was pressed against me last sunday. It’s like having an angel on my right side. 

And I knew that I was a goner when she almost closed off the distance between us. I would have given anything to kiss her. I always had been a physical male but with her…it’s different. It's like she enthralled me with a spell and I don’t want it to stop. 

Still, I have no idea why exactly she had been in the woods that night. I followed her into the thicket but lost her trace at some point, like there was a barrier that veiled her from me. I hope she got home safe. I haven't properly slept since then, counting the hours until I’ll see her again. What will be in a couple of hours.  

I cross the moon gate that leads into the forest. The cold air is a nice contrast to my ridden nerves. For the past weeks I have been patrolling the forest at night to find out how those people vanish. But I push those thoughts to the side as I approach the stone circle. 

She’s already there. I stop in my tracks, rooted to the ground. Sitting on that rock like last time, humming a sweet tune like she has no worries at all. The breeze weaves her perfume towards me and I inhale her deeply. Something like peace settles inside of me and I can feel a tug in my heart.

“Hey sweetheart.” I call out to her and she spins around with the brightest smile. I cross the distance and I can hear her heartrate shoot up, just like mine. They pound in sync like a secret melody in the calm woods of tonight. 

“You came!” she smiles and stands, leaving her deck of cards on the mossy surface of the stone. Her eyes gaze up and down my body. I’ve changed my uniform for some casual trousers and a loose henley that gives her a good look at my chest. It's like she can't decide where to look but her gaze lingers on my lips for a second too long as if she thought about our almost-kiss just as much as I did. 

I smirk and take her small hands in mine, they’re cold at the tips like she has been waiting for me for too long already. “Course I did. I was worried you’d try to impress the trees with your card tricks instead. Couldn't let that happen.”

Her little laugh has my chest blossoming. “So, how was your week?”

Her smile falters and breaks altogether. Silver lines at the edges of her eyes. I frown and smell the stress that evades her body. My smirk disappears instantly as she sniffs. “Hey, hey…” I step into her and let my hands brush her upper arms in a soothing sweep. I search for her gaze, letting my voice drop into a warm soundless purr. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” she whispers, shaking her head but her voice betrays her. “It was just…rough.”

She said the same thing last week but she held herself together. The days since I last saw her must have been devastating to her and I fear that she might be more broken next week. How long has she been enduring this pain? What if she’s getting worse with every week?

I have to know, I stay close, solid as a wall, so she can cling to me like ivy in the cracks of an old structure. My thumbs draw gentle circles on her arms. “Rough how?”

Her throat works heavily. “My family has…expectations. Sometimes it feels like they’re trying to squeeze something out of me that isn't there.” She lets out a bitter, shaky laugh. “Like…torture, really.”

My jaw clenches at her words. What the hell are they doing to her? My gaze never leaves hers, there is no judgement but a good portion of pity that’s slowly mixing into anger towards her family. “Sounds like they’re the problem. Not you.”

My words hit her and her eyes light up like sunlight breaking through the clouds after a storm. As if no one ever said it that way before. “You don’t…see me as less?” she asks softly.

I suppress a frown and leave it at a gentle curve of lips. That’s ridiculous! “Less? Sweetheart, I’ve seen people with power crack under pressure like eggshells. I don’t know exactly what you’re going through, but I can tell that you’re very strong. You’re still standing. That's more strength than most have.”

My mission is complete as her cheeks flush and her smile is back on her pretty face. “You can’t just say things like that,” she whispers, tucking her chin down.

I cup her chin and lift it up, forcing her gently to look at me again. “Hey,” I grin, the cockiness is back. “At least that nearly earned me a kiss last time.”

Her eyes go wide and her cheeks heat up even more, it’s cute. “You– remember that?”

“Hard to forget when your breath was on my lips just before getting denied.” I lean just close enough to challenge her for a brush of our lips. “Though I’m starting to think you enjoy teasing me.”

A smile blesses her lips as she shoves my chest lightly. “Maybe I do.”

She collects her precious cards and we sit on the stone again, one arm around her middle. Her body is shivering a bit and I regret leaving my cloak back at the station. I pull her in closer, my body heat has to warm her. My eyes run over her arms, where her dress exposes her skin. It looks like she has been rolling in paint and failed to wash it away. Perhaps she likes to paint. 

We sit in silence for a bit, just enjoying being close to each other. I consider not washing myself for the rest of the week, just so that her smell stays on me when I cannot see her. I sigh heavily thinking of a way to meet her sooner this time, my shoulders heavy. I just can't stay away from her.

“How have you been doing the last few days?” she asks, placing her head on my shoulder.

“My week wasn't great either. First, I wasn't able to see you.” That earns me a chuckle from her, the sweetest melody. “Second…we’re chasing leads that go nowhere. People keep vanishing and…it feels like I’m failing them.”

She reaches out, her fingers brushing me where she rests them on my thigh. Her palms burn marks into my skin and I never want her to stop touching me. “You’re not flailing. You’re here. You’re trying. That’s what matters. I’m sure you’ll find out who does this soon”

The forest melts away as our gazes meet. “Careful,” I murmur with a wry smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Say things like that and I might not let you go.” I pinch her side lightly and she jumps from the tickle just enough to crash into me fully. I pull her in my lap and wrap both my arms tightly around her as if I’m afraid that she might want to run away. Soft eyes clash with mine and all I want to do is pepper kisses all over her face. Her breath catches as we’re wrapped in quietness, it’s like she too feels whatever this is between us, like it's too fragile to put a name on it. 

Moments stretch into eternity as I lose myself in her eyes. At last she pulls back carefully and we stand but she’s still in my arms. The bell of the church’s tower rings out three times and I know that our time is over. She rises onto her toes, pressing a briefest kiss to my cheek. Her pillowy lips are warm and I just know my stubble is scraping her. It ignites just the same thing in her that I feel, too. The faintest smell of her building arousal drifts to my nose and I get drunk on it.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “For cheering me up.”

I can't move. I can't breathe. Like the kiss has stolen my mind from me. She steps away and just then I notice a soft smirk that's plastered on my face. “Next time, sweetheart… aim a little closer.” I wink at her.

Her face lights up once more and her flushed cheeks burn against the night. I take one of her hands again and place a kiss there as goodbye. I want to keep her close but I know she has to go. 

Images of the feral wilderness that surrounds us flash through my mind and fear creeps up inside of me. I have to protect her at all costs. “Let’s stop meeting here. It’s too dangerous.” My brows furrow as I plead. “How about Tuesday, at noon, at the market?”

With a quick nod and a smile she promises to meet me there before she hurries into the trees and seconds later.

I take a deep breath and let my senses be flooded by our evening. She’ll be the death of me. Then, I stride with soundless steps in her direction to accompany her home from where she can't see me. 

I almost lose her smell in the woods but then I hear fast paws approaching. 

Four.

They’re swift.

It’s a wolf. 

My heart flutters as pure terror burns through me. 

It’s following her. 

My feet begin to work before my mind knows what I’m doing. I sprint and follow, trying to catch up as quickly as I can.

Suddenly, the calm of the night is ripped by a low growl and the snapping of sharp teeth. It ululates, like a predator that’s found its prey just before I hear bones snap.

Then a scream. Ice floods my chest. My heart stops.

YN.

[PART ONE]

[PART THREE]

Your spine tingles, having nothing to do with the night air. His voice is deeper, slightly warped to carry an animalistic growl lacing every letter. Fingers thread through the thick, dark fur, leaning down, so your front is pressed to the nape of his neck, chin propped up between his ears. “Not anymore.”

His laugh rumbles through you, cooking up something hot and syrupy between your thighs. Spine arches a little, lips quirking helplessly. “We’re almost there,” he reassures, continuing silently through the woods, prowling between the thick evergreens. Silvery moonlight catches on the pinecones, making them glitter—dusted with frost.

Tendrils of mist curl from your mouth, making his ears twitch as the hot air hits them. You laugh at the reaction, raising one hand to scratch at their backs. A low purr resounds from his chest, thighs squeezing his sides in mutual pleasure. “I love your fur, you know,” you mumble softly, fingers playing with him roughly. Another purr growls from his maw; your lips stretch into a smile.

With your front pressed directly onto him, and the cloak sealing in his heat, you’re baking. Cooking pleasantly while the chilly night air licks at your ankles, playing with the hem of your dress. “Where are you taking me, again?” You ask, shifting to get comfortable. Muscle ripples beneath you with each silent paw forward, and with your ear pressed against him, you can pick out the steady beat of his heart.

“Patient,” he reminds, head raising as if to look at you. “Good things come to those who keep their mouths shut,” he purrs, mirth clear in his voice.

“I thought you liked my mouth, Cassie,” you tease, grinning in the night air, pressing yourself closer so there’s no way he can’t feel the swell of your breasts. You’re rewarded with a rough growl, hands and thighs gripping tighter as he leaps across a stream, mist curling up from the water.

The trees open up into a small clearing, that in turn leads to a cliff face. You blink, not quite believing your eyes, then sit up straighter. “Cassian…” you breathe, “what is this place?”

“I thought you’d like it,” he replies, tail swishing behind him in the knee length grass. “Now behave and hop off.” Lips quirk at his tone, swinging one leg over his back, sliding off once he’d settled low.

Hesitantly, you wander near the ledge, keeping a safe distance as you peer out across the world. Lights pull into constellations in the distance, showing small settlements and villages dotted across the grassland. The clouds are pillowy and silver, softened by moonlight, stars twinkling in the night sky.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, turning to peer at him, hazel already watching you. “How did—” You fumble for words, looking back across the world. “How did you even find a place like this?”

Cassian prowls up beside you, shifting into the form you’d met him in. Strong arms wrap around your ribcage, hands grazing beneath your breasts in a show of affection. “I take it you like this,” he chuckles, squeezing softly, careful not to hurt. “It’s amazing,” you reply, craning your neck to peer up at him. “Perfect.”

Arms release you, slowly moving to your hips as he turns you around, keeping you pressed tight. “Good,” he purrs, hazel eyes gleaming with hunger, moonlight softening the planes of his features. “You deserve perfect.” His head dips, lips parting over your own, and you melt into him. Spine curves, hips press close, tongue strokes the roof of your mouth.

A sound of need works its way up the back of your throat, hands moving to tangle in his hair, desperate to have him closer. He growls in response, fingers tracing your spine, reaching its base. Grips your ass, teeth grazing your lip as he squeezes, hips bucking. Hand threads in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat, canines grazing the smooth column.

“Cassian…” you breathe, clinging onto the male before you, soaking in his heat and pleasure. Lips quirk against your skin, “manners, sweetheart.” Fangs nip, and you gasp, spine arching. “You’re such a dick,” you whisper, laughter clear in your voice. Hot breath puffs over the expanse of your shoulder as he mirrors your reaction, the deep timbre of his mirth making need bubble beneath your skin.

“That’s no way to speak to me,” he laughs. “I thought you wanted this.” Hands grip your hips, pulling you tight against him, allowing you to feel the shape of his arousal. Just like that, fight disintegrates, indignation leaving your body as you flush. “I do,” you pant. “Give it to me.”

He lands a harsh spank to your ass, making you yelp, then glare at him, arousal clear in your scent. “I thought I told you to learn some damn manners, sweetheart. How can you expect me to reward bad behaviour?” He tugs you further from his mouth, making you whine. “What do you want?” You breathe, dark hazel locking with your own gaze.

A smirk graces his mouth and your knees go weak, muscles having trouble keeping you upright. Eyes flick over your shoulder, “go lie down for me.”

Cassian releases you; you blink. Confused.

His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth in reprimand, heat liquidating in the pit of your stomach. Reluctantly, you move out of his warmth, wrapping your cloak tighter to your body, hastily choosing a nice spot in the grass. Lower to the ground. Watch him expectantly.

“Better,” he drawls, male arrogance gleaming in his sharp eyes. “You can be good after all.” Teeth push into your lip, forcing yourself not to snap a retort. Satisfaction glitters down the bond; you shiver. Pleasure pooling. Grin turns a little feline as he begins prowling forward. “Now, sweetheart,” he begins, and you watch, blood heating as he shifts slightly before you eyes. “Open up for me.”

Breath catches in your lungs as you figure his intentions. Why he’s transforming to that partially bestial form. Why that hunger is so prominent. And you’re utterly at its mercy.

Throat rolls, heart spikes, thighs spread. Lips twist at your obedience, canines far more prominent, nails sharpened into claws that scrape across your skin as he arrogantly settles between your legs. Hooks them over his broad shoulders. “We’re far away from any kind of civilisation,” he growls lowly, your toes curling, chest rising and falling with anticipation. “Don’t be afraid to get a little more vocal.”

Insides turn molten, the last thoughts leaving your head.

Canines snag on the band of your underwear, cotton burning your skin as he slowly tears it from your hips, leaving you naked and glistening before him. Mouth prone to attack. Arms tremble with the force of keeping your upper half elevated, wanting desperately to see—to watch everything he’s about to do.

“Please, Cassian,” you moan softly, ankles crossing at his back, trying to pull him closer—deeper to your heat. Tongue laps over his lower lip, roughened by the partial transformation, spine tingling at the sight. And how is he ever supposed to resist?

Heavy breath gushes from your mouth as he lays the flat of his tongue over your clit, swiping over it in a teasing motion, making you buck upward, whining at the stimulation. The bumps are ever so slightly more pronounced than on a human tongue, raised almost explicitly for your pleasure, to add that edge of roughness.

He’s returning for more almost instantly, the hot, wet muscle pressing against your entrance, licking and lapping as he sets to work on pulling you apart. So you can know the stars are watching as you come on his tongue.

His cock stiffens at the thought alone.

You curse under your breath as his tongue slides into you, curling deeper than your own fingers can reach. Eyes roll back, falling onto your forearms as he pushes inside your heat. Thighs spread further, inviting him closer—until his nose is pressed flush to your clit.

“Cassian…” you pant, finally collapsing down into the grass, staring up into the inky sky, splattered with twinkling lights. “Cassian, please…oh gods…” Vision blurs, heat overwhelming your body as his thumb drags over the sensitive bud, claw lightly grazing your inner thigh. Swiping back and forth, leisurely stroking you to the beat of your heart. Lower lip wobbles, breaths gasping, legs locking over his shoulders.

He purrs, powerful, sporadic vibrations coating his tongue, bordering on a sinful, low laugh. Dark dots blink across your gaze, back bowing from the ground, the wet muscle curling against a sensitive spot that he knows makes you weak. Steadily presses agains it, rubbing the rough flat of his tongue over it, abusing it until you’re trembling; on the verge of coming apart.

Nipples peak beneath your cloak, teeth prodding into your lip with pleasure, coil tightening with the stimulation. Toes curl as you squeeze your eyes shut, skin bubbling with heat, soaring higher, and higher, and—

You whimper when his tongue retracts, hands leaving your skin feeling cold and empty. Eyes fly open, searching to locate him. The smug bastard is grinning, settling back on his heels as he watches you. Tongue laps over his mouth, bringing more of your taste.

“Cassian,” you whimper, “come back here.” Thighs open for him, hazel licking up over your heat, hot and messy from his attention. Arousal begs to be itched, but he stays where he is, simply enjoying you squirm for no other reason than to get off on how badly you need him. He is instrumental to your pleasure. The foundation it is built upon.

Skittishly, you push up on one hand, the other settling between your thighs.

The second the pad of your middle finger locates your clit, he growls sharply, making you jerk, toes curling.

“You want to feel good, sweetheart?” He drawls, allowing himself to fall back into the grass, palms pressed flat to the ground. All lethal grace and fluid movement. “Come up here and make yourself feel good.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, you’re scrambling forward, clumsily crawling over to him. Sharp hazel gleams with satisfaction as he grips your jaw between his hands, slanting his mouth over your own, sharing the flavour of your arousal. You nearly collapse on top of him from pleasure, muscles spasming as you’re caught between wanting his mouth on your own, and having it between your legs.

Cassian saves you the decision when he pulls back, saliva connecting you. Lands a firm spank to your behind, spurring you into action as you crawl up his body. Large hands guide your thighs either side of his head, so you’re encompassing his view. Before you’re even had a chance to sit yourself down, his tongue is flicking over you, pleasure zapping your clit at the texture.

Legs spread, allowing him to pull you down onto his mouth.

Eyes roll back, head tipping, a loud moan spilling form you as his inhuman tongue presses into you, fills you up. Curls against the spots again, targeting them with punishing intent. Hips swirling over his face, surely soaking him in arousal. You know it pleases him. Just as it does for you when he spills into your mouth, splattering across your lips and cheeks. How he likes it when you scoop it up on your fingertips, lapping at it, keeping his gaze locked with your own.

Right now, your hands thread in his hair. Fumble. Fall forward, palms splaying in the grass as you wind your hips over him, recreating the movements of when you’re riding his cock—having him buck up into your cunt, touching the places that make you sob. His nose bumps your clit repeatedly, intentional on his part, and the loudest moan yet breaks from your chest.

Thighs tremble and spasm as he works you through the high, allows you to sink your weight onto him without worry of hurting him. Cassian’s own mind goes blank as he feels you fluttering around him, tasting the shift in your flavour, the concentration of pleasure making him buck his hips. He needs to put himself inside you, needs to have you screaming and begging for more.

Before the waves have even fully subsided, he’s roughly flipping you onto the ground, pinning you to the grass as his hands fumble with the ties of his trousers. Your hips buck as the aftershocks begin to fade too quickly, and you reach for him, clawing at the air desperately. “Cass…Cassie…” You pant, air curling from your lips in the cool night wind. “Cassian— Please!”

His tip presses to your entrance, a sharp growl splitting form his throat as his canines grow, pupils dilating. Snarling as his body shifts to fit perfectly with your own.

Spine bows from the grass as you feel him slide into you, pushing you into the ground as his hips meet the backs of your thighs. Lips part in a silent moan, arms wrapping over his broad shoulders, fingers threading in his hair. “Cassian…oh my gods…”

He snarls a rough laugh, becoming more beastly than human. “That’s it,” he growls roughly. “Take every damn inch. Feel that?” His hand splays across your lower abdomen, feeling where the skin lifts to accompany his size. Tears well at your lashes, hips bucking wildly as you urge him to move, to slam into you, to fuck you until you’re up with the stars, too.

“Cassian, please…gods, please…” Hot streams of salty water spill down your cheeks, ankles crossing as you pull him deeper, both of you groaning at the pleasure.

The muscles in his arms flex as he draws back, and slams back in. Not even giving you the chance to prepare.

Breath whooshes from your lungs, and you might have screamed. Nails scrape at the skin of his back, strength rippling beneath your fingertips as he pounds into you, the softest brush of fur silkily grazing your thighs whenever he presses all the way in.

It’s different from how he’s taken you before—you can feel more of him. In this form, you have access to everything about him. The soft hairs dusting his lower abdomen, leading down to his cock, how it swells abnormally beneath the tip, how he uses it to abuse that poor spot over and over.

Tears stream from your eyes, teeth scrape your throat, grazing a patch between your neck and shoulder, before stamping in his mark. One of your hands threads in his hair, head twisting to the side to make room for him, legs widening so he can do whatever he wants. His own move to your hips, satisfied with the bitemark he’s printed on your skin, angling them higher—raising them from the ground.

A cry pulls from your chest at the position. How deep he can go while his fingertips dig into the softness of your hips and waist, keeping you steady as he uses you to his pleasure.

Heat buzzes between your legs, hands grappling for something to hold onto as he pounds your sensitive sex, treating her so roughly you could scream from how good it feels.

The euphoria builds, multiplying so rapidly it completely knocks you off your feet when your orgasm crashes down. His name chants on your lips, a series of pleads and prayers as your eyes go wide, back arching to the full moon as your head tips back into the grass. Thumb gently rolls over your clit, careful not to overwhelm you and cut it short. He needs to feel you spasming around him for as long as possible.

Cassian curses under his breath, swearing viciously as he grinds his hips against your own, spurting into you. Letting you feel all of it. The hot, thick liquid spilling inside your heat, Cassian making sure it’s tucked deep inside, unable to resist the primal urge to stuff you full until you’re as satisfied as he is.

Heavy pants fill the open clearing, limbs tangled together, joined in a hot mess of release.

It takes you minutes to remember words, and that’s too long for him to wait, set on pulling orgasm after orgasm from your body. Already hardening again against your sensitive walls, making you whimper with a mix of fear and anticipation.

Teeth push into your lip as he starts up all over again, working you to that edge, thumb swiping over your clit despite the sensitivity that makes your thighs tremble. You already knew it was going to be a long night, but only now is the realisation dawning on you. What kind of mess you’ve gotten into with him.

Nesta followed Gwyn into the room, looking like she was ready to go on a rampage. It had Cassian's heart beating as loud as a drum.

"Everything okay, Nes?"

"Don't call me that!" she snapped at him, her arms crossing over her chest in a way that emphasized her generous breasts. Cassian had to consciously keep himself from flicking his gaze down to them. She closed her eyes as she breathed deeply, and Cassian want to protest at her taking away his view of those brilliant, stormy irises. "I'm going to go for a run. Gwyn, are you okay here with them?"

Gwyn nodded, but Cassian barely noticed as his eyes widened. "Oh, can't I go with you? Please?!"

"We agreed you all would stay in the house."

"I know, but I'm dying," he groaned. "I need to do something and there's really not enough room here for much physical activity."

She pursed her lips. "I can't have you running away. We'll get in so much trouble if we let a demon loose."

"I can guarantee that won't happen. You really think I'm going to run away from you?" He flashed her a small half-smile, and he couldn't help but notice the way the corner of her lips twitched upward just a bit.

"Fine," she sighed, sounding more exasperated than she looked. "I think I have some clothes from an old boyfriend you can borrow. I'll just have to do a little magic to make them bigger. Stay here."

With that, Nesta floated upstairs as Cassian tried to balance his glee with the sinking feeling in his stomach at her words. It's not that he had any right to be jealous, but he definitely didn't like hearing about Nesta having an old boyfriend. Especially one whose clothes she still had.

Why did she keep them? Were they just extremely comfortable? Were they relics from a love she regretted losing? A trophy of sorts? Did she wear the clothes often? Bask in the scent this boyfriend left behind?

Were they forgotten at the back of her drawers? Or proof that her heart belonged to someone else?

He jumped at a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he found that Nesta had returned. Apparently he'd been pacing.

"Here, I meant to burn them, but never got around to it. Lucky you." She handed him the clothes, and Cassian let out a loud sigh. Burning was good. Well, good enough. Those words gave him the ability to admire Nesta's new outfit. The tight leggings and well fitted pullover, showing off every one of her curves in a way that practically had him salivating.

Taking the clothes, Cassian changed in the bathroom as Nesta instructed, only bothering to put on the shorts. Running would warm him up quickly enough. Plus, he wasn't disappointed by the lingering, rolling gaze Nesta gave him when he came back into the living room.

It took her a moment to collect herself, but she didn't say anything, probably not wanting to admit to whatever she was thinking. It didn’t stop Cassian from throwing her a crooked, cocky smile.

Nesta rolled her eyes and let out a huff. "We'll see you both in a bit," she offered to Gwyn and Az before beginning out the door, Cassian following her. But she didn't go far. Nesta stopped in the middle of the front yard.

He was about to ask when he saw Nesta pull one arm across her chest with the other and realized she was doing some warm up stretches. He joined her, stretching out the muscles in his legs and arms, following her lead and keeping his eyes down. It was an effort when he saw her doing toe touches, knowing what view those leggings would be providing. But he held strong. He'd wait to stare at her ass so blatantly until she gave him permission.

"All right, stay close, don't run ahead of me, and don't go chasing any squirrels," Nesta ordered.

Cassian couldn't help but laugh as they started to jog at an easy pace. "I'm not an actual dog, Nes."

"Call me that again and I'll turn around and end this jog." They turned down a street to a road that was much longer than the one Nesta lived on. It was lined with trees and brightly colored mailboxes that all stood at the end of identical driveways. Most of the houses were the same two-story structure as Nesta's, but many of them had been repainted and landscaped to show their own personality. One or two seemed to have been renovated with additions or entirely rebuilt.

It was…quaint. At least, Cassian thought that was the word. Nothing in the Underworld could be described that way, so it was hard for him to know. Everything down there was designed to look ominous or threatening. He wasn't sure why. They could easily do everything they did from nicer looking neighborhoods like this one.

At the end of this street was a large park. Nesta led Cassian across the road and onto a running path that seemed to go around the entire area.

"So, why don't you want to go back?"

Nesta's words cut through Cassian's mind, drawing his attention away from the little pond they were passing and the ducks swimming there. "Uh…what?"

Well, that was a great response. Definitely the type to show Nesta he wasn't just the idiot werewolf she seemed to think he was.

"The Underworld," she clarified. "You and Azriel seem pretty intent on staying as long as we'll let you. Why is that? Why don't you want to go home?"

"Everyone needs a vacation Nes…ta." He caught himself just before the scolding came. She looked up at him out of the corner of her eye, her eyebrows raised. Cassian loosed a sigh. "Honestly, down there, it's hell."

Nesta snorted softly. "Sorry," she breathed when Cassian gave her a questioning look. "But, you know that's literally what most humans call the Underworld, right?"

"Yes, Nesta, I'm aware," he chuckled. "And obviously I don't mean hell in that literal sense." He lifted his arm and flicked her cheek softly. The amusement in her eyes nearly sent his heart soaring. "Then again, on some levels it is a lot like that. Not the eternal punishment thing, but it still sucks. It's dark all the time, and we don't have any living plants. Just dead bushes and trees, and dirt. A lot of dirt. We have houses and technology, it is a whole other world, but it's not as varied. It's main function is for work."

"Yeah, Az mentioned something about that. About how you all can do your work remotely and don't have to come up here? How does that work?"

Cassian didn't really want to talk about the entire structure of the Underworld. But if it kept Nesta engaged and speaking to him, he'd do it for a week straight. "Mostly through magic. Most demons have some small amount of magic. That's always been how we do our work - we use that magic to implant temptations, negative thoughts, dangerous desires, and more. The reason we had to come to Earth was because we typically needed to see the human, know them, to use that magic. Once we knew a person, we never had to go back to find them. Now, we can watch you all from our computers, get to know you and see you through the screen, and then play with your mind from the Underworld."

"That's creepy," Nesta cringed. "You all watch us?"

"Pretty much," he admitted. "Well, I mean, I don't. Not all demons do that work. Most of the werewolves are part of the armies of the Underworld. There are seven different princes of Hell, each one has their own army and their own demons who work for them. And they each get a different part of the Earth. The prince Az and I work for has North America. I lead his armies, Az manages all the demons."

"So Az is the creepy one?"

"Yup, exactly, remember that. Not me. Definitely not a creep over here." He gave her an awkward grin that seemed to force a small laugh from her.

Nesta 'hmmmm'd' in disbelief and turned them down a path that took them through a large garden. "Is that why Az was the demon who showed up when Gwyn did her spell?"

"It's possible," Cassian replied, his nose feeling a bit itchy. "I'm not sure why he was the one who got summoned, versus a lower demon in his organization. But i-it-it's unsurprising it wa-a-A-CHOO!" Cassian felt himself spit and spray all over the air. "Whoa. That felt weird."

"What? The sneeze?"

"Is that what that was?" Interesting. Cassian had never sneezed before, but he'd heard of them. He was about to tell Nesta just that when another one came on, this one even stronger.

Nesta came to a stop. "Okay, first of all, cover your mouth when you do that. Also, what is going on with you?"

"I'm not sure," he sighed, scratching at his arm. And then the back of his neck. "But I feel kinda weird. I definitely think another sneeze is coming. And I'm itchy all over."

Those blue-grey eyes surveyed the area, and were then scrunching up with her nose. "You probably have hay fever."

"What's that?"

"Uh, basically, you're allergic to nature," she explained. "Your body reacts negatively to it."

Well, that sucks. Cassian was finally able to experience grass and trees and flowers, only to find out that he couldn't be around them.

It seemed Nesta could read his thoughts on his face, because she added, "It's not a big deal. I have it, too. But I take medication for it. I can give you some tonight, so that the effects don't last. But we should probably head back so they don't get worse. And we definitely should leave the garden."

"But the flowers are so pretty!"

"And they're the worst when it comes to hay fever." Cassian pouted and Nesta gave him a sympathetic look. "But, maybe, if you're good tonight and not so annoying, I can bring you back here tomorrow, heavily medicated so you're not so affected."

Cassian's eyes widened as he practically shouted, "Deal!" There was no way he was going to pass up on that opportunity.

Nesta chuckled softly and turned, leading him back out of the garden and toward her house. Cassian didn't know exactly what 'being good' would entail, but whatever it was, he would do it. He'd been having the best conversation with Nesta he'd had so far, and if getting out of the house with her was the only way to do that, he'd do it again in a heartbeat. With or without this medication.

It was an effort not to laugh.

Of course, Nesta felt for Cassian. Allergies were the worst. But seeing this literal beast of a man become slow, slouchy, and sniffly because of a few trees was slightly amusing.

She was a bit upset to have to cut the run short, as shocking as that was. Nesta had actually been enjoying their conversation. The Underworld had always been a mystery to witches. And she was enjoying this other side of Cassian, a guy who was surprisingly easy and enjoyable to talk to.

"So," Cassian sniffled as they walked back down her street, "you're a witch."

"I am," Nesta confirmed.

"What's that like?"

Nesta shrugged, "Hard to say. I've been one my whole life. It's just who I am. I mean, what's it like being a werewolf?"

"Touché," Cassian chuckled just as Nesta opened the door for them.

"We're home!"

Gwyn rushed into the small foyer, looked a bit flushed and winded. "That was fast! I was expecting you to be gone for at least another half hour."

"Apparently, demons can get allergies, too. And I wasn't going to run alongside a constantly sneezing werewolf," Nesta explained, flashing Cassian a smirk. He smiled back at her, a twinkle in his eye.

Gwyn nodded in understanding, tucking her hair behind an ear. It was a nervous habit of hers. Why Gwyn would be nervous, Nesta had no idea. But she was going to find out. After a shower.

"Could Cassian use your shower?" Nesta asked, removing her shoes on the mat by the door.

Cassian perked up even more at that comment. "Oh, there's no need for that. We can share." He sent her a hazel wink.

Easy come, easy go. Though, Nesta didn't really mind the comment like she had been earlier. That run must've tired her out more than she thought. Or maybe it's just all the chaos of the weekend finally catching up with her. Either way, she simply responded with a small roll of her eyes and then headed up to her own bathroom as Gwyn agreed to Cassian using hers.

As she washed herself, Nesta couldn't stop her mind from wandering to the other being using up their hot water. To dark, shoulder-length hair he was likely lathering with shampoo right at that moment, to the abs she'd spent the past hour trying not to stare at, the corded muscles in his arms that rippled with each move step he'd taken on their jog. That vee of muscles she'd seen leading to his shorts, and something else…

Fuck.

This was going to be a problem.

a/n: I know, I know, it's been a while. But I always planned to come back to this, and look! I did it! 😄 Yay me! Hopefully, with spooky season coming, I'll have motivation for more. Plus, I like some of the stuff I did in this. Like the actual world building. And that's definitely bringing this back to the Halloween fic feel it was supposed to have. So fingers crossed!

“What? Wolves drool. They stomp and bring all the dirt inside the house. They wag their tales like idiots. Dog-brained. The whole lot of them. And now he’s hanging around?” He chides and jumps from the chair and elegantly promenades towards the open doors that lead to the balcony with his ears flat towards my direction. "Unacceptable!"

“He’s not like that.” I say, suddenly aggravated by his accusations. I stand from my chair, the blanket pooling at my feet. My room feels too big, like always, but cramped at the same time, like it would swallow me. The floor and walls are shiny and without one imperfection that’s so at odds with me. I’m not shiny, not special. To be frank I never felt good here as if it’s not my real home. I step out of the heap and walk to the balcony door, thin scratches of Bellz’s nails trailing the wood.

I exhale and let my head fall back into my neck as I grab the handle, considering pushing him to the side with the door a bit too harshly to make my point clear. He jumps out of the way as I swing the door open, the brisk air of the nearing dawn catches the length of my dress.

With his nose scrunched, he follows me onto the balcony and snorts. “They’re all like that.”

“He’s not,” I insist, my fingers fumbling with the edges of the cards inside my pocket. “When he looks at me… I don’t feel weak. Like I do when my mother talks to me. Or useless. He doesn't see me as the hollowborn without magic. He just– sees me.”

The cat goes very still, watching my every move.

“What did Morgana say to that?” he asks carefully, keeping his distance.

My pulse quickens, my lips pressing into a line and I grip the handrail tighter as I lean against it. The memories of my mother chiding me just minutes ago are making me feel smaller than ever before, like I’m a little child again.

I take a deep breath. “That I shamed the bloodline by running into the woods. That I put my future in danger just by playing hero. That I– consorted with a wolf.” My head falls to my chest as I replay how upset she was at my behaviour.

Beelz’s ears twitch back anew. “Consorted,” he echoes back with horror. I know he hates dogs – wolves. He’s a cat after all. I know it’s a remnant from the day I saved him as a kitten from a pack of wolves that played with him and nearly drowned him. But deep down he’s on my side no matter what. He hates my mother more than he hates wolves. “Sounds scandalous. She must have enjoyed giving you the speech again.” He scolds and sits beside my feet, brushing his cheek against my shin and purring to calm me down. “What else?”

“She said I was reckless. That I forgot who I am and to what coven I belong to. That if I keep this up, I’ll bring misfortune to my family’s name and no warlock will ever want me.” My throat tightens at the thought that she brought up again that I have to marry into the magical-world. “She said that I’m nothing but a disappointment. Again.”

Only the wind answers and the clouds soundlessly hide the half-moon, tinting us in darkness.

Beelz flicks his tail around my shin and retorts. “Charming woman. Your mother, Morgana Grimrose, Her Majesty of Misery. Really knows how to inspire confidence.”

I chuckle at that, bitter and frail. “I can’t keep doing this. Every time I try to… to be enough, it’s never enough.” I blink the tears away. “And now–” my gaze drifts toward the gate. Cassian is there again after he took another leap, standing tall, his ears peaked and on high alert. “Now I’ve given her a real reason to hate me.” After all, I can't say one bad thing about my mother. She dedicated her whole life to me – to the heirloom that I am. She raised me and taught me everything that I know. She made me who I am. But my heart cracks at the thought that she would never be proud of me, no matter what I’m doing to please her. My heartrate skyrockets at the thought that I have to try harder to live up to her ideals like I’m a bird with a broken wing flying into the sky, trying to fight against the thinning air as I’m trying to reach the moon.

Beelz’s eyes follow my line of sight. He catches Cassian standing guard. “The pavement is going to reek of his marking in no time.”

“That’s not what I mean.” I scold him sharply with my jaw clenched. It’s not because of Cassian’s presence there. It’s all about me, again, not fulfilling the destiny my mother sees in my future.

Beelz recoils and his hackles rise at my biting comment. His eyes dart between Cassian and me, how I gaze at him with longing and pity. Then he says, softer. “You really aren't afraid of him, are you?”

I shake my head. No. I’m afraid of everything else. Of what’s going to happen when they find out. That I– that I like him? That I have the biggest crush on him? That I’m forbidden to be near him – a wolf. That I’m bespoken to someone my mother will choose for me, someone who fits into her view of the world. “I’m afraid of losing this before it even begins.”

“Then maybe that’s the problem.” Beelz puffs his chest and curls his tail neatly around his feet but looks up into my sad face, one single tear escaping the corner of my eye. He sighs “I suppose I’ll allow the mutt to linger.” I look down at him, my lips quirking into the faintest smile. “For now.” He adds and a slow grin splits his failing arrogance.

“But if he puts one paw out of the line, I’ll scratch his eyes out myself.”

“Thank you.” I whisper breathlessly with a shaky smile.

He turns to the door brushing my leg, the curtain flowing in the wind. “But I’m all you’ve got to tell you the truth. And the truth is, little one, that your mother doesn't scare me half as much as you do right now – standing on that edge, staring down at him like your heart’s already his.”

I only hear half of what he’s saying. Cass turns around and our gazes lock. I can’t read his face. He’s worried and tired but he gifts me with a smile and I wave at him good night before getting inside, leaving the balcony door open, to listen to his footsteps wander up and down the outside of the fence, making me feel calm and safe, while I drift to sleep.

The scraping of cutlery against ancient porcelain fades in my ears. The polished crystal glass that sits in front of me like a statue reflects my face like I’m a ghost – a transparent entity on the verge of existing. I keep my eyes down as the grand hall with its high ceilings swallows the voices of my mother, her mother and my grand-grand mother. I fold my hands in my lap and my plate of barely touched food stares back at me. The knots in my stomach are keeping my appetite as my family discusses my future as if I wasn't even there.

“The Augra will see her in one week,” my mother says crisply, slicing into a pear with a silver knife. My grandmother says it like a decree. “She must be ready. She’ll present herself as a daughter of this bloodline…steady, disciplined, worthy.”

A shiver runs down my spine as her words sting in my chest. I know they want the best for me. I have to be most presentable and make a good impression. I want to make my family proud. Even if they couldn't fix me until now, I want to show them that I’m dedicated and that my future can restore the damage I did to them by being a Hollowborn.

I lift my eyes, straighten my back and pick up my fork again, forcing myself to eat something and engage in the conversation. “I won’t disappoint you.” My voice leaks the anticipated zeal.

My great-grandmother picks up her glass slowly and brings it to her lips even slower. It’s as if she’s fossilized – no one knows how old she really is. But her eyes are still as sharp as two dark gemstones cut with a thousand facets. “The Augra will confirm what we already know. That she belongs to our path. That her future is secured in our lines.” 

I bite down on my tongue, fighting the urge to ask what if the Augra tells me that there is another path for me? A different one? What if I have to follow it against the wishes of my family?

They’d only laugh. Or worse, turn the words in my mouth and coerce me to the future they want me to have.

I exhale soundlessly as I feel Beelz’s tail brush my ankle from beneath the table. His voice slides into my mind, dry and cocky as ever. “She’ll be powerful and even more so her offspring.” He mocks the words we’ve heard over and over for the past few years.

I know what my family has in mind for me. Giving them a daughter that will outshine every other coven like a diamond that’s hit by the sun at midday. I know that I’ll be a mother, but that’s in the far future. Witches are getting married after their thirtieth birthday, so they have enough time to develop their magic and be most powerful before conceiving. That gives me at least eight more years.

My lips twitch but I’m able to keep my face neutral at Beelz’s comment. No one else could have heard him. Mother hexed him when I had him mere weeks, so that only I could hear what he was saying… or the people I wanted to hear him. She said that his relentless yapping and sarcasm were annoying and she was too fed up with that.

My mother leans back in her chair, watching servants drape garlands of golden-threaded flowers over carved doorways while others are hanging fairy lights all across the walls. Fairies not taller than a child drift through the grand hall, measuring the curtains, perhaps to replace them with one’s in another colour. “Your birthday will be an event to remember,” she says in a smooth tone. “We’ve arranged surprises. Guests from afar, dignitaries who will honor you. You’ll be radiant, child. The center of it all.”

My fork stills against my plate. I hate surprises. The way my mother’s eyes gleam sends a chill all over my skin. Her surprises were never for me. They were for power, for show or for alliances. When I turned thirteen I had to engage in a debutante ball and she didn't tell me about that just an hour before leaving. All eyes were on me for the whole evening – the grey hollowblood-mouse drenched in all colours of the rainbow. She pressured me to talk to all the families and their sons and showed me off like I was her most precious possession – I was, I am. But it was horrible. All night in that enormous ball room I wanted to curl up into a silent corner and play with my cards all by my own. I never fitted into the witch world, everyone always saw me as the girl without power and they talked over my head like they were better than me. I suppose they are. It was all about politics and bonds behind closed doors.

“The girl’s future will be sealed before the moon wanes.” My grandmother cheers, holding out her glass to clink them with her mother and daughter. The sleeves of her dress flows from her arms like molten fire, missing the usual warmth. My birthday is in one week. I have one week to prepare to encounter hundreds of people again. It’ll be the debutant ball all over again.

As their glasses connect with a clinging ring, a sudden sharp crack screeches out. Everyone jolts as one of the gigantic gold framed mirrors splits down the center like a rift that opened to hell. A servant rushes forward but my mother lifts her hand to still them.

“An omen,” my grand-grand mother whispers, smiling like she’s pleased. “Change is coming.”

My pulse stutters and my blood is drained from my face. I swallow hard. I don’t need omens. I don’t want omens. I already feel the change clawing toward me. All I want is a calm life without surprises. My throat tightens as my air gets thin and I nearly shatter the glass of wine I’m holding. I have to get out of here.

“The wolf is still at the gates, my lady.” A servant comes to the table, the fairy was looking out of the window after testing samples of velvety fabrics in the sunlight.

My mother’s lips curl. “Of course he is.” She scoffs. “Wolves are stubborn creatures. Loyal to a fault, stupidly so. Let him rot there, it suits his kind.”

Heat flares in my chest and I know better than to duel my mother for her profanity, so I keep my eyes down. Even if a sharp remark is on the tip of my tongue, I cannot defend him. Not here. They’d scold me and would send me to study history again in the archives until I’d say the same toxic words as them. 

Beelz mutters, his whiskers twitching from where he’s sprawled at my feet. “She’s not wrong. All the drool! Dog-brained brutes.” I can't hold back, instead of kicking him, I slide him away from me over the polished black marble floor, to tell him silently that I don’t want him to insult Cassian.

I want to lash out and scream that Cassian isn’t like that. That he’s steady and fierce and…safe. Safe in a way no one in this hall ever made me feel. The times our hands brushed so tenderly and how he held me gently against his chest when I broke after saving the wolf from the trap ruled my mind and my dreams.

“You look pale, dear.” My mother’s gaze slides to me. “You should take a walk in the garden, get some sun.”

“Yes.” I say quickly, grasping the first excuse she gives me. “I need some air. Perhaps I’ll go to the market. We need new herbs, don't we? Fresh supplies.”

The hall goes quiet. My grandmother narrows her eyes with fire blazing there like she’s searching my soul for cracks. My mother studies me for too long as if measuring my plea. Finally she waves her hand with a graceful flick. “Very well. Go. Take the beast if you must. He’s your guard dog, after all. At least we know he’s bound to the laws of the peaceguards, so he’ll protect you.” 

The chair screeches against the ground as I stand up too eagerly, failing to keep my cool to get out of this situation. I’m half way to the entry way with Beelz hot on my heels when I hear her voice ringing from behind me. “Burn your dress when you come back, it’ll be beyond saving when it reeks of wet dog.” She laughs as the servant pours her another drink.

The words sting. I bow my head, hiding the burning behind my ribs.

Cassian

I spend the night walking up and down the iron fence. My feet and back are hurting like a bitch but that's nothing in comparison to the headache that manifested since I left the station last night. YN looked so small, so fragile, as her mother towed her along.

I had my fair share of encounters with Morgana. She’s the head of the most powerful coven of the witches and I can't hate her more. Her arrogance exceeds the ones I know from the alphas in the training camps and how she talks about other species curls my toe nails. It’s like no time has passed after the war between wolves and witches and does everything to remind the ones she thinks of as lesser – still calling wolves dreadful names, I hate it but I'm used to it. She’s keeping a hoard of fairies as her slaves and twists the law as it suits her to get the things she wants. I can't even count the occasions where she spun a delicate net of lies to manipulate the Council to make politics work for her interests.

I know how she distorts the people around her and that makes me afraid of what she’s doing to YN to bend her at her will. I was brooding the whole night over plans on how to help her to get her out of the fangs of her poisonous family, but there wasn't even one that was good enough. 

But what would I do after that? It’s not like I could just hide her in my house. Her family would come after me or spread rumors that I took her against her will…even if she was there because she wanted it. And then? I could never give her the life she deserves. The golden plates and the marble mansion she lives in is as far from my lifestyle as it could get. She’d be an outcast. From what little I know she sacrificed so much to fit in and I would be the one who destroyed it. She worked so hard to please her family and I can't take that from her. It would ruin her reputation and she would hate me for that.

Besides, how would her life go on if she’d lived with me? I have no clue what she could do as her profession…as a human. Sell stoneware at the corner of the market? Take the unforgiving job as an underpaid seamstress or a kitchen help on the end of the totem post? Could she get some position along the wolves? I scratch that instantly, she’d have to work relentlessly to earn their trust, even if she already has mine, it would take her decades. And even if that wasn't an issue, we would never be allowed to be together. It’s unheard of for a human or her as a hollowblood to mate with a wolf. I could never act on my feelings toward her, so I have to be her friend. That’s all I can do, even if it destroys me. 

A crystal shade of pale yellow crashes into the light blue of the morning as blackbirds and robins sing their first songs to announce the start of a new day. The swaying leaves of the surrounding trees are pitch black against the bright sky next to the looming gate of the family’s estate. The magic buzzes like a swarm of hornets in my sensible ears, but suddenly, the gate yearns open and my head shoots around.

There she is.

In a simple grey dress as always with a basket in her hand made out of woven willows. I stride towards her and as I catch her smiling at me, the annoying noise of the magic wanes as her presence overshines it. 

I square my shoulders, feeling lighter as ever, the pain in my body and head long forgotten. I cross the distance to her and can't help as the corners of my mouth tip upwards.

 “Good morning, Cassian.” She says it like it's a secret. I hum a good morning in response, then she pulls an apple from behind her back and presses it into my hand with a shy smile.

It’s shiny, with a delicious tint of red. It smells like heaven as if she took it from a forbidden garden. My mind drifts back to the memory of when I was abandoned in the training camp…Rhysands mother was the only grown up that was allowed there, she took me in and the first thing she fed me was an apple. It was as if life roared back into me. Now, it seems insignificant as I hold the apple that YN just gave me in my palm, like it’s the treasure pirates have been searching for for ages.

“I figured you were hungry.” Her small voice rings in my ears smoothly. 

“Starving.” I smile down at her before biting into it, the sweet juice spilling over my tongue. “You’re spoiling me.” My grin spreads wide. “You steal from your mother’s kitchens just for me?” I tease her to lighten the mood.

Her cheeks rise and heat up as she looks away, but I don't miss the way her lips twitch. Cauldron, it makes my chest ache.

“How are–” I begin to ask but she places her index on her lips, signaling me to keep my voice down. Does she think her mother can hear us out here? Fuck I hate magic.

“I need to go to the market.” She says it like an excuse and I take the basket from her, keeping her close as we walk down the cobblestone streets.

We come to a halt at the diamond fountain, the water calmly splashing behind us as we sit next to each other on the concrete that’s holding the icy liquid. Her hands come out of her pockets, red streaks in her palm like she grabbed the deck of cards in her pocket too hard for too long. They’re trembling and she keeps her head down as if she’s afraid. I can hear her heart beating fast and I smell the stress on her. I inch closer and take her hand in mine. “How are you?”

The question isn't as simple as it seems as she opens and shuts her mouth, fishing for the right words. I rub soothing circles on her skin to encourage her. “I’m sorry I didn't tell you–”

A man passes by, a warlock with blues and lilac gleaming in his robes. He sneers at YN as he spits on the ground. “Hollowborn. No wonder you need a mutt at your side. Perhaps he fetches your leash, too?”

I freeze and the air shifts around us. I’m between her and the asshole in an instant, shielding her from him. My voice is deep and sharp as I growl at him. “Watch your mouth.”

The warlock just grins but steps back. “One more word and I’ll have you at the station for offensive speech and insults.” The man falters but his eyes narrow at me, at the wolf looming beneath my skin. With a huff, he turns and slithers back before trails off with a dark look on his face.

My hackles still stand as I watch him leave until he’s out of sight. I turn around to find YN holding the basket with trembling hands. I kneel before her, covering her shaky hands. “Ignore him,” I say gently. “He knows nothing about you.”

She swallows and her eyes glaze over. “I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn't have to be.” My tone leaves no room for argument but she still looks like she has a dagger in her back.

“Is that why you didn't tell me what you were? Because of people like him?” She whispers and her eyes lock on mine and I can see the hurt.

My jaw works before I answer. “Wolves don't exactly have the cleanest reputation. And I didn't want to see fear in your eyes when you looked at me.” It’s true. Humans most of all are taught as soon as they can crawl that wolves pose a threat to them. There were times when my species was wild and untamed, but taking a child has always been a lie.

The frown on her face reminds me of when I saw her in the stone circle. I just wanted her to be okay. To make her whole again.

She frowns and slips her hands over mine, now soothing me. “I’m not afraid of you. Just…of everything else.”

Her honesty hits me like a blow. She’s not afraid of being close to me, because I’m a wolf. She’s afraid because of what society thinks about it. Until this day, interspecial bonds are looked down on. I catch the softness in her gaze. “That’s why you didn't tell me you were witchborn?”

She flinches at the word ‘witch’ and a single tear slips down her cheek. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, but… I didn't want you to see me as a deficient.” She admits, her voice cracking. “Everyone else does...”

My heart is in a wrench. How could anyone see this amazing girl as anything but a wonderful soul? Without thinking my hand cups her face, holding her tenderly. “You’re not less, YN. Not to me. When I look at you, the only thing I see is a wonderful girl. A girl that likes to show me her card ticks. I still don't know how you did that by the way.” It earns me a half chuckle from her. “And I see a girl that cares so much about everyone else that sometimes she forgets to take care of herself.” There is a flicker of hope in her eyes, it’s fragile but alive and I’m determined to nurture it until it grows into a beautiful flower.

Her eyes bore into mine and she falls into my arms. I press her to my chest, holding her tightly as she tries to contain her whimpers. It pierces my heart and the alpha in me takes over. I’d do anything to make her hurt go away. But I have to know how the damage began to heal her shattered heart.

“What has your family done to you? Why have you been in the forest at night?” I ask cautiously, I don't want to frighten her.

She lightly pushes back but steadies herself with her hands on my shoulders. “The ritual.”

I’m in a stun. That sounds even worse than I thought. “Ritual?” 

She nods and I can see the veil closing before her inner eyes as she begins to speak. “When my parents noticed that I was Hollowborn, my mother arranged a ritual. Every sunday, I’m brought into the caves beneath our estate, where she summons the ghosts of our ancestors, begging them to gift me with the magic that I should have gotten when I was born. I’m painted with sigils, given a potion and fall into some kind of trance. It feels like you’re being ripped apart – to give the spirits an entrance into my body. But I never stopped trying even if…I just have to make up for being just human. I have to make them proud and earn my place.”

It’s like someone shot an arrow right through my ribs. 

For how long has this been going on? Why would her parents make her go through all of that when there never had been a record of a human that received magic powers after their birth. Now it all makes sense.  When she said it was torture. That her parents try to squeeze something from her that isn't even there. They never gave a fuck about her, just what her body could hold for them to expand their power.

All I can do is gaze at her and let her go on. “Whenevery I woke up, I felt more empty than before – disconnected and truly hollow. I needed something real, so I ventured into the forest to calm down, to feel anything else than the remaining poison that tore at my soul. I liked being in the forest. Everything was so serene and quiet. I knew about the dangers but at some point I didn't care anymore.”

Did I hear right? Is she telling me that her own life didn't matter to her? All of that, just because her parents want her to be something she isn't? Fury burns in my veins and I’m seconds away from turning into a werewolf from the rage. The beast inside me scratches from within, begging me to be let out and run back to her parents to rip them into ribbons.

“But it changed.” She says calmly and gives me a weak smile. “It changed the night I met you.” Her words still the wolf inside of me, like the hand of the Mother soothing over my raised hackles, pushing my other half back into its cage. My heart pounds in my chest and my throat feels tight. “You were– are so different from my family. You talked to me and I felt the spark in my eyes come back. You wanted me to show you my card tricks. And you made talking to you so easy, you made smiling so easy. I’ve never felt like that before.” 

“I’m sorry that they treat you that way. You don't deserve that. Nothing of that.” I cup her cheek again and brush a tear away with my thumb. “YN, we have to report this. They’re mistreating you.”

“N-no. We can’t do that. They’re my family. They’ll be punished and their reputation will be ruined. We can’t–”

I stop her rambling. “YN, they don’t mean well. They’re hurting you. That’s not what family is supposed to do. They’re supposed to be there for you and protect you, like–”

She shakes her head weakly and a small smile appears on her face. “Like you do.” 

My heart stops at her words. “Yes, like I do. Sweetheart, I promise I’ll be there for you. Whatever you need from me, I’ll be at your side. I won’t let them do this to you anymore.”

She nods and nuzzles into my palm. I let a purr reverberate from my chest, deep and calming, not hiding it anymore. I let her feel it in her bones and she melts against me, her heartrate evening out again, like a cat falling asleep in front of a cozy fireplace. “The night we met it changed me, too.” I open up to her and the birds around us seem to sing louder, more lively. “You saw me as just a guy, not the alpha brute everyone else thought me to be. You let me close without scrunching your nose or throwing insults my way.”

“Seems we’re in the same boat.” The glitter in her eyes is back as she smiles sweetly at me. My heart blossoms and I lean forward to press a soft kiss to her forehead. She lets out an exhale, like she was holding her breath for a lifetime, like it’s the first time she can suck in air freely.

I stand up and gently pull her to her feet. I take the basket and my free hand grabs hers, intertwining our fingers as I lead the way down the street towards the market.

It’s bustling with people of all shapes. I try to focus on the job, scanning the crowd, reading faces, listening to danger – but my eyes keep pulling back to her.

She picks out herbs and dried bouquets of lavender. The light of the early sun catches in her dress. I swear it was grey this morning, but now I can see that it’s embroidered with threads of finest silver fire. It makes her skin come alive, haloing her like she’s a goddess of the old days. She’s not plain at all, not overlooked, like she’s something rare and she doesn’t even seem to know it.

She walks along the stalls, browsing for flasks and flowers, handing the dealers copper coins for the items that slowly fill the basket. She plucks a flower from the bouquet and gazes up at me with a smile before cautiously adding it into the pocket on my chest. The sweet fragrance smells just like her and it seems like she gives a piece of herself over to me. It’s a sincere gesture that means everything to me. I brush my hand against hers in thanks. The heat creeps into my cheeks as I square my shoulders proudly. Having a flower that she picked for me is like becoming a member of the knights.

The smile on her face is real as she holds small talk to the vendors and I wonder how she can cope with the dread that her family puts her through. How her mother grabbed her in the interrogation room… How can she still be so tender and kind while they torment her with this ritual every week. I’ve seen her twice right after and it carved all strength from her. There has to be something I can do to prevent her from going through that again.

A silent but very cute squeal from her lips pulls me out of my thoughts like a lifeline. She comes to stand in front of a table with little stuffed animals and homemade baked goods for the furry pets. She pulls a white fluffy mouse up by its tail and a beaming smile graces her face. “What’s that for?”

“For Beelz.” She says it like I should obviously know what that is.

“Beelz?” I grin at the name.

“Yes, Beelzebub. My cat. Don’t laugh at me. I named him when I was little and I thought the name was hilarious. I always whined to my parents, because I wanted a sibling. One day, I found him as a kitten when a pack of pups played with him and almost drowned him, so dog’s don't have a very good reputation from his perspective. I saved him and took him home. My mother enchanted him, so he could talk and keep me company.” She chuckles. “Well, to my misfortune he became the little brother I never wanted. Always a witty remark on his lips, always dipping his paws into my fresh glass of water and shaking the drops into my face.” 

“A talking cat. Who would have thought that?” I smirk. I adore the way she talks about her cat….about the way she talks about everything. It’s like she’s a maze and I can't wait to get around the next corner to see what wonders lie there, hoping to never find the exit. The fabric is soft as she brushes it with her thumb like she drowns in her own thoughts.

“He’s the only friend I’ve ever had.” She says absently.

I let out a low chuckle. “And here I thought I was special. Already beaten out by a cat.” Her head snaps to me and she glows at my joke.

“I don’t steal apples for him.” She remarks brightly. It pulls a warm laugh out of me. Cauldron, she’s going to undo me.

“Here, let me.” I dig in my pocket and tell the vendor to keep the change before she smiles at me and puts the stuffed mouse into the basket.

She links her arm with mine as we stroll down the street together. A nagging bites inside my chest. “Back there, in the interrogation room,” I say, keeping my voice careful. “You called me your friend. Did you mean that?”

We slow down as she stiffens a bit at my words, blinking at me, then nodding shyly. “I…I’ve never really had one before you. So…yes. I mean it. I was happy to have someone there that was on my side. I was happy to have you there.”

Breath caught in my chest as her cheeks tint with a rosy colour. Her face turns down as if she is embarrassed, it’s cute. “Hey,” I call her silently and tip her chin up gently, so she looks up to me as I gaze into her, like it could bury the information into her. “I’m your friend, YN.” the corners of her lips turn up, and it is like she’s blinding me with her smile. “I’m also happy that I was there. I was ready to rip everyone into shreds who threatened you.”

“Thank you.” She breathes and leans her head on my shoulder. Slowly, we make our way back through the crowd and her fingers brush over my arm from time to time reassuringly and like it was the most normal thing for us to do. We move together and her presence fills the spaces inside of me that I haven't even realized were empty. For the first ime in a long while, despite the shadows of missing wolves and the danger that seems to press closer, I feel a flicker of something I never dared to hope for. 

She never pulls away from me, rather squeezing closer. Her lovely smell drifts up to me and I can tell she’s finally able to relax. And my damned heart nearly leaps out of my chest. I’m able to do that to her and I’m ecstatic. People stare but I couldn't care less. For once, I don't care about the whispers, the rules, the lines drawn in blood between wolves and witches and humans. All I see is her. 

We round the corner and are back at the diamond as I can’t stifle a yawn. 

“You’re tired.” She says with a stunned voice and a worried look that has no business being so sweet, like she just forgot that I did a literal double shift. I’m almost awake for a whole day, but her smell and presence soothes me so much it throws my body in a tranquil mood, like a lullaby sings a child to sleep. “You should go home and rest. You must be so exhausted.”

The yawn turns into a huffy laugh. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Az or Rhys will take the next shift after me. Just before you came to me, I got a dove telling me we’re running rotations. They’re in my pack – brothers, really.” My heart bleeds at the thought that I was blessed to have Az and Rhys as my brothers almost my whole life but she was alone for so long. “If I fell asleep on my feet, they’d kick me awake just to laugh about it.” I lighten the mood, remembering the pranks they used to play on me.

Her lips curve. “That sounds nice. Having people like that.”

We kick a stone further in front of us like it's a little game. “It is,” I admit softer this time. I want to tell her that she has them too now. Not only because she’s under my protection by law, but also because I feel deeply for her. More than I’d be ever able to tell. “And my mother, too. I’d never hear the end of it if she knew how little I’ve slept this week. But she…she’s everything. I owe her a lot."

“She must be proud of you.”

I swallow hard. Hearing that from her means so much more than it should. We walk a little longer, the silence between us comfortable as she cranes her neck to see a swarm of birds fly by. Perhaps, she wishes to be as free as them. 

We reach the corner of her street and I stretch out my arm to take her hand in mine and it feels like they’d been made to fit exactly, swinging them subtly between us. I can’t stop myself anymore. We come to a stand in front of the gates and I lean down, close enough to catch the faint scent of herbs and the sweetness of her perfume. I step between the gates and her, just making sure no one from within the mansion can see our faces. I’m losing my nerves as I brush my lips gently and feathery light against her cheek. A quick kiss, barely there, but enough to feel her shiver under it. 

She blinks at me, stunned, then smiles. Radiant with her eyes shining bright. “Thank you, Cassian.”

“For what?”

“For everything.”

And Cauldron help me. I want to promise her the world right here right now. Nothing, not witches nor traps would ever touch her again.

I gently squeeze her hand goodbye and let the silence say what I can't. I let her pass the gate with her full basket in hand and take the stand in front of the gates again and the deafening buzzing is back as if to yell at me to keep off. But I stay.

My boots are rooted to the gravel path as the run rises higher and the sleep deprivation plays tricks to my mind. That’s when I see it, just at the far corner of the fence in the treeline. A figure, cloaked and still, watching. I blink my eyes and my hackles rise as the wolf inside of me paces with ears picked. It must be the same one YN saw in the forest last night. One blink and the figure slips away into nothing as though it had never been there.

I almost lunge after it but I cannot leave my post. Can't leave her unguarded. My jaw clenches. Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe my mind plays tricks on me, but the dread in my gut says otherwise. It was real. Had it followed us from the woods and over the market? Had it been trailing her all along? How did I not notice it?

Will I tell her? Warn her that she isn't safe? Maybe not even in her own home. The wards around the mansion are thick but I have no idea what powers the figure has…But what good would it do, except frighten her even more? I promised her she could lean on me and fear isn't a gift I want to give her. Not until I’m sure what it is and how to fight it.

The wards hum louder and a sharp buzz is pressing against my skull. Then, cold and slick, a chill perforates my mind like icy fingers opening a locked door. I turn with my heart hammering in my veins, and there she is.

Morgana.

She’s standing in the high window, half hidden by the velvet drapes with her face carved in shadow but her eyes burning like a flame in the dark. Suddenly, her voice whispers, not aloud but inside me. “Stay away from her, wolf. Or I’ll tear you from her side myself.”

The curtains fall closed, swallowing her from my sight as her words still echo in my head. Now I have another threat on my plate. Not only the figure that makes people vanish and ignites the fear inside of me that it could trail YN and steal her away. But also that her witch of a mother wants me nowhere near her, even if I’d do anything to keep her safe.

I know I have to keep an eye on her, too.

[PART THREE]

[PART FIVE]

I welcome the blinking stars as I try to even out my breath. I’ve lost consciousness of the time I’ve spent underground in that cave. The smell of wax and herbs clings to me like a child that is afraid to look beneath its bed. 

Another week, another session is over. For years my parents made me attend this ritual. Every Sunday, I’m bathed and painted with ancient runes before the thin dress that covers me barely is thrown over my form. My mother told me that the spirits need to see the sigils, so that they could work as a door to leave them into my body. 

I’m a Hollowborn. I’m descended from a long line of witches but the Mother denied me my powers when I was born. That makes me a just human woman. A shell that has no magic at all. But my family never gave up trying to wake the powers inside of me. Since I was six I attended the ritual that they specifically constructed for me. 

After I’m painted, I’m led into the cave and lay down on the bare altar. Even though there are hundreds of candles, the stone remains cold against my back. The smells of burned angelica roots mixed with bay leaf oil and crushed black pepper. A paste of cinnamon, dandelion leaves and mint is applied around my body. My mother once told me the herbs are to please the spirits and give me the power my ancestors have. Her spells ran over my skin and dug into my mind. I’ve recited her words carefully and begged the Cauldron that this time it will work. 

But it was no use. I’ve failed again. The deeply rooted ache to make my family proud decreases with every failed attempt.

After the ritual I woke up alone in the cave. The trance still boomed in my head. I snapped my fingers, hoping that some sparks may fly from them. When I saw nothing, I cleansed myself as best as I could with the bowl of blessed water that waited next to me before I threw my usual dress over my head. It’s nothing special. A faint gray that resembles that I have no power. My family wears vibrant colors with fine patterns that imitate their witch magic. The thinning air in the dimly lit cave cramped down on my heart and I ran and stumbled out of the secret second entry of the cave that leads to the woods. 

My family doesn't know that I come here after the ritual. When I was little I found the hidden entry by accident but noticed that the night air calmed my ridden nerves. So, I come here after every séance and wait until I come back down to earth.

Clouds hide the moon and I open my eyes. I look down at my still shaking hands – the paintings are smudged and only a faint trail remains on my skin. My heart is beating fast and my trembling hand reaches into the pocket of my dress. As my fingers glide over the smooth edges of the deck of cards that I hide in there, I can feel my pulse in my throat leveling out. Before I can pull them out, I hear a branch snap behind me.

My fingers go still. I don't dare to breathe, my mind focuses on the evaded noise.

Another step. Closer.

I let go of the cards and stand, turning quickly.

A man emerges from the shadows. He is tall. No. Massive. Built like a mountain in a deep crimson peaceguard uniform. His body screams power, like others are pulled towards the floor in obedience. His dark locks are tousled against his sharp face and sculpted jaw. Eyes that were too dark to make out their true colors were focused entirely on me.

Our gazes meet and he stands frozen for a split second, like a long forgotten thought had struck him like lightning.

Then he raises his hands in a non-threatening gesture. “Whoa…sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” His rough voice is like honey to my ears, so at odds with his rugged frame.

My feet are muffled against the soft ground as I take a step back and my body goes rigid again, assessing what threat he poses.

I’m not allowed to be in the woods for a reason. As a human I’m the weakest link in the food chain. This world is haunted by all kinds of ‘monsters’ - as my mother likes to call them. Even if the law prohibits attacking humans and feeding on them, I’m aware that sometimes ‘accidents’ happen. Vampires dwell in the dark and lurk for a blood donor. Sirens and nymphs linger in the bright daylight and sing to weak ones through their minds, calling them to step closer. Ghosts and banshees hover in the air or are trapped in objects, but they are known to haunt people when provoked. Fairies and Gargoyles are used for home services – some look at them as lesser beings. The hybrid creatures aren't scourges like the other ones – centaurs, mermaids and harpies are just some of them. 

Then there are the witches. My kin. They’re said to be deceitful with their magic, but nonetheless enjoy a high status in society, because they provide all kinds of potions and protections to direct one’s nature. That’s why they’re the wealthiest. They sell spells and enchanted items and make good money with it.

But the most dangerous are the werewolves. The top tear predators in our world.

In a time long before mine, they only would shift into their wolf forms when the night sky was hung with a full moon, until the curse was broken by a powerful witch...also an ancestor of mine. I brooded long hours over the history books that my parents made me read. It was said there that with every full moon the wolves turned into beasts and killed everyone who was around them with bloodlust. But one witch was so in love with the wolf that she wanted to free him from the moon curse, so they could always be together in peace. As other wolves heard of it, they were furious that one of their members had been alternated contrary to their nature and revolted against the witches. That was when the war between witches and wolves shattered our world. There were no winners. But even if it was centuries ago, the two species still held the hatred for one another in their hearts. I was taught not to trust them since I can think straight.

 Now, all of the wolves can choose freely between their human and their wolf form. 

I stare at the man before me. My parents taught me how to tell if a person belongs to one kind or another, but I’m clueless about him. “D-don’t come closer.” My pupils must be dilated by the rush of adrenaline and the instinct to flee grows with every second. To ask one ‘What are you?’ has become very impolite during the last decades. I bite my tongue.

“Okay, okay.” He says calmly and takes a step back, letting his arms fall to his sides. The distance allows my body to ease just a bit. For how long have I not been breathing?

“What are you doing here?” I ask and try to hide the shakiness of my voice. 

His head tilts to the side and his forehead scrunches for a split second before his hand comes to his chest to tap the plate on his left pec. “I’m on patrol. People disappeared in these woods.” he states. I remember the headlines of the newspapers reporting of mostly wolves that vanished after entering the forest. That was a surprise, because even if this is a no-go-area everyone knew that wolves wandered these grounds. The medal gleams in the dim light as his fingers slide against its edge. “I’m a peaceguard.”

My pulse is still rushing through my veins. The peaceguards are bound by law to protect but my family emphatically told me to be aware of the dangers that anyone poses to me. I always had my concerns about their hard conceptions regarding the other species. Not once in my life have I had a bad encounter with one of the red-uniformed guardians. I’ve learned that I could trust them in the streets. But these are the woods. No man’s land – the law pliable. I didn't even know that the peaceguards are patrolling the forest that surrounds our city. 

“Please don’t get me wrong, but what’s a human girl doing in the woods all alone this late at night?” he asks, keeping a careful distance. His tone is gentle, but something about the way he says ‘human’ makes my eyebrows twitch. He speaks with confidence borderlining the arrogance of an alpha.

What is he? He looks human to me. Well, I look human, too. I’m probably making a fuss out of nothing.

I ease a breath and my shoulders slump. A sigh falls from my lips and I scold myself for thinking the worst. “Just…thinking. Breathing. Sitting.”

“Rough night?” He suggests it with a chuckle, probably to alleviate the situation. 

He won’t do me any harm. He’s a peaceguard. I take a half-step closer, but I keep the stone I sat on between us, still. “You could say that.” I chuckle nervously. 

A low breeze swings the seams of my dress, pulls strands of my hair with it and carries my essence towards him. The clouds that are shielding the moon's light make it impossible for me to see the micro expressions in his face. Maybe it’s wish-thinking but is that a speck of desire in his eyes? I can’t tell.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Yes. No. I’m not sure. The cards in my pocket feel like dead weight that’s pulling me down. Somehow, this stranger is able to pull my thoughts away from the terrors of the ritual. I can tell nobody about it. My hands are clammy and my voice small. “No, not really.”

He huffs a smile and takes a couple of steps towards me. My eyes acclimate between the dark shadows of the night. Something about him lets me think that his action is sincere and I tell myself to strengthen my knees and my feet move into his direction. We’re standing on opposite sides of the stone now. His hand comes up to the middle of his chest and he smiles down at me. “I’m Cassian.”

A rush ripples over my skin as he says his name. My gaze is locked on him. He’s handsome. Like otherworldly handsome. Like the Mother and the Cauldron choose him to be the ancient mold for heroes from the legends. He looks even taller now that he’s standing just one and a half feet away from me. The wind pulls strands of his wild curly hair around his face. Besides that, he’s well kept together. His uniform hasn't even one wrinkle and there are some stars on his shoulderplates that should give away his rank but I have no idea what they mean. 

My eyes fall to his extended hand. It’s large and inviting. A small smile dances on my face. No stranger that means harm would shake your hand, would he? 

“YN.” I say as I lay my small hand in his. It’s warm and closes gently around mine, shaking it carefully. The warmth of his hand reaches my heart and I notice that my pulse has ebbed down and my breathing evened out. My hand lingers in his just a second too long before I retreat it. 

“No surname?” He asks and grins, his voice tempting.

Everyone in the city knows my last name. I’m from the famous Grimrose family. Since I was born, the name was a heavy cross I had to bear. Too heavy for me, since I’m not inheriting the powers of my ancestors. Since I was little, my only wish was to impress my mother and her mothers with everything I do. But I can't make the ritual work on me. I do not deserve to wear this name. 

I don't want outsiders to see me as a failure, too. My index glides over my bottom lip before I answer as an absolute. “No last name.” I’m not giving it to him.

He nods politely and doesn't press on. I take the chance to change the direction of our conversation. “Peaceguard Cassian, what made you join the redwatch?” 

His deep chuckle rings over the calm woods. Redwatch is a friendly nickname given by the citizens – they’re clothed in a deep red uniform and are watching us to respect the laws and morals.

“I like keeping people safe,” he says. “Even the ones wandering around dark forests like they’re invincible.” 

My smile grows at his cheeky answer and heat rushes into my face. I can't hold his gaze and my eyes flicker to the stone that separates us. 

“Maybe I am invincible.”

“What powers do you have?” Curiosity shines in his eyes.

“Mostly getting lost in reading and spacing out.” I pull a chuckle out of him with my words. “What about you?”

“I'm unbeaten in armwrestling and can hold my liquor quite well,” dimples appear on his cheeks. “And getting myself into trouble more often than I like.”

“Little rascal.” I smile, eyeing his broad form up and down that is at odds with my playful joke.

“You come here often?” He asks, then grimaces. “Wait. No. That sounded–”

“Like a bad pickup line?” My brow raises on its own.

“Yeah.”

“It was.” I beam up at him.

“Noted.” He mutters with a smirk and brushes a strand of hair behind his ear as if he’s nervous now. It's like he’s… flustered. Making him feel uncomfortable is the last thing in my mind.

“I like it here,” I say after a moment. “ It's quiet. There are no rules, no one that tells you what to do. Just the calm of the night…” I trail off.

He takes a deep breath like he inhales me. “Yeah,” he agrees. “No masks in the dark.”

“What are you doing when you’re in the daylight?” A clever question of him.

I always kept that out of the conversations with people I didn't know. To pull dishonor over the heads of my family is not what I want to achieve. But what am I going to tell him? Keeping the vast archives in our mansion intact doesn't sound too glamorous. Neither does relentlessly studying old scripts of magic, diplomacy and lore between the dusty books that are on the verge of falling apart. Assisting my mother with her spells and handing her ingredients while she performs her casts would also reveal too much.

My shoulders turn in from the shyness and my hands glide in my pockets as if they could hide the truth that he shall not see. I have felt those cards more than a thousand times in my hand – I’m surprised they hadn't fallen to rubble until now. An idea sparks in my mind.

“Would you like to see a card trick?” I ask coyly my hand firm around the thick stack of paper.

Silence stretches between us but it's not uncomfortable. Is that puzzlement in his expression? He takes a step closer, his thighs leaning into the stone like he wants to shove it out of his way. The clouds are pushed away by the high winds and the night shines upon us.

“You always carry cards in your pocket, or just when you’re feeling mysterious in the moonlight?”

His mockery question hits its mark and my heart splits in two. I hold onto the cards like they could keep me upright. They were my companions in sleepless nights, when the pressure of my family’s name screamed too loud. I’ve welcomed them as my friend when I was a kid and allowed me to have a small piece of magic. Even when it wasn't real.

“They help.” I answer defensively. Somehow I can't hide disappointment in my voice. As a Hollowblood I’m no good for my family. Not good enough for anyone.

His brows furrow and he leans in before he lowers his voice. “With what?”

His baritone pulls my eyes to his again. “Existing,” I say simply. I’ve revealed too much already. My hand loosens and the cards glide from my hands. It was a dumb idea to suggest showing him the talents I’ve practiced over and over for years. I should go.

“Show me.” He grins at me before sitting down with half of his weight on the stone. Curious. Open. And he looks at me like I hung the stars in the sky. 

My heart skips a beat and a smile tugs at the corners of my lips. I dig into my pocket to pull out the deck and shuffle it in my fingers like I did a thousand times before. His eyes catch the fluidity as my hands move with grace. Something about him is so inviting, that I sit beside him, our shoulders brush and instead of leaning the other way, he stays just like that. 

“Pick a card.”

He smirks and his hand flies over the cards as if it was the hardest decision in his life. “Any card?”

It was so easy for him to draw a giggle from me. “Literally how the trick works, yes.”

His grin pulls my eyes to his face. Some scars part his tanned skin and his smell is enticing, woody and earth with hints of leather and freshly fallen snow. I could feel the pace of my heart setting at a low tempo that I’ve only ever found when I was minutes away from sleep. Now I can see that his eyes have the most beautiful shade of hazel I’ve ever seen. Then, there are his lips, pouty but in a manly way curled around perfect straight teeth. Sharp canines stretched the corners.

My lashes feathered on the top of my cheeks, I froze all over again. “What are you?” the words rush out of my mouth without thinking.

He ignores my stupid question that’s laced with panic and grins as he selects a card, deep in his thoughts. “I’m yours, sweetheart.” His eyes lock with mine as his fingers brush my small ones.

I’m hypnotized by the stunning orbs. The way the words tumble out of his mouth with such ease that the incoming panic attack eddies away and the flight instinct is something from the past. I can't even begin to describe what he does to me. But somehow I – trust him.

His gaze shifts to the card and spies at it before pressing it to his heart. Then she pushes it back into the deck. I pull them into a neat stack and make a few practiced cuts before tapping the top. 

“I know that this is not your card.” I turn the first one over. He watches me with amusement and I go on.

“But I know that this is your’s.” I tell him and hold up the King of Spades.

He blinks. Then grins again. “Okay, that’s actually impressive.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.”

“How did you do that?” He asks with wonder in his voice as he takes back his card and turns it over, inspecting it as if he suspects that I had marked it somehow.

I steal it back with a chuckle and push it back into the deck. “Magic.” I chime and look up at him, finding his eyes already on mine. 

The world around us slows until time freezes. He’s closer than before but I’m not afraid. The air he breathes out fans over my heated cheeks and all of his is calling for me. His eyes dip to my lips and back to my eyes but he’s not daring to come any closer, giving me the choice to taste him. My heart nearly springs out of my chest and my pulse pounces against my skin. The temptation becomes too great. Something about him is captivating all my senses and I lift my chin until our lips are mere inches away from each others.

My eyes flutter shut and his breath hitches. 

Just one taste.

Just one kiss.

The only word that rushes through my mind is that what is happening between us is more than magic. Like the Cauldron placed both of us right here tonight. Like we’re meant to be. 

A low rumble that comes deep from his throat ripples over my skin like a reward for the closeness.

Just one.

My nose grazes his and I already feel like I’m melting into him as I hear the faint bell of the church’s tower three times. I’m too late. 

I shriek back and stumble backwards, almost tripping over my long dress that’s caught by the edge of the stone, the fabric screeching as it's ripped. His hand shoots out with supernatural precision to stabilize me but I’m out of his reach already.

“I’m sorry. I didn't mean to–” He stammers with a furrow full of hurt.

“N-no. It’s not you.” I free my dress and retreat a couple of steps as panic surges through me.

He stands up in a swift motion, rounds the stone and catches my hand before I can pull away. I’m defenseless against his gentle grip as I try to tug my hand from his. “I have to go.” I whine defeatedly while my eyes are on our joined hands, not daring to look into his eyes, like I would fall right back into his arms if I did. 

“Why?” He asks in a soft tone, like his heart yearns for mine. 

“My family cannot know that I’ve been gone longer than three. They’ll know. They’ll find out that I was in the woods.” My breath quickens and my free hand comes around my throat like it could prevent me from hyperventilating.

His hold on me is still gentle but firm as he steps closer, invading the aching space between us. “Let me at least walk you home. I want you to be safe.”

My eyes finally lock with his and I can tell he sees the panic that rides my soul. His offer is honest like he’s seriously concerned about my wellbeing, even after knowing me for just that short amount of time. 

“N-no. You cannot come with me. I have to return alone. Please, let me go.” I whine and softly tug again, even if I could bath in his warmth forever.

“Okay!” He says nervously, inhales deeply and breathes. “Okay.” His touch is lighter now but still there. He goes down on one knee, takes my hand in both of his and kisses my knuckles softly, his stubble grazing and pebbling the skin on my body. “When will I see you again?” He looks up at me with round eyes like he laid his heart open for me to sting a dagger through it. Vulnerable.

My eyes dart between his as if they could make sense out of our situation. “I…” I stammer but before I can neglect his question other words tumble out of my mouth. There is a yearning for him that I cannot let die tonight. “Next Sunday. Same time.”

“Promise?” He asks and his thumb draws a slow circle on my hand as if he has to assure himself that he’s not dreaming.

“Promise.” I tell him with a feathery voice.

A small smile that lights up his eyes plays on his face. “I’ll see you next Sunday. Come home safe, sweetheart.”

He kisses my hand for the final time. “See you soon.” I answer and my fingers slide out of his before I start to run through the woods and back to the entrance of the cave. 

The feeling that someone, something is watching me has my mind in a chokehold. But I tell myself that it’s just my nerves that jump to the conclusion that a set of red gleaming eyes is right behind me. Following me. Hunting me.  

I rush through the invisible veil that protects the entry way and I run through the darkness until I reach the heavy wooden door. 

[PART TWO]

tags @donnadiddadog @sophieliz

Then I see her face. Tears streak her cheeks and her lips are parted on gasping sobs. Her hands are desperately pulling at the steel trap that’s keeping the wolf shackled in place, ignoring the irony red that cuts her skin and pools beneath both of them. But it's not moving. Not even an inch. 

“Hold on, please – stop fighting me – I’m trying to help!” she begs it with a cracking voice while her fingers tremble like shattered glass. The wolf howls for help, high pitched and leaking of hope.

“YN!” I drop to my knees beside her, my hands gripping her shoulders and turning her around. She’s shaking so violently it rattles my bones. Her pupils are blown and flashing in every direction. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

Her silver lined eyes lift, wild and panicked, barely seeing me. She’s gasping too hard to form words and the wolf growls out again in pain. She flinches at the desperate sound and I take her face in my palms. “It’s all right,” I say, forcing calm into the storm. “You’re safe.” I say it more to myself than to her. “I’ve got you. Breath for me – just breathe.” 

She’s sobbing as she scratches my hands to force them away. “He’s dying, Cassian! I can’t– he’s going to die–”

“No,” I say fiercely, losing the grip on her face and turning away from her to claw at the steel biting the wolf's leg. “Not on my watch.”

Footsteps thunder behind us. Two peaceguards crashing into the clearing. I hear them swearing and approaching us quickly.

I pump my muscles and my hackles rise as I push on the trap with steady hands. The sharp metal splits my skin as I give it a final push and wrench the mechanism apart. The trap screams open and the wolf staggers free, collapsing into the dirt before slowly shifting. Fur rips and bones snap back into place until a man lays gasping and bloodied where the beast had been, his arm infected with black ichor that seems to be crawling over his skin. The two other peaceguards are on his side in seconds and soothe the injured man, inspecting his torn arm and stopping the bleeding.

YN shrieks back and a choking sob tears from her throat. She eyes the man like she can’t believe what just happened. Her hands shake uncontrollably while she stares at the blood smearings all over them. “He– he’s a werewolf! I just – I just wanted to help,” she whispers over and as if she’s searching to erase the horror. “I just wanted to help.”

My thinking stops and I just wrap her in my arms, holding her tight against my chest. Her trembling is so violent that I fear she might break into a thousand pieces while her breathing becomes ragged from the hyperventilation.

“Shh.” I press my lips to her hair and draw calming circles with my thumbs. I don’t really know what else to do but soothe her, so I keep her in my arms. The need to lick her wounds clean, like a mate would do it is so strong that I almost combust. But doing that with her would go too far even if it would heal her faster. Also, it's very inappropriate to do that with other people around. It’s too intimate. She cries into my chest as fury starts to boil low and dark in my gut. It’s not directed at her, but at whoever set this godsdamed trap – at whoever had made her cry and brought her into the danger of being snapped in half by the pain-fueled wolf. “You did everything right. Do you hear me? Everything.”

Her fists twist into my shirt desperately. She shakes her head no. “I couldn't save him– If I hadn't looked at the person who ran away I could have warned him.”

I freeze at her words as I put the puzzle pieces together. She saw someone leave. Probably the person who set the trap. If that person was near enough that she saw them, there is a good chance that they saw her, too. My head shoots up and scans the surroundings but there is nobody to be seen. The woods are quiet, only the man’s lamenting echoing off the trees.

She chokes on a sob. She has to calm down. “You saved him, YN.” I say but my voice is thick with wrath. “If not for you, he’d already be dead.” 

“What are we going to do, lieutenant?” one of my men asks as they are finally able to stop the bleeding.

“Dig that trap out, it’s evidence. Take him to the station. Bring him to the infirmary, Madja is there to take a look at him.” I order sharply.

“Yes, sir.” They say in unison and one shifts his hand to a claw, finally ripping the trap out of its hinges. Why wasn't the wolf able to pluck it out? Wolves have an otherworldly strength, it should have been easy for him even if he was injured. I store the information in the back of my head. They help him up to steady him at each side and begin to walk into the night towards the moongate.

I stand up, lifting her effortlessly into my arms. She’s so small and fragile, still gasping but she tries to take longer breaths. I hold her close, my protective instinct clicking in fully. As long as she’s with me no one can harm her.

“I need to go home,” she whispers hoarsely like a river that has dried out.

“Not tonight.” I tell her as an absolute and hope she doesn't notice my shaky voice from the shock that settled inside of me. I could have lost her. “This is a crime scene. And you–” I glance down at her pale, broken face, “you’re a witness. You’re coming with me.” I leave no room for discussion as I pick up my pace to get her out of here as fast as I can.

Her eyes flutter shut, the adrenaline is slowly leaving her body. She must be exhausted and a tear slides down her cheek as she mumbles against my chest. “I tried to help.”

I grind my teeth and my arms tighten around her. “I know, sweetheart.” I say those words calmly but rage burns in my chest. Because this wasn't just cruelty. This was a message.

And whoever is behind it has just made it personal.

YN

The overhead light in the interrogation room buzzes like the hum of aggravated wasps. I’m sitting at the table while my palms are cold with sweat as another peaceguard fields behind Cassian. One has a star on his chest and tired but kind eyes, Cassian called him captain before. 

My gaze is fixated on the steaming cup of tea that Cassian brought me. I pull the blanket he provided tighter around my shivering body.

The captain takes the chair beside Cassian and opens a folder with blank pages. “So.” He opens his ink pen. “You say you found a wolf in the trap?”

“Yes, sir.” I murmur, my voice lacking power. “I tried to release it.”

“Tell me what exactly happened.” he orders firmly.

I shift in my seat and the blanket falls open as I place my hands on the table – there is still blood left under my fingernails even though I washed them thoroughly. My heart rate picks up. “I was on my way back home when I heard the rustling of footsteps not far from me. Usually the forest is very calm but the footsteps were very loud. There was this figure, hurrying away.” I lift my eyes to look into his. “A person, cloaked in dark grey or black.”

“Was it dark grey or black?” He presses.

Cassian sighs and his eyes darken as he speaks to his captain. “It was dark! How was she supposed to see clearly?” He snaps. I don’t have the eyesight of a wolf in the twilight…

The captain squares his shoulders and his head shoots to Cassian. “I wasn't asking you, lieutenant.” He growls at Cassian with a dismissive look that seems to order him to stay out of this.

I duck my head but give Cassian a faint smile of thankfulness just before I look at the captain again. “I’m sorry, I’m just human, I cannot tell for sure which it was.” I say calmly to defuse the situation.

“Go on.”

“As the person vanished, I saw something metal-like gleaming on the ground. It was the trap. Then I heard the growl of a wolf and froze in my spot. I thought that it would attack me, but it –he – sprinted towards the person. I wanted to yell to be careful, because there was something sharp on the ground but he was faster.”

I take a deep breath as the memories resurface and my eyes glaze over. “It was too late. I was too late. The trap snapped and he was caught in it. I ran towards him but he was thrashing so much. He was in so much pain and there was so much blood. I was afraid that he would snap at me, but I had to get him out. So, I kneeled down and tried to free him. But I wasn't strong enough. All the blood. I cried out for help, then Cas– the lieutenant, came to our rescue and pushed the trap open.”

He’s scribbling notes but then looks up at me. “You were very lucky that he was near.” The captain says with a provoking undertone, like Cassian wasn't supposed to be there tonight. “Tell me, what’s a human girl doing in the woods at night? They’re dangerous, you’re not allowed to be there.”

I shrink in my seat and my hands fall to my knees. I can't tell him the reason why I’m in the forest every sunday night. It would reveal too much and bring consequences to my family. Fuck. What will they think of me when they find out?

 But I cannot lie.

“I was there to meet someone.” I say shortly. It’s true. I was there to meet Cassian. I couldn't think about one other single thing for the whole week and I had to see him again. I thought I was safe when he was near…acutally I was. I don't want to think what would have happened if he hadn't come to my rescue.

“And who did you want to meet?” 

I don't answer, I just bite my lip to seal my mouth shut. 

The captain leans forward and folds his hands on the table. “Listen. To me, it looks like a pretty coincidence that you were there, just close enough to the trap. What if you set it on purpose to capture the wolf? What if you heard the lieutenant approaching and decided to play victim?”

Cassian scoffs, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms defensively. The captain shushes Cassian with a quick head shake while his gaze is focused on me.

Incomprehension boils inside of me and my head shoots up at him with a frown on my face. Did he not listen to what I just told him? His eyes are locked on me and I know I’m just as trapped as the wolf was mere hours ago. I want to reach inside my pockets to grab my cards, they usually help to calm me down. But I get the hopeless feeling that no matter how I play my cards now, I have a bad hand. I’ll lose.

“I was meeting lieutenant Cassian.” I say with a broken voice, trying to reset the shattered pieces into their places.

The captain’s brows rise and the pen screeches over the paper. “Why would you meet him there?”

I don't dare to look at Cassian, it would tell everything. My hands fold in my lap and my eyes water once more as I look up at the captain. “Because we’re friends.” I say, barely above a whisper.

The captain’s eyes quickly glance between me and Cassian but he must see the desperation in my face and he turns the page. “Fine, we’ll catch up later about that.”

“Thank you for your cooperation. I just need some information about yourself.” That is the part I dread. “Full name and place of residence, please.” He says and massages his temples.

My hands start to shake anew and I pull the blanket around me once more. Certainly they will send a letter to my parents. They have to collect me from here, because I’m still not of age. What am I supposed to say to them? They forbade me to go to the forest and they especially forbade me from meeting with strangers. They’ll lock me up at home for the rest of my life. I’ll be lonely for the rest of my life. It's the final nail to my coffin that is my life. I’ve failed my family. I’m the biggest mistake. I can’t be fixed. 

“Miss?” He presses.

I finally bring up the courage to glance at Cassian, who gives me a small, reassuring nod.

“YN.” I say defeatedly.

“Last name?” He snaps.

My heart beats so fast that I can hear it in my ears. There’s no escape.

The captain sucks in air as a knock on the door rips the tension in the room apart. A red headed man comes inside. My eyes go wide, emotions rushing through me, everything on him screams werewolf. There is this arrogant gleam in his face and all I want to do is flee. 

The man stares at me like I am his next meal. He licks his lips and looms in the doorway, the only way out of this room. My breathing becomes short and I can't look anywhere else, I’m frozen.

“What do you want, Eris?” Captain asks him sharply. His eyes stay on mine as he hands the captain another folder.

“This is Gerald's statement.” the man – Eris – answers coldly.

The captain opens it and quickly takes in the information before speaking to me again. “Madja said he’ll heal but it’ll take some time. He was very lucky you were there, some minutes longer and he would have lost his arm.”

I nod my head like I bow to the Cauldron and the twist in my heart eases for a moment. He’ll live. I did something good.

“Anything else?” The captain asks him dismissively.

“Yeah, there is someone who wants to see our little witness.” Eris’ tone is dangerous and mocking. I hear yelling voices from the corridor, like someone wants to push a hoard of guards out of their way.

But as I look up, Eris’ eyes are still on me, fixating me like I’m prey. A cold rush runs over my spine and fear settles in my bones once more. I’m shaking like a leaf in the storm. Eris grins and licks over his teeth as if he can smell my fear; it amuses him.

Cassian's chair screeches and he’s on his feet instantly, towering over Eris and shutting him up with a loud and deep, guttural growl that comes straight out of his chest, threatening the red head to step back, or else. The lieutenant pushes Cassian back forcefully but Cassian barely moves as if he’s rooted to the place. Eris takes a step back behind the wall and it’s like I can breathe again but suddenly–

My world spins. 

How could I be so blind? 

Cassian.

He’s a wolf.

I stare at him, his teeth bared at the intruder, bellowing to get out of his eyes while he pushes past the captain and shoves Eris as far away from me as possible. 

Everything makes sense now. My crush on him had fogged my judgement but I can see clearly at last. He’s dominant and wears this natural authority. He’s protective over me and I feel like he marked me as his territory by showing Eris the boundaries with his guarding physique. It’s like he’s acting with confidence on instinct while I freeze in the chaos…like he’s caring for me, because I am under his protection.

He’s the one my parents warned me about my whole life.

I should fear him. 

Eris’ footsteps are replaced by fast heels, clicking loudly against the hallway floor.

Cassian stands in the doorway like a guardian of the Cauldron, facing the corridor and the person that comes to a stand before him.

“I demand to see my daughter.”

I flinch at her sharp voice. Cauldron, no. Not here. Not now.

“Your dau–” Cassian's words die in his throat. He turns on his heels and his gaze locks on me. His wide hazel, usually so warm, so teasing had gone cold, putting two and two together. I can see it in his face. The recognition. The betrayal.

He knows. He knows who I am. He knows where I come from.

Heat crawls up my neck but not from shame, it’s terror. My stomach drops and I feel like vomiting. What’s going on in his head? Is he disgusted? Angry?

Of course he is. To him, I’m not the girl with card tricks anymore. I’m not the girl who kissed his cheek, who he made laugh in the dark woods. I’m just another witch’s daughter. Another name on a bloodline he’s been trained to hate. That’s how it has been for decades. Wolves and witches hating each other.

I want to speak but my throat feels as dry as a desert, letting the words die on my lips. I want to explain that I’m not like them. That I don't have magic, that I never fit in their world. That I never believed in the hatred that was carved into me since I could walk.

What if he doesn't care? What if it doesn't matter? What if I don't matter?

Because I had lied. I hadn’t told him who my family was, hadn’t told him what blood ran in my veins. What if that alone is enough for him to turn away?

I remember his jar tightening, the rage that he wore on his sleeve when he carried me from the woods, the fierce protectiveness. But that was before. Before he knew.

Does he hate me now? Does he wish he’d left me in that clearing… for the wolf to snap my neck?

I can't breathe and my chest aches at the thought. Guilt bites inside of me. How could I ever be so dumb and think I deserved a friend – someone like him on my side. I’m not more than a failure that doesn't deserve someone as good as him.

What if this is it? What if this is the moment I lose him…before I even had the chance to keep him?

But the worst part is that I already miss him.

Cassian

I have faced enemy lines, riots, beasts with teeth longer than I had. But nothing in this life had ever made my heart stop like the look on her face now. Fear. If of me or what she read on my face, while the image that I painted of us crumbles around me.

“I demand to see my daughter!” she whips with a high pitched voice and presses past me. My stomach is in knots. Daughter. Witch.

I look at the woman. Morgana Grimrose. Head of her coven and one of the most powerful witches out there. She’s sly and sharp and ruthless and nothing like her daughter. Or was this all a trap? Did YN play her role to perfection? But what would she get out of that? The broken girl I’ve found in the stone circle was genuine, I smelled no trace of a lie on her. Not like I can smell the eeriness on Morgana, moldy and unholy evaporates the witches every cell, it makes me want to vomit.

How the hell did Morgana even know that YN was here? We didn't even get YN’s last name to send a dove to her house, informing her parents to pick her up. Does she have a tracking spell on her daughter? Does she spy on her?

I measure her features with hatred but I’m not blind. I see which one’s YN inherited from her mother but enhanced them by the beauty of her own, it makes her look so different. She’s nothing like her mother. Not one kernel.

After all she brought up the courage to help the wolf she should have feared. She could have run but instead, she brought herself in danger. She has a good heart for helping the desperate creature without thinking twice. I’ve never seen someone act with so much compassion. She can’t be a fraud.

My captain is already on his feet, his voice low with warning. “This is an interrogation chamber. You can wait outside until—”

“Don’t forget the law,” her mother snaps, sweeping to YN’s side like she owns the room. Her eyes are as sharp as glass as they land only on me for a moment, before scrunching her nose and dismissing me entirely. The hand she puts on YN’s shoulder reminds me of claws – long spiked fingernails tinted in black and grabbing her daughter too harsh for my taste. I bite the inside of my cheek. The others miss her breathless whine at the pain from her mothers nails to her skin, but I don't. “She isn't even of age. You cannot question her without her legal guardian present. If you do, you’ll have the Council on your neck before dawn.”

My wolf-senses allow me to feel how the blood flows into the captain's face, but my eyes are solely locked on YN’s. She’s staring at me like the world around her just turned wholly dark. Like she thinks I hate her now. Cauldron I can hear her heart leaping with pain and it splits me open. Because even with the truth settling in – witch’s blood in her veins – I can't unsee her.

The girl with silver lined eyes; desperately, with trembling bloody hands on an iron trap, with a deck of cards always in her pocket. The girl who had kissed my cheek and painted my insides with warmth that I’ve never felt before.

She isn't her family. She isn't a witch, I can smell no trace of magic in her. She’s human. 

She’s YN.

And I’ll protect her even if it’ll coast me my rank, my pack, hell, even my life.

I set my face grave and my voice cuts though the rising argument. “She doesn’t need a parental guardian.” I say louder than anticipated.

The room stills. Morgana turns towards me slowly with venom in her eyes. “Excuse me?”

‘You heard me!’ I want to snap. I know how easily offended witches are, and that makes them dangerous –  their impulsiveness. But I straighten my spine, letting every ounce of alpha authority bleed into my stance. “She’s the crown witness in an active peaceguard investigation. That status exempts her from requiring parental presence during questioning.”

Her mother’s lips thin and rage boils in her. But she has to understand, and YN needs to hear it, too. “She saw something she wasn't supposed to see tonight.” Memories of YN flood my mind, how she sobbed and clung to my chest from the horrors she just witnessed. “That puts her in grave danger. Whoever is responsible for this situation may have seen her. That makes her a target.”

YN flinches at the word and it guts me. Fear blossoms in her chest again, I can smell it in the air and all I want to do is take her in my arms and tell her that everything's gonna be okay.  Still, my eyes never leave hers. “It’s my case. From this moment, she’s under my protection. I’ll be her guard at all times.”

The room thickens with silence.

Finally, her mother waves a hand in front of her nose like it would prevent her from breathing in poisonous gas. I’ve seen witches doing that repelling gesture since I was a pup – like they can't stand the smell of wolves. Then, she sneers. “If you insist on playing watchdog, then you can wait outside our home like a dirty stray. You will not cross our threshold.”

I clench my jaw at her tone. I know the law, too. Every muscle in me screams to argue, to defy her, to demand entry where I could really keep YN safe. But the law is set in stone. Even if I’m YN’s guard, I’m not necessarily allowed to take one step on someone else's land without their permission. My captain gives us a subtle nod, trying to ease the tension – this is a compromise.

So, I swallow my fury and my heated skin smoothes out. “Fine.” I say with gravel in my voice. “Outside, then. But she won’t be unguarded. Not for a second.”

My captain clears his throat, muttering about legalities and signing orders, but I barely hear him. My focus is solely on YN, still pale and shaken at the table, looking even smaller between the three of us. She looks at me like her heart is breaking, for her, for me, for us. Like she already thinks this is the end. 

I want to say that it isn't. That no matter what blood runs in her veins, she’s still the girl I found in the woods, the girl who I could tell about my burdens, who made me laugh when I thought I’d forgotten how.

But all I can do is hold her gaze and let her see the promise that’s burning there.

I won’t leave you. Not now. Not ever.

The captain is still muttering about the report that needs to be filled, Morgana is wringing her claws around YN’s wrist like a harpy that's abducting an innocent and flying it to her nest to feast. “Come. We’re done here.”

YN’s joints crack like she was frozen for a hundred years as her mother pulls her up from the chair. The presence of her parent shrinks her to the height of a doll that's thrown around. YN’s moving as if she’s in a dream, like the world had gone hollow around her.

It’s like a blade to the ribs. The moment Morgana jerks YN’s arm, dragging her along, the thinned veil holding my wolf at bay shreds. Heat surges through me and my hands curl into fists at my sides. I can feel the claws aching to tear through my skin. A low growl slips past my teeth, low and rumbling, impossible to disguise as anything human. I know that all three of them heard that but chose to ignore it. My vision tunnels. There’s no captain, no room, just YN’s wide eyes and her mother's unforgiving grip. The alpha inside of me roars, demanding to intervene, to do something. It’s seeking to tear her free and put her behind me where she belongs. Safe and untouchable. Just before my control frails I tell myself that that would be the least clever thing to do. It would jeopardize her as my crown witness, would put me in a bad light as her guard and herself in that situation. But I just can’t let her leave like that. I tighten the walls of the beast inside of me and stifle a ragged breath. 

I step forward, catching YN’s gaze and suddenly the world vanishes around us. Her eyes shimmer with silver fear. Do you hate me now? The question is plastered on her face.

It nearly breaks me and I frown. You’re still the girl from the woods. That hasn't changed. Not for me. I let the silent words emanate from my gaze and I hope she gets it.

Her trembling lips part as if she wants to say something, but can't. Morgana’s claw tightens on her arm, tugging her toward the corridor and down the hall. I don't dare to move, only holding her eyes until the last possible moment…until the door to the station closes behind them. 

The sound of the rippling door snaps me out of my stun and just then, I notice the captain right beside me. “We’ll talk about that tomorrow. Now get into your uniform and follow them. You have the night shift.” He says sternly and dismisses me.

My colleagues stare at me, at my bloodied shirt and hands, dark red cakes my neck where her hands laid around my shoulders as I walk down the halls to the changing rooms. Thoughts whirl in my mind. Whatever this has become – witches, humans, wolves – I’ll fight it. Because she’s mine now, even if she doesn't know that yet. And I’ll be damned before I let anyone or anything take her from me.

[PART TWO]

[PART FOUR]