Page 24 of Cursed Alien
Sleep claimed him soon after, pulling him down into dreams long denied.
He stood in the grand hall of his keep, but it was different—pristine, filled with light and music. Vultor nobles in their finest garments danced and conversed, goblets of wine in hand. He was in his humanoid form, dressed in ceremonial robes of deep green with silver embroidery.
Before him stood Tarek, his eldest advisor, his expression grave beneath his silver-streaked fur.
“My lord, you must reconsider,” Tarek urged. “The curse of the unmated is no mere superstition. It has claimed many of our kind.”
He waved a dismissive hand, irritation flaring. “Old wives’ tales to frighten cubs into making hasty matches. I am no green youth to be swayed by such nonsense.”
“The evidence is there for those with eyes to see,” Tarek persisted. “Those who reach maturity and refuse to bond grow increasingly unstable. The beast side strengthens while the rational mind weakens. Eventually, nothing remains but the beast.”
“Then I shall be the exception,” he replied coldly. “I have no intention of binding myself to a female who seeks only my position and wealth. When I find one worthy of being my mate, I will consider it. Until then, I will hear no more of this curse.”
Tarek’s eyes flashed with frustration. “My lord, the signs are already present. Your temper grows shorter, your control more tenuous. The beast stirs more frequently now.”
“Enough!” he roared, feeling his fangs lengthen as rage surged through him. The familiar heat of transformation prickled along his spine, and he fought to contain it.
Tarek took a step back, his ears flattening in submission, but his eyes remained resolute. “As you command, my lord. But remember my words when the beast begins to take control.”
“I am Malrik of House Vantar,” he declared arrogantly. “My will is stronger than any supposed curse. I will bond when I find a worthy mate, not before. Now enough of this. The celebration awaits.”
He turned away, dismissing both the advisor and his warnings. But as he moved through the crowd, the lights began to dim. The music became discordant. The guests’ faces blurred, their features melting away until only their glowing eyes remained, all fixed accusingly on him.
Pain lanced through his body. He doubled over, gasping, as his bones began to crack and reshape themselves. Fur sprouted from his skin. His hands twisted into claws. He’d transformed before, but it had never been like this.
“The curse finds you,” a chorus of voices intoned. “As it finds all who refuse a mate.”
He tried to deny it, to fight the transformation, but the beast was too strong. It consumed him, shredding his rational mind, leaving only hunger and rage and loneliness. Endless loneliness.
Then, through the darkness, a scent. Sweet, unfamiliar, compelling. Human. A flash of blonde curls. Hazel eyes that showed no fear.
Bella.
The beast stilled. Listened. Something long dormant stirred within it.
Hope.
He jerked awake, a soft whine escaping his throat. The dream clung to him, more vivid and coherent than any he’d experienced since his transformation. Was it memory or merely his fractured mind attempting to make sense of his condition?
He didn’t know. But as he looked down at the small human female sleeping peacefully in his arms, he felt certain of one thing: she was important. Her presence was changing him, awakening parts of himself he’d thought lost forever.
She stirred slightly in her sleep, murmuring something unintelligible. Without thinking, he stroked her hair, his claws retracting to allow the gentle touch. She sighed and nestled closer to his warmth.
Mine, the beast insisted.
Not yet, his rational side countered.Perhaps never. She is human. Free. Not bound by our ways.
But as moonlight shone through the windows, illuminating her peaceful face, both sides of his nature agreed on one thing: whatever happened next, he would protect her. From others, from himself if necessary.
Even if it meant eventually letting her go.
CHAPTER12
Bella woke gradually, enveloped in unexpected warmth. She’d spent enough nights in her father’s drafty workshop to appreciate good heat, and this was luxurious—like being wrapped in a living furnace. She sighed contentedly before her eyes snapped open as memory returned.
The keep. The beast.Malrik.
She lay perfectly still, taking inventory of her situation. One massive arm was draped over her waist, heavy but not crushing. His chest pressed against her back, rising and falling with deep, even breaths. The robe she wore had twisted during the night, bunching uncomfortably at her waist.
