Chapter 59: my mate the monster
Vivian Grey’s POV
His voice, Zaliver’s voice, reverberated inside my head, but it was different now. Rougher. Feral. Unforgiving.
I screamed, but I didn’t stop. I ran harder, faster, toward where I thought the car was. He’d left the door open. The keys had still been in the ignition. I had to find it.
But the trees all looked the same now, dark and endless. My direction was off. I must’ve veered from the path.
Terror clawed at me.
Fine, run. This will be fun.
His voice slithered through my mind again, smug and amused. I twisted my head to glance around, but all I saw was shadow. His fur was pitch black, he could be inches away and I wouldn’t know.
I leapt over a fallen log, ducked under a branch that almost clotheslined me, stumbled on a root and barely caught myself. My lungs burned, and my ears strained desperately for the sound of his footsteps, his breath, anything.
You’re fast. But I’m faster.
Something whooshed past me like a gust of wind, and in that instant, I saw it, a hulking blur. A massive figure darting through the trees ahead. I gasped and skidded to a stop, spinning on my heel to run in the opposite direction.
"Oh gods," I breathed out.
Just imagine how fast you’ll be when you transform.
We’ll be able to run together. Forever.
Just give in, Vivian.
His voice was softer now. Smooth. Enticing. Almost seductive.
It made my stomach twist.
"No!" I yelled, the sound ripping from my throat.
I ducked behind a thick tree trunk, pressing my back to the bark as I tried to quiet my frantic breathing. My chest heaved. I clamped a hand over my mouth, forcing myself to slow down, to breathe through my nose in thin, careful, silent streams. I closed my eyes and prayed to the Moon Goddess, or anyone who was listening, that he’d lose the thread of my scent in the dark.
Please. Just give me a moment. Just one.
Silence.
Total, terrifying silence.
And then, scrape.
The horrible sound of claws dragging down the bark behind me made my blood run cold.
I bolted again, shoving off the tree and sprinting blindly. I couldn’t help myself, I glanced back.
And I wished I hadn’t.
A massive figure stood upright just behind me, one clawed hand still resting on the bark. His black eyes gleamed in the darkness like polished onyx. He was watching me. Hunting me.
My mate. The monster.
He crouched low in the shadows, massive and still, his black fur blending almost perfectly into the darkness. Only his eyes, two eerie, glinting black mirrors, gave him away. They gleamed with an unnatural light, reflecting the faintest sliver of moonlight that filtered through the trees. I watched a puff of mist curl from his snout with every slow, deliberate breath he took, and my lungs tightened in response.
I held my breath, praying to the Moon Goddess that he wouldn’t move, wouldn’t step closer.
But he did.
He began to rise slowly, deliberately, until he towered above everything. Then one clawed foot slid forward, crunching softly over the forest floor, followed by the other. Each step echoed like a countdown in my head, a steady march toward my undoing.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to run. But I couldn’t.
My legs wouldn’t obey. My body had shut down, every muscle frozen in shock and sheer exhaustion, and some primal part of my brain had simply stopped cooperating with the rest of me. I told my feet to move, screamed at them internally with everything I had, and they stayed exactly where they were. I had thought werewolves were the pinnacle of power. I was wrong. Zaliver, whatever he was, was something more. Something beyond. He moved through the forest like a phantom, silent, untraceable, and so impossibly fast that I never once saw him coming. I hadn’t sensed him until he was already right behind me. He was something far greater than a werewolf, something ancient and terrifying and real.
And he was mine.
The closer he drew, the harder my heart pounded, hammering painfully in my chest. I was drowning in fear. Drowning in him.
"Stop. Please," I whimpered, my voice barely audible through the tightness in my throat. I wanted to look away, to block out the sight of him, but I couldn’t. Even in that monstrous form, he was heartbreakingly beautiful. Terrifying, yes. But there was still him in there. Zaliver.
He stopped. But he didn’t back away.
I don’t want you to hate me, Vivian, his voice whispered through my mind. But I’m going to mark you now.
My blood turned to ice.
He began moving again, slow and steady, like a predator closing in on prey. I squeezed my eyes shut, trembling all over. I couldn’t bear to look at him. The heat radiating from his body hit my face, scorching and suffocating. Just thinking about what he looked like, those massive fangs, that sharp snout inching toward my skin, sent me spiraling into panic.
"W-Wait!" I choked out, my voice breaking under the weight of everything I felt.
He stopped again.
"If you’re going to do it, c-change back. Please," I sobbed. "I-I can’t. Not like this. I can’t handle it. Please."
I didn’t dare open my eyes. I just stood there, begging into the darkness, knowing the beast, my mate, before me could tear me apart or claim me forever. Either felt equally terrifying. Either felt equally possible. And the worst part was that I wasn’t sure anymore which one I feared more, or which one some quiet, broken part of me was silently hoping for.
Silence hung between us, thick and unbearable, until the crack of bone and sinew finally filled the air. The sound was awful, but this time, I welcomed it. I sucked in a shuddering breath, air finally reaching my lungs again.
But the moment relief washed through me, a hand reached out toward my face.
I didn’t move. I didn’t open my eyes. I just stood there in the dark, heart still hammering hard against my ribs, tears drying cold on my cheeks, and waited to find out which version of him had come back to me.