18. Mutt

Black .

Everything was black. Empty, cold, excruciating—hurt-hurt-hurt.

It seared me from the inside out like wildfire injected directly in my veins, riotous and wicked, destined to leave nothing but ash and memories behind. Between the gaps in the bars on the window, pale moonlight slipped across my cell floor, creeping toward me. Extending its cool caress my way like it hadn't forsaken me. I howled, and that only made me hurt more. Because why—why had this happened? Why had my moon mother turned her back on me? It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, it wasn't?—

Black, nothing.

Nothing, nothing.

There was nothing but the wet slick slide of blood as my manacles caught in my fur. Matted, clotted, as tangled as my thoughts. I was forgetting something. I knew I was—but all I could feel was the painful ache in my belly. Cavernous, gaping, open.

Free.

I wanted to be free .

Hungry. I just—I needed. I needed to hunt.

Something familiar tickled at my senses. Something bright like oranges. Like summer days. It cried, mate-mate-mate, but it was faded and faint and the moon was so strong and I?—

Ah.

What was that?

Footsteps. Yes. Above me. The thud, thunk of feet across the floor.

There were others upstairs. I could hear them. Hear as they rustled and moved. Prey . Because everything with a pulse was prey. I could taste them already—the snap crunch of bone, the bite of coppery blood. The way their flesh would feel, parting beneath my teeth and claws.

Free, I needed free.

Needed to hunt and bite and kill .

The prey was so close.

So close. When I lifted my snout I could scent them on the air. One, two, three, four—yes, yes, yes. Food. Food. Hungry, hungry, hungry?—

And then…the scent teased me once more. Summers, laughter, mate-mate-mate. I howled again, tearing at the manacles, desperate to be free. I needed, I needed, I need-need-need-need?—

The prey spoke and it was sharp and panicked, the fearscent bright enough I could smell it from here. " You have to go. Right now. "

" Where's Mutt? Is he okay? " a distant voice echoed when I strained. It was hard when I was like this, my senses murky but sharp. The world flooded my mind with sensation so rapidly it was hard to process all at once. But I recognized the voice anyway. Because it was the only thing that felt right in all the world. Not the moon, not my fur, not the blood that seeped into the concrete floor. Old stains mixing with the new.

"He's gone. Home," that was the prey. "Now go. Please." That was the prey and it was wrong, wrong, wrong.

I just wanted—I just wanted the voice back. The sweet-summer-sun. The music. I huffed a few greedy breaths, trying to taste my mate even though I could hear him leaving. Hear the crackle of feet on gravel, hear the rumble of an engine driving away.

And there was only prey again.

Prey, prey, prey.

And what sanity I'd managed slipped away as quickly as it had come.

I needed free .

Needed out of these chains.

I was hungry, hungry, hungry. The prey was so close. So close. I could taste them already. Imagine the chase, the thunder of our feet, the fearscent that would only make their deaths more delicious.

They should be frightened.

Because I was Alpha.

It was all I was.

And they were nothing but food .

I'd fill my belly. I'd glut on them. Enjoy every last, slippery morsel. And then I'd hunt again. Again, again, again.

There was no pack. There was no moon. There was only the gnawing, aching gape of my empty stomach. There was only the jut of my cock. Only the phantom scent of mate-mate-mate, but it was wrong. It was wrong, because it wasn't wolf.

It wasn't wolf.

And I was…

I was hungry, hungry, hungry .

I needed—needed-needed.

And then I was…nothing.

Nothing at all.

And it was black all over again.