Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
DONOVAN/ DECLAN
DONOVAN
The scent of blood hit me first.
Thick, metallic, and far too fresh. It coated the air, sharp against the cold night, making my stomach twist.
The village was in chaos. Fires flickered through shattered windows, and bodies, some human, some shifting mid-form, were strewn across the dirt paths.
The scent of predator and prey clashed, filling the air with an unmistakable stench of violence.
And over it all, the sounds of battle raged. Shouts, screams, the guttural growls of the rabid vampires as they tore through the settlement.
We were already too late to stop the first wave.
But we could stop the next.
Declan was at my side, silent and coiled tight like a loaded spring. His eyes gleamed in the dim light, sharp as a blade’s edge, his fangs peeking from between his lips.
He was wound up, his hunger close to the surface, his body ready.
I could feel it rolling off him, his need to fight, to tear through the threat, to consume. But he was still Declan.
“Stay close,” I told him, low and firm.
A flicker of something passed through his gaze. Amusement? Maybe. Dark satisfaction? Definitely.
Then he moved.
And just like that, the battle swallowed us whole. Declan exploded into motion, vanishing into the chaos like a wraith.
One moment, he was at my side and the next, he was a blur of dark clothes and flashing fangs, launching himself at the nearest rabid vampire.
The creature barely had time to snarl before Declan ripped through it.
I saw it all in fragments, his hand snapping out, his knife slicing deep into flesh, the sickening crunch of bone as he tore into its throat.
It let out a wet, gurgling screech before collapsing, twitching, its blackened blood pooling at Declan’s feet.
And he didn’t stop.
He was fast. Faster than I’d ever seen him move.
A second rabid lunged from the side, shrieking. Declan pivoted sharply, dodging with almost inhuman ease.
His lips peeled back in a snarl, his fangs gleaming in the firelight as he struck, sinking his knife straight through the thing’s ribcage and pulling.
Dang. He was tearing through them like they were nothing.
Ruthless. Precise. Efficient.
But there was something else, too. Something dangerous curling at the edges of his movements. Hunger.
His strikes were brutal, but there was too much force behind them.
A need that went beyond just killing. Every vampire he cut down left his breaths heavier, his pupils darker, his stance more on edge.
I swore under my breath. I didn’t have time to drag him back from the ledge. Not yet. Not with the fight still raging around us.
I turned to the closest shifter, a man mid-shift with sharp, golden eyes and a bloodied arm. “Where’s the rest of your people?”
He jerked his chin toward the back of the village, where a cluster of sparrows were huddled near a collapsed structure, fending off another wave of attackers.
I bolted. A vampire lunged at me from the side, but I was faster, driving my knife into its throat before shoving it away.
I reached the group just as a rabid broke through their defensive line, its claws swiping for a young shifter barely old enough to fight.
I didn’t think. I just moved. I tackled the rabid from behind, driving it to the ground.
It screeched, twisting beneath me, jaws snapping. My blade was already moving before it could lunge again, slicing across its throat.
It twitched. Shuddered. Then stilled.
I pushed myself up, scanning the battlefield. The rabid vampires were thinning. The shifters were pushing back. My gaze snapped to Declan, and my stomach twisted.
He was still fighting. Still killing. But he was moving differently now. His shoulders were tense, his fangs bared. And his eyes were locked on the nearest body. Lust. Hunger.
I could see it crawling through him. The need, the temptation, the razor-thin edge between restraint and surrender.
I swore. We had to end this now. I surged forward, cutting through the last of the monsters with swift, brutal efficiency.
The remaining shifters followed suit, their shrill cries echoing as they drove the last of the creatures back into the forest. And just like that, the battle was over.
Panting, I turned back to Declan. He was still standing, still tense, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white.
Blood dripped from his fingers, his chest rising and falling in sharp, shallow breaths. I stepped toward him.
“Declan,” I began.
He didn’t look at me. I moved closer. Slowly. Carefully.
“Declan, its me,” I said.
His head snapped up, his gaze locking onto mine. And for a moment, for just a moment,I wasn’t sure which way this would go.
Then, finally, finally, his shoulders sagged. His fists loosened. And when he blinked a few times, I knew he was back.
Still on edge. Still aching with hunger. But he was Declan.
Lena hurried ahead, dropping to her knees beside the injured man. He was old. His dark, weathered skin lined with age and experience.
Blood streaked down the side of his face, a crude bandage wrapped around his leg.
His breathing was labored, but his eyes, sharp and assessing, tracked her every move as she spoke to him in a hushed, urgent tone.
From our spot beneath the trees, I watched the way his expression shifted. First wary, then confused, then finally accepting. I glanced at Declan.
He was watching too, silent and still, his jaw set in a way that told me exactly what he was thinking. I’m not doing the talking.
Fine. That was on me then. Lena helped the old man to his feet, supporting his weight as they made their way toward us.
His sharp eyes flicked between me and Declan, pausing a beat longer on Declan, who, despite his relaxed stance, still looked like something deadly waiting for an excuse to move.
“This is Elder Jonas,” Lena introduced, shifting slightly under the weight of his arm. “One of our leaders.”
“Elder Jonas,” I said with a nod. “Are you the alpha of your group?”
Jonas let out a low chuckle.
“Alpha?” He shook his head, amusement glinting in his tired gaze. “No, no. We are not like the wolves, the bears, or the great cats. Our people do not follow one sole leader. We have a council of elders, and together we guide our flock.”
Flock. Right. Sparrow shifters.
Jonas studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable.
Then, to my surprise, his face softened into something warm. “You have my deepest thanks, hunters. Without you, many more would have died tonight.”
He turned to Declan.
For a moment, Declan didn’t respond. He just stood there, still as a statue, his gaze locked on the old man’s.
Whatever passed between them in that moment, I couldn’t say, but after a beat, Declan gave the barest nod of acknowledgment.
That was the best we were going to get from him.
Jonas didn’t seem offended. In fact, his smile widened.
“Come,” he said, gesturing toward the village behind him. “Stay with us tonight. Rest. Our flock will want to thank you properly.”
A celebration.
I opened my mouth to politely decline, but before I could say anything, Jonas was already turning, leading Lena back toward the village.
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck.
“We could just leave,” Declan muttered beside me, voice low.
I shot him a look. “You want to tell the people you just saved that you’re too broody to stick around for dinner?”
He scoffed but didn’t argue.
Which meant he was coming.
I smirked. “That’s what I thought.”
He rolled his eyes but fell into step beside me as we followed Jonas and Lena into the heart of the village.
DECLAN
The village was alive with quiet resilience.
Despite the attack, despite the bodies burned at the edge of the clearing, the sparrow shifters moved about with a steady, practiced rhythm.
Some were tending to the wounded. Others cleaned up the wreckage, repairing what they could and salvaging what was still usable.
Children darted between the adults, their laughter subdued but not gone.
They weren’t broken.
I stood beside Donovan, arms crossed, watching the shifters go about their lives as if this wasn’t the first time they’d been hunted.
I turned to Elder Jonas, who had stayed close since we arrived. “They don’t seem afraid,” I observed. “Not like they should be.”
Jonas gave a small, knowing smile.
“Because we’ve learned fear is a waste of time.” He gestured to the flock, to the injured, to the homes being put back together. “This isn’t the first time we’ve been attacked, and I doubt it’ll be the last. But we don’t stop living.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, because he was right.
Lena approached then, waving someone over. “Come on, let me introduce you to some of my flock.”
Donovan smiled easily, already at home here, but I hesitated.
I could still feel the hunger simmering under my skin, quieter now but never gone.
The fight had burned through the worst of it, had given me something else to focus on. But I knew it wouldn’t last.
The moment things settled, it would return, clawing its way back to the surface, reminding me of exactly what I was now.
And these people, these sparrow shifters… they smelled warm. Alive.
They smelled like food. I exhaled sharply, shaking the thought loose as Donovan nudged my side, giving me a look.
“Just for tonight,” he murmured. “Relax.”
Relax. Right. Like it was that easy.
But the way he was looking at me, the warmth in his eyes, the quiet trust. I wanted to try. So I unclenched my fists, and followed Lena into the crowd.
The village hall was larger than I had anticipated, the wood of the walls warm and thick, a fortress against the cold night air.
Long tables stretched out in rows, set with hearty platters of food.
The smell of roasted meats, vegetables, and fresh-baked bread mixed with the faint, still-lingering scent of smoke from the earlier battle.
It was a stark contrast. The warmth of the hall against the coldness of what we had just fought through, yet these people continued their lives.
The atmosphere was strangely light for a group that had nearly been wiped out hours before.
Conversations hummed through the hall, punctuated by occasional laughter and the clinking of mugs.
The shifters, sparing a few who lingered near the wounded, ate with quiet reverence, their expressions solemn but not defeated.
The weight of the battle was there, but it was as if they refused to let it take their spirits.
It was unsettling to see how they could be so unaffected by the very real threat that had almost wiped them out, yet I had to admire them for it.
Lena led us toward the head of the hall, where the Elders sat in their simple but well-made chairs.
Their eyes turned as we approached, sharp and evaluating, yet none of them showed fear. Jonas stood first. He gestured for us to take seats next to him.
“Come, sit. You fought for us. You are welcome here,” Jonas said with a voice that rang with sincerity.
Donovan didn’t hesitate. He lowered himself into the seat beside me, looking comfortable, like he belonged.
I, on the other hand, stayed standing for a beat too long, my instincts screaming to keep my back to the wall, to stand on alert.
My gaze swept the room. There were too many unknowns, too many unfamiliar faces.
But I caught Donovan’s eye, and without a word, I let out a silent growl and lowered myself onto the bench beside him. I wasn’t going to argue with him here.
Platters of food were brought to the table. Meats, cheeses, hearty breads.
Donovan dug in without hesitation, but since I no longer needed to eat human food, I held back.
I needed to process more of this place, this strange little village that had taken in two strangers without a second thought. The mugs of warm cider came next.
It had a sweet, spicy scent to it, and I couldn’t resist taking a sip.
The heat spread through me quickly, the warmth a welcome distraction from the coldness that had settled deep inside me.
The shifters around us ate as if it were just another evening, but there was something different about their actions.
A kind of reverence in the way they moved, a deep gratitude for the simple act of being alive. As if they could still taste the bloodshed of the day.
Some of them glanced toward the injured, whose bandages were fresh and clean.
They seemed to silently acknowledge their loss, but there were no tears. No panic. Just acceptance.
One of the Elders, a woman with streaks of silver in her dark hair, leaned forward. “You two are skilled warriors,” she said, a thread of respect in her tone.
“We’ve been doing this for a long time,” I said.
The words were automatic. Too many times I’d said them.
Jonas nodded, his expression solemn. “It shows. Which is why we’d like to make an offer.”
I could feel my grip tighten on my mug, the warmth suddenly feeling too hot against my skin. I didn’t like where this was heading.
My muscles stiffened, but I didn’t let it show.
Donovan’s body language was the opposite. He was leaning forward now, curiosity alight in his eyes. Hopeful.
“We need protectors,” Jonas continued, his voice low, but clear. “Defenders. Our flock has never been strong in battle. We’ve relied on our numbers, on our speed, on our ability to avoid the fights we couldn’t win. But these attacks… they’re becoming more frequent. We need people like you.”
I could feel Donovan's posture shift beside me. He was practically vibrating with eagerness. He wanted this. He wanted to help. But I?
I felt nothing but the cold grasp of wariness tightening around me. I could hear the ticking of a clock somewhere, its seconds dragging by.
The Guild would be looking for Donovan soon. For both of us.
And staying here, taking on a job as a protector for some village of peaceful shifters? It would be a mistake.
The longer we stayed, the worse it would be.
Jonas must have sensed the hesitation in my silence. His next words were softer, almost coaxing. “You’d have a home here,” he said.
I almost laughed at the absurdity of it. There was no safety for me, not anymore. Not since I became a monster. I wasn’t looking for a place to belong.
I was looking for a way to keep moving, to survive another day.
But Donovan’s gaze shifted toward me. He wasn’t asking me to accept their offer right away. He wasn’t asking for much.
But the way he looked at me, the way he silently communicated everything without saying a word, told me what he was thinking.
He wanted this. His shoulders were relaxed, and I could see the hope in his eyes. I could see him imagining a future here, imagining peace after all the chaos.
I clenched my jaw, pushing the words down, fighting the urge to tell him it was too dangerous. Too reckless. I opened my mouth to speak but found I had nothing to say.
Instead, I just picked up my mug, pretending to take another long drink, my mind still reeling with the weight of the decision hanging in the air between us.