CONFLICTED
Nyx
Nyx runs.
The forest is hers again. In her eyes, everything’s sharp and clear. Her ears pick every rustle, every snap, every beat in the air. The earth under her paws is cold and musky, the air in her lungs whole and fresh.
She’s alive again.
There was nothing she hated more than that corner she’d been forced into. Her spirit was broken, her mind poisoned by that wretched herb. She couldn’t reach her human, couldn’t guide her. All she could do was watch helplessly as her human was humiliated. Now she’s free. And powerful.
The scent of prey cuts through the night.
A hare bolts from the underbrush. Its pacing heart immediately wets her mouth.
Nyx lunges, muscles coiling, body flowing like water over stone.
Teeth snap. Blood fills her mouth, hot and rich.
She drops the kill after a single bite, because she’s not hungry—she’s only proving she still can.
She howls at the moon, calling to the Moon Goddess before leaving the body for the scavengers.
Deeper she runs, until the gurgle of water calls her. She slows near a stream, paws sinking into cool mud. The water sparkles silver under the moonlight. Nyx lowers her muzzle, drinks deep, tongue lapping the coldness, letting it steady the fire in her veins.
Suddenly, something tugs at her. A pull, deep in her marrow. The bond.
Her ears prick, body stiffening. She knows that presence. Him.
Her lips peel back in a snarl. Her mate. The Alpha who caged her human, who let another woman steal her children. The one she should belong to—but doesn’t.
Branches snap. Wind shifts. And then she sees him.
Emris.
Towering, black-furred, a shadow that blots out the moonlight. His coat ripples with power; his eyes burn with golden red fire. Alpha, through and through. Her mate.
Nyx growls, fur bristling. Why does he move closer now? When Freya, her human, has bled and starved under his neglect?
Emris steps forward.
Nyx snarls again, snapping her jaws, daring him to command her. She waits for the weight of the Alpha’s will, the order to kneel, to bare her throat. It never comes.
Instead, Emris lowers his massive head and brushes his muzzle against hers in a soft touch. A nuzzle? It’s gentle when she expects chains.
Nyx freezes, torn. Awe flickers in her chest, unbidden, unwanted. For one heartbeat, she does not move. Then rage rises hotter than wonder. She snaps her jaws again, teeth clashing inches from his fur. She will not soften. She will not yield.
With another snarl, she spins and bolts into the forest, leaving him behind in shadow.
But his scent lingers, carried by the wind, and it burns her as fiercely as it binds her.