Chapter 9 Freckles
FRECKLES
Andrik-
Her small hand is in mine. One wrong move, and I would crush it. I promised myself I wouldn’t touch her again, but I needed to feel her.
My thumb brushes lightly over her knuckles; her eyes flick between our joined hands and my face. I can’t sense what she feels; it’s like a tangled ball of yarn.
Humans don’t feel the bond like we do. It takes longer. What roars like a fire through me is nothing more than a flicker of kindling to her.
At least, that’s how it works with other monsters. No Rhavari has ever bonded to a human before.
How do I tell her that even though we’ve just met, she belongs to me?
Her hand flexes, and my grip tightens instinctively. She probably hates that I’m touching her.
“I’ll let go if you want me to.”
She makes no move to pull away from me, and the silence wraps around me like salvation.
For once in my life, I feel like more than just a monster.
She’s so close I can count the freckles across her nose.
I force myself not squeeze too hard. I’ve killed with less pressure than I’m using to hold her hand right now.
The longer I stare, the tighter the bond winds around my soul—and every second it goes unanswered, the more feral I’ll become.
I’ve watched Rhavari burn from the inside out when the bond is left unclaimed. It’s the only true way for us to die.
I don’t even know if we’re physically compatible. Can a human survive what I am?
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she questions, pulling me from my spiral.
“I’m sorry,” I cough. “I didn’t realize I was staring.”
A lie.
I was probably looking at her like I wanted to eat her. I do.
My mind flashes to the ancient ways—pressing her into the snow, fangs at her throat, claiming her where the forest can bear witness.
“Earth to Andri.”
I shudder at the nickname, but then convince myself she probably just can’t remember what my name actually is.
“Yes?”
“Are you super hungry or something? You’re drooling.”
My jaw flexes. I wipe the corner of my mouth. No drool. Yet.
“I’m not hungry,” I mumble. “Just distracted.”
She shrugs. “It’s probably because I’m here, throwing you off your routine. I feel fine, so if you need to leave and do anything, you can go.”
She says it so casually, while I’m fighting just to get words out right.
“It’s really beautiful out there,” she says, staring out the window. “You must love living out here. It’s so quiet and peaceful.”
I can’t take my eyes off her.
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
Even in a forest designed by gods, she is the most striking thing to ever walk through it.
“Okay, seriously. What is going on? You’re breathing super hard, big guy.”
I hesitate. Do I tell her about the bond, or do I joke it off? Because once I do, I can never take it back. And then it has the power to destroy me.
“You wouldn’t believe me.”
She tilts her head, “Try me.”
My lips part—
We’re soulmates,
I felt you before I saw you,
I can hear your heartbeat across the room,
Your scent speaks louder to me than anything ever has.
“... Have you ever heard of the Rhavari?”
Her brows knit together. “Like the folklore thing? Monsters in the woods?”
I nod. Technically, it’s not a lie. I am a monster in the woods.
“Everyone says we’re monsters,” I continue. “Born from winter storms with ice running through our veins—”
“Is that what you are? A Rhavari?”
“I am. But don’t believe all the rumors. Most of them are made up, like—”
“Krampus?” she shouts excitedly.
“Do you think Krampus is made up?” I force back a smile.
Her eyes widen. “Shut up. You’re totally pulling my leg.”
“I’m doing no such thing. Krampus is real. He’s been in my forest.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“I can show you sometime.”
“I’ll take a rain check, but I appreciate the offer.”
She drops my hand and walks toward the hearth. Her scent lingers in the air, curling into my throat.
“Do you have a shower here?” She asks.
I stiffen.
The thought of her in my shower… naked, with hot water sliding down her skin—
“I do,” I manage. “I should have offered when you woke up, but there were other things on my mind.”
She smirks, and my brain stutters.
You are an ancient beast made of cold and restraint, I remind myself. The restraint doesn’t last long. I think about fog clinging to the shower doors. Her naked body just on the other side. Stepping in behind her and—
Nai’thar veskae. Stop thinking like that.
“Other things, huh?” her voice rings out.
My voice comes out raw. “You should shower. There are fresh towels under the sink. I’ll wait out here for you.”
“I don’t even know where the shower is,” she laughs.
Right. How would she?
“Let me show you,” I murmur. “This storm's a bad one; you’ll probably have to stay a few days. At least.”
I lead her down the hall, careful not to let my hand brush hers. The massive cabin feels claustrophobic with everything I’m holding back.
“It’s just in here.” I push the bathroom door open. “There’s soap in the shower; I hope you like cloves.”
I start to back away.
“The water heats super fast, so be careful.”
She steps past me. Her scent makes my nostrils flare.
Kynval narh veskael. (Not yet.)
She pauses before closing the door.
“Thank you, Andrik,” she murmurs. Her voice lacks its usual rage or humor.
I nod and back away like a coward.
“Take your time,” I mumble. “I’ll be in the living room.”
The door shuts quietly. I press my back to the wall just outside the bathroom, exhaling so hard it nearly collapses me.
The sound of water hitting the tiles starts a war inside me. My chest tightens, and my claws bite into my palms until they break skin.
Go back to the living room. Put some distance between you two. Breathe.
I drag my claws roughly through my hair. It snags, but I keep pulling until my scalp tingles. I choke back a snarl, biting down on my tongue until I taste copper.
I will not break.
I will not shift.
But the bond pulls on me like a leash.
I can feel her.
Every droplet that hits her skin.
Every rise and fall of her chest.
Every soft exhale.
It all hums through me.
A soft, breathy moan comes from the other side of the door.
The sound spears through me like winter itself.
I know it wasn’t a sexual moan, but my body doesn’t care.
My claws slam into the wall. Suppressing the shift is almost unbearable.
If I were any less in control, this door would already be ripped from its hinges.
If I were any less hers, I’d already be inside that room.
Kaemorin.
My fingers find the base of one of my antlers, tracing the grooves, over and over.
I count them slowly in my head. She’s completely untouched by this bone, and I am unmade by it.
One tiny sound, and I’m ready to sink to my knees or rip through steel to get to her.
I try to tear my body away, but I’m glued to this wall like a predator listening to its prey.
“Sael?n...” It spills from my mouth like blood.
“Andrik?” She calls, voice muffled by the shower.
“You know how you asked what was wrong earlier?” I say, still pressed against the wall.
“Yes. Why? You sound like you’re in pain.”
“I know this won’t make sense right now,” I rasp, swallowing a growl. “But for now… I need to stay close to you,”
I brace for laughter, but it never comes.
“Okay, big guy,” she murmurs. “If that’s what you need... but I would like to know what’s actually going on.”
“I’ll tell you,” I promise. My spine arches painfully as the shift tries to take over again.
There’s so much I need to tell you.
A long pause settles between us.
Another moan, just a broken little sound, but it unhinges something in me. I sink my fangs into my shoulder, deep enough to ease the ache pulsing in my gums. I turn away from the wall and inch closer to the bathroom door.
“Lumi—” My voice cracks. “I need you to do something for me. Please.”
The wood creaks softly behind the door. “What is it?” she asks.
“Can you.. block the door for me?” My voice is barely more than a snarl. “With something heavy. Anything.”
“Andrik.”
I smell her fear.
Thrak.
Thrak.
Thrak.
“I won’t hurt you,” I promise. “But I don’t trust myself to stay out of that room another second if you make another sound like that.
The scrape of something sliding across the floor breaks the silence.
“It’s blocked,” she calls softly.
My bones start to shift—my back arches off the door, muscles seizing as they double in size.
“Sael?n…” I rasp.
You have no idea what you do to me.
Something scrapes again.
“Andrik, I’m just going to open—”
“No!” A snarl rips from my chest. “Do not open the door. Please.”
My claws dig deeper into my thighs until blood stains my white fur. I can’t shift, not when the only thing I’ve ever wanted stands on the other side of this door.
“I want to see you,” she says softly. “So I can understand.”
I need her scent out of my lungs so I can think clearly for just one second.
“I don’t want to scare you,” I whisper. “The thing inside me—the part trying to crawl out—it’s not bad… It’s just starving—for you.”
My tongue laps over the wound on my shoulder in an attempt to distract myself, but it isn’t enough.
“I’m trying so hard to keep it leashed,” I admit. “I’ll explain everything once I can breathe again.” I force the words out. “Even if it sounds impossible, Lumi. Every last word of it will be true.”
Veyr'thal?n ves kaer'vasha nai'mor, Sael?n. (I have never held anything I didn't ache to break soulbond.)
Lumi-
The water is scalding. It burns, but it’s the first thing that’s felt real since I woke up here.
The scent of cloves surrounds me as I scrub my skin, and it makes me think of him.
I reach to turn the water even hotter when I hear a scraping sound.
It sounds like something carving into wood.
I poke my head out of the shower and listen…
they’re not random noises, they’re rhythmic.
“Andrik?” I call out.
The sound stops immediately.
He couldn’t seem to get rid of me fast enough once we got into the bathroom, and much to my dismay… it hurt—a stupid, traitorous sting right behind my sternum.
Am I really so unbearable? Yes.
I don’t know why, but hearing him struggle in the hallway makes my heart hurt. He asked me to stay in here and block the door.
What is it about me that makes him need to stay away?
Maybe if I left, whatever’s happening to him would stop. He said he wouldn’t hurt me… but why did he feel the need to say it? Is he not able to be around humans without slaughtering them, like the scary stories say?
I glance at the window beside the shower, then back at the door. I know he’s right outside waiting for me.
Why do I feel guilty? Why does leaving feel like abandoning someone I don't even know?
I survived losing Anna. I learned to breathe through that kind of loss. Surely I can survive this.
But my chest aches, physically aches—like something invisible is hooked behind my ribs, tugging me backward toward the door… toward him.
This is insane. He’s a stranger.
A thud hits the bathroom door.
A deep growl splits the silence. My heart hammers in my chest, and my hair stands on end. Whatever is happening to him is escalating. And I’m obviously the trigger at the moment.
I dress quickly and throw a towel around my wet curls. I move toward the window, and with each step I take, the feeling in my chest grows more painful. I unhook the latch and push the pane open. Frigid air floods the room. Can I even survive out there?
Will I survive in here?
I don't know where I am. I search the woods, hoping for some kind of sign. I catch headlights out of my peripheral. If there’s a car this close, that means there has to be a road—a way home.
Could I really leave him like this after he saved me? And then I ask myself the question that makes up my mind.
Could I stay and watch him suffer because of me?
I already live with the guilt of surviving someone I loved. I can’t add another ghost to the list.
Another snarl rips through the room. I swing my leg over the windowsill. The cold hits instantly, biting at my still-hot skin.
He saved your life, Lumi. And you’re repaying him by running away.
I won’t be the reason another life is ruined.
I swing the other leg over, and then I jump. I land clumsily in the snow, but nothing hurts, so that’s a plus.
I walk toward the faint lights. Guilt gnaws at me. What if he needs help? What if he’s hurt, and that’s why he was making those noises?
It feels darker than it did when I was out here earlier, and the further I walk, the more I feel like the forest is silently judging me for running away from the very thing it led me to.
Something snaps behind me. I duck behind the nearest tree. Snap. Crack.
I drop to the ground and inch forward. A howl splits the stillness, vibrating the very snow I’m crawling over. It didn’t sound like any animal I’ve ever heard before.
“Lumi!!” His voice shreds through the branches like the sky itself is screaming my name.
Shit.
He must have realized I left.
He’s coming for me.
I don’t know what's safer: running… or being caught.