Chapter 18
CHAD
Iprowl through a forest, each footfall landing with a weight that cracks the dead branches beneath.
I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been moving, but night wraps around me and I breathe it in—the rich decay of the forest floor, the scurrying heartbeats of small creatures fleeing my approach.
The world has never been so vivid, so raw.
Colors have depths I never knew existed.
Sounds carry layers of information my human ears couldn't detect.
But the hunger... gods, the hunger is still a living thing inside me.
I catch the scent on the wind: warm, musky, alive. My head snaps toward it, nostrils flaring. Without conscious thought, I'm already moving, a silent predator tracking prey. The boar is large, tusked, and dangerous to any normal hunter. I am not normal anymore.
It senses me too late. I pounce, my claws finding purchase in thick hide as I drive it to the ground.
It squeals, thrashing beneath me, but I am stronger than I've ever been.
My jaws—no longer a man's mouth but something designed for tearing—close around its throat.
Hot blood fills my mouth, and I growl in savage satisfaction as the creature's struggles weaken, then cease.
I tear into the carcass, ripping flesh from bone, gorging myself on the still-warm meat. The blood coats my chest, my claws, my face. It should be enough. This primal feast should sate the beast that now lives in my skin.
But it's not enough. It's never enough.
Because beneath the animal hunger is something deeper, darker. A need that has nothing to do with food and everything to do with… possession. With claiming.
I throw back my head and roar my frustration to the night sky, the sound echoing through the trees. Birds burst from branches in panicked flight.
“Well, well. Someone's having a bad night.”
The voice slides through the darkness like silk. I whirl, dropping into a crouch, a warning growl rumbling in my chest.
Two figures stand at the edge of the clearing. Identical twins with pitch-black hair. Their eyes gleam with crimson light, and subtle horns curve from their temples.
Sun and Kun. Darkbirch’s incubus twins.
“Look at you,” Sun says, stepping forward casually. “All grown up and embracing your heritage.”
“Though your table manners could use some work,” Kun adds, gesturing to the torn carcass at my feet.
I snarl at them, my claws flexing. I know them—some part of me recognizes them—but the demon sees only potential threats. Rivals.
“Easy, cousin,” Sun murmurs, his voice taking on a strange, resonant quality. “We’re demons too, you know, and we're not here to fight.”
“We're here to help,” Kun continues, moving in perfect sync with his twin, circling to my other side. “Though not for your sake.”
“For hers,” they say in unison.
“We heard her yelling your name into the woods for hours,” Sun explains.
The name doesn't need to be spoken. Brynn. They've always wanted her, these two. Always flirting, trying to seduce her with their incubus charm. The thought makes my blood boil, and I lunge at Sun with a speed that surprises even me.
He manages to sidestep my attack, his hand coming up to press against my forehead. The touch burns like ice, sending a shock through my system that momentarily clears the red haze from my vision.
“There you are, Chad,” he says, looking into my eyes. “Still in there, aren't you?”
Kun appears behind me, his hands gripping my shoulders with inhuman strength. “You need to regain control,” he says, his breath cool against my ear. “This form is consuming you.”
I struggle against their hold, but they work in perfect tandem, their strange magic—subtle but effective—weaving around me like chains.
“Listen to us,” Sun commands. “A seal was the only thing keeping your true nature contained. Now it's broken, and you're drowning in it.”
“We can help you find balance,” Kun continues. “We can show you how to maintain your humanity while embracing your power.”
“Why?” I manage to growl, the word tearing from my throat. “Why help me?”
They exchange a glance, and for a moment, their perpetual smirks fade.
“Because she cares for you,” Sun admits reluctantly. “And we care for her.”
“And if you ever return to Darkbirch like this,” Kun adds, “you'll tear her apart.”
The truth of his words hits me. Images flash through my mind—my claws dragging down her skin, my teeth at her throat, her breath breaking as I take what I want and mark her soul as mine. I roar again, this time in anguish rather than rage.
“That's it,” Sun encourages. “Focus on that. On her. On protecting her from yourself.”
Their magic intensifies, a cool balm against the burning chaos of my transformed mind. For a moment, I feel something shift—the demon receding, just slightly, giving me room to breathe, to think.
Then the forest goes silent.
The twins freeze, their heads snapping up in perfect unison, nostrils flaring. Fear—pure, instinctual fear—flashes across their faces.
“We need to go,” Kun whispers urgently. “Now.”
“But he's not—” Sun begins.
“Something’s coming,” Kun hisses, already backing away. “We can't be here when it arrives.”
“What?” I demand, my voice more human than it’s been in hours.
They don't answer. Instead, they release me and retreat, their movements suddenly jerky with barely contained panic.
“We'll find you again,” Sun calls over his shoulder. “Just... try not to kill anyone important until then.”
Then they're gone, melting into the shadows as if they never existed.
I stand alone in the clearing, confusion momentarily overriding the hunger. What could possibly frighten two incubi into flight?
The answer comes in the form of… a presence. A presence that feels vast and… ancient, the air itself seeming to thicken. The trees shiver. I feel a slight tremor run through the ground.
Then a figure steps into the clearing: a man, but not a man.
Taller than any human should be, with skin that matches the darkness of mine and eyes like twin furnaces.
Great horns sweep back from his temples, ridged and spiraling like those of a ram but ending in needle-sharp points that glint in the sparse moonlight.
He wears what looks like ancient armor—not metal but something like blackened bone, interlocking plates etched with unfamiliar symbols.
The forest falls utterly silent in his presence. Even the leaves still. Even the night seems to hold its breath.
I know him. I have never seen him, yet something in me rises in recognition—old as blood, older than memory.
Every cell in my body recognizes the power in front of me.
“My son,” he says at last, his voice deep and rough as stone. “I can scarcely believe we meet at last.”