I never believed in monsters.
Not the kind that hid under the bed or lurked in the shadows of bedtime stories. Those were for children. I believed in real-life monsters — the kind that wore smiles in the day and stabbed you in the back at night. But even those monsters had rules.
The one I met in the woods had none.
It started on the night of my eighteenth birthday. No parties. No cake. Just a quiet, broken apartment that reeked of silence and old memories. My mom had left hours ago for her night shift at the diner, and I sat alone on the torn couch, watching shadows dance across the ceiling.
Eighteen was supposed to mean freedom.
Instead, it felt like nothing had changed.
Outside, the wind howled through the trees behind our neighborhood. No one ever went into those woods. Not after the disappearances. They said it was wild animals — wolves, maybe — though no one ever found any bodies. Only blood.
But I needed air.
Something about that night felt heavy — like I was being smothered.
I grabbed my hoodie and slipped out the back door, my sneakers crunching against the damp grass. The moon hung low, full and bright, casting silver over everything like a dream.
Or a warning.
I followed the edge of the trees, my breath fogging in the cold. It was stupid. Reckless. I knew that. But something tugged at me — a feeling in my chest I couldn't shake. Like something was waiting for me.
I didn't realize how far I'd wandered until I could no longer see the house lights. The forest had swallowed me whole. The silence here was unnatural — too still, too quiet, like the trees themselves were holding their breath.
Then I heard it.
A low growl. Deep. Rumbling.
Every hair on my body stood on end.
I turned slowly. And there he was.
At first, I thought it was an animal — a wolf, maybe — but no wolf I'd ever seen stood six feet tall with eyes like molten silver. He stepped forward, barefoot, shirtless, his body rippling with strength. Muscles coiled beneath scarred skin, and a dark tattoo curled across his chest, pulsing faintly in the moonlight.
His eyes locked onto mine.
I couldn't move.
I should've run. I should've screamed. But something inside me froze. Not from fear — from recognition.
I didn't know him. I had never seen him before.
But my soul did.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, voice rough, as if it hadn't been used in years.
"I—I didn't mean to—" I stammered. "I was just walking. I didn't think—"
"You crossed the line."
"What line?"
"Our boundary."
I took a step back, but he followed. His scent hit me like a wave — wild, earthy, intoxicating. My heart thudded against my ribs.
"I'll go," I whispered. "Just let me—"
He was in front of me in a flash. One second he was three feet away. The next, he was inches from my face, staring down at me with an expression I couldn't read.
"You don't smell like them," he murmured.
"Who?"
"The others. The humans."
I blinked. "I am human."
He tilted his head. "No… you're not."
Then everything happened at once.
Pain exploded in my shoulder as his teeth sank into my skin. A scream tore from my throat, but it was cut short by the sheer force of the agony. My knees buckled. The world tilted. My vision swam with stars and shadows.
I hit the ground, gasping.
Heat spread from the bite — molten and electric, crawling through my veins like liquid fire. My heartbeat roared in my ears. I tried to crawl away, but my limbs refused to listen.
He crouched beside me, his expression fierce… and almost pained.
His fingers brushed my cheek, surprisingly gentle for someone who had just bitten me.
"I didn't mean to," he whispered, more to himself than to me.
My lips parted, but no words came out.
As darkness closed in, I heard his voice — low, broken, full of something that sounded like regret… or possession.
"Mine."