The stench of Zerg ichor hangs heavy in the air. I wipe a splatter of green slime off my cheek, my chest heaving slightly from the exertion.
"Most Awakeners handle the risk of Falling by engaging in physical intimacy," Arlo says, his voice trembling slightly as he watches me drag the massive, unconscious body of the Werewolf across the pavement. "It's the most efficient way to stabilize their mental state."
I grunt, shoving a heavy, furry leg into the backseat of the SUV. The Alpha is dead weight—solid muscle and dense bone.
"Right. Sex saves the world. Got it," I mutter. "What a convenient plot device."
"However," Arlo continues, keeping a safe distance from the beast's razor-sharp claws, "some Awakened species have...different standards. Angels and Elves, for example, are obsessed with being clean. They naturally repel physical touch. Werewolves, on the other hand..."
He pauses as I accidentally bang the Werewolf's head against the door frame. The beast lets out a low, unconscious growl.
"...don't mind it," Arlo finishes quickly. "In fact, they are known for being fiercely loyal. They only recognize one mate for their entire lives. Once they imprint, it's forever."
I pause, looking down at the unconscious Alpha. Fenris Volkov. That's the name on the bounty poster. Even covered in grime and blood, he is a masterpiece of violence. His skin burns with a feverish heat that radiates through his shredded clothes. Scars map his torso like a war history.
A loyal, muscle-bound Alpha with a lifetime guarantee? Sounds like a fantastic bed warmer. But right now, the five-million-credit bounty hanging over his head is slightly more attractive than his eight-pack abs.
"Get in the front," I order Arlo.
Arlo hesitates, eyeing the backseat nervously. Even unconscious, Fenris emits a low, threatening vibration that rattles the car frame.
"I...I can't sit there. If he wakes up, he'll bite my head off."
I sigh. "Fine. You take the back, Darling. I'll tie the puppy up in the front seat."
"Won't he break free?" Arlo asks, horrified.
"Not with my knots," I say, a wicked smirk touching my lips.
I haul Fenris into the passenger seat. It's a tight fit. His broad shoulders practically fill the entire space. As I lean over him to pull the seatbelt across his chest, my body presses against his.
His reaction is instantaneous. Despite being unconscious, his nostrils flare. He inhales sharply, his head tilting instinctively toward my neck. The growling in his chest stops, replaced by a deep, rhythmic purr that vibrates against my ribs.
I pause, my hand resting on his burning chest. His heart is hammering against my palm—fast, powerful, and chaotic.
"See?" I whisper, amused. "He likes me."
A seatbelt isn't enough for a Class-S Fallen. I use a coil of high-tensile rope I scavenged. I tie his wrists together, then secure them to the door handle. The friction of the rope against his skin seems to wake him up slightly. His eyelids flutter, revealing slivers of chaotic crimson.
He starts to thrash, a snarl building in his throat.
"Hush now," I say soothingly.
I grab my spare jacket. It's soaked in my sweat and perfume. I ball up the sleeve and, without hesitation, shove it into his growling mouth.
"Bite down," I command.
The moment the fabric touches his tongue, Fenris freezes. His eyes snap open—hazy, unfocused, but locked onto me.
He doesn't spit it out. Instead, he bites down greedily, his jaw working as he sucks the scent from the fabric. He slumps back against the seat, his nose twitching as he inhales the scent of my jacket like it's the strongest drug on earth.
From the backseat, Arlo watches in disbelief. "That...that actually worked?"
"Basic biology, Darling," I say, patting Fenris's cheek. "He's just a big, bad wolf looking for a pacifier."
---
[Fenris's POV]
Fire. Everything was fire. Since the corruption took hold, Fenris's mind had been a labyrinth of blood, rage, and endless, screaming hunger.
He awakened early, a prodigy of the Volkov bloodline. He had survived rut cycles before, ripped through enemies, and commanded packs. But this? This was different. The primitive urge to destroy, to mate, to conquer was consuming him from the inside out. He was drowning in the madness.
Until she touched him.
It wasn't a gentle touch. It was rough. Practical. He felt the rope biting into his wrists. He felt the restriction of the seatbelt. But mostly, he felt her.
Her hands were cool against his feverish skin. When she leaned over him to tie the knots, her scent flooded his senses. It hit his brain like a sledgehammer.
Mate.
The wolf inside him roared in recognition. She is capturing us. She is binding us. Good.
He wanted to struggle. He wanted to rip the car apart. But the moment she shoved that fabric into his mouth, his instincts betrayed him. It tasted like her. He clamped his jaws shut, grounding himself in her flavor.
Suddenly, a foreign scent drifts from the backseat. Male. Weak. Rival.
Fenris's lip curls back around the gag. A low, dangerous growl rumbles in his throat. Kill him. Tear out his throat.
"You're dirty," a cool voice cuts through his aggression. Her hand brushes his shoulder, pushing him back. "Don't lean on me."
The rejection stings sharper than any blade. His ears flatten against his skull in instant submission. He shrinks back into the seat, trying to make himself smaller. He doesn't want her to be angry. He wants her to pet him again.
He turns his head, staring at her profile as she drives. The sunlight catches the stray hairs escaping her ponytail.
Beautiful. Dangerous. Mine.
---
[Rea's POV]
We finally reach the drop-off point—a shattered plaza near the city limits. The Angelic Squad is waiting.
The leader, Raphael Sterling, stands amidst the ruins like a statue carved from ice. His white military uniform is spotless, free of even a speck of dust, a stark contrast to the blood and grime of the city. Six pristine white wings are folded neatly behind his back.
His expression is one of absolute, terrifying indifference.
I park the car and hop out. "I found your lost dog," I announce, dragging Fenris out of the passenger seat.
I hold out a hand, palm up. "Five million credits, please. Direct deposit or cheque? I also accept gold bars."
Raphael looks at me. His eyes are a pale, unnerving silver. He glances at the bound Werewolf, then back at me, as if we are both bugs beneath his notice.
"The Volkov heir," Raphael says, his voice smooth and cold. "Inject the purification serum."
The makeshift ropes are sliced away.
Before Fenris can lunge, the Academy disciples swarm him. They pin his limbs to the concrete, forcing a heavy, black metal collar around his neck.
Click. Hiss.
The device engages instantly. It floods his system with a potent mix of purification serum and tranquilizers. I can practically see the strength draining from his massive body. His muscles turn to jelly, his vision blurring as the drugs take hold.
Raphael Sterling signals for his men to drag the specimen away.
But Fenris fights. Despite the drugs, despite the collar, he drags his dead weight across the asphalt, his claws scraping deep gouges into the ground. His eyes are glued to me, burning with a desperate, terrifying focus.
Behind him, his thick tail is slamming against the ground in a frantic rhythm.
"Let...me...go..." His voice is a wrecked, guttural rasp, every word bleeding through his gritted teeth. "My...Mate..."
I sigh and squat down in front of him, meeting his chaotic red eyes. "Look, buddy, we literally just met," I say, tilting my head. "I am not your mate. I am your retirement plan. But thanks for the five million credits."
Fenris blinks sluggishly, his brain short-circuiting. "Mate..."
"No."
"Mate..."
"Still no."
Raphael watches this exchange with dead eyes. "This conversation is inefficient."
He checks his datapad, his voice devoid of any human warmth. "The payment has been authorized. You may leave."
I purse my lips and stand up. "Let's go, Arlo."
Raphael turns to leave.
Angels operate on Order, not Charity. They have a schedule to keep, and giving a ride to two homeless isn't on it.
Angels are 'Lawful Good' on paper, but in reality? They are cold, clinical sociopaths who would let you bleed out on the sidewalk if saving you violated a protocol.
I see Raphael raise a hand. He looks annoyed by Fenris's continued struggling. He's about to use force.
"Wait."
I step in before the Angel can strike. Fenris's eyes snap to me instantly, lighting up like flares in the dark.
I reach out and grab his chin, my fingers digging into his rough, feverish skin. I turn his face left and right, inspecting him like I'm buying a used car.
"Hm. You clean up nice," I muse, studying his sharp jawline. "You're actually quite handsome under all that grime."
Fenris leans into my touch, his eyes fluttering shut. A deep, rumbling purr vibrates in his chest—a sound so loud it echoes in the silent plaza. He nuzzles his face into my palm, kissing the center of my hand.
I pull my hand away. Fenris lets out a sound of pure heartbreak.
"If you manage to regain your sanity and turn back into a human," I whisper, leaning close to his wolf ear, my voice low and teasing. "I might consider letting you be my Familiar."
His eyes snap open, the crimson pupils dilating.
"But I have standards," I add, wiping the grime from my hands on his shredded pants. "Don't forget to bring a clean bill of health and your resume next time. I don't date the unemployed."
I stand up and walk away without looking back. "Let's go, Arlo. Time to make more money."Arlo scrambles to keep up with me, glancing nervously over his shoulder at the Angel's armored transport.
"He's still watching you," Arlo whispers, shivering. "Even with that collar on...he looks like he wants to devour you."
I pause and glance back one last time. The heavy steel doors of the transport are slowly closing.
Through the narrowing gap, I catch a glimpse of Fenris. He isn't fighting the chains anymore. He is curled in the corner, clutching my jacket—which I forgot to retrieve—to his chest like a lifeline. He buries his nose deep into the fabric, inhaling my scent with a look of terrifying, lucid obsession.
Just before the doors seal shut, I see his lips move. He mouths a single word into the darkness, his eyes burning into mine.
Mine.
I smirk and turn away, tossing my car keys in the air. "Cute puppy."