Niamhs POV

His lips demanded entrance, and without a thought, I found myself complying.

One second I was trying to save a dying man, and the next, he was devouring me.

The kiss tasted like wild rain and storm; like wet grass, mud and blood.

The tastiest kiss I've ever had.

My hands were trapped against his chest, feeling his slick hot body mixing with the cool rain and the hard muscle underneath.

I couldn't even get a breath in.

My heart was thumping so hard against my ribs I thought it might actually break out and run away, leaving me for dead. Every instinct told me to fight, to scream, but he held me so tightly that I was at the brink of snapping.

And then suddenly, I felt the sharp, unmistakable prick of fangs against my bottom lip.

They weren't like human teeth; they were thick and needle-sharp.

It felt like my skin would break but they didn't break my skin. Although, the pressure was there, as a terrifying reminder that the man holding me was dangerous.

And yet, I couldn't push him away.

Something was making me cling to him, in a way that made me feel not ashamed.

I couldn't see his face but images of him taking him in the mud flashed across my mind.

My palms found their way to the gashes on his back, and that's when the world went sideways.

Under my fingers, his skin began to move in a frantic, bubbling sensation.

I felt the deep, open wounds seal shut in seconds, the ragged edges of his flesh knitting together until the skin was smooth again.

At the same time, the feverish heat left him.

He went from burning hot to ice-cold in a single heartbeat, his skin turning as chilled as the rain hitting us.

And when I found his cold body comforting, when I started to melt into the kiss and forget everything that had gone wrong in my life, the kiss ended just as fast as it had started.

A deep, vibrating snarl ripped through the air, and suddenly, the man was yanked off me.

Two massive shapes tore out of the trees, hitting him with enough force to send mud flying into my face.

They were huge; the size of bears but shaped like wolves, with matted fur and eyes that glowed a dull, sickly red.

The creatures snapped their jaws, lunging for the man's throat while he was still trying to stand up from where they had flung him to the ground.

Dread curled low in my belly as I lay there in the mud, watching the creatures attack the huge man.

"Help!" I tried to yell, but my voice was just a dry croak in the pouring rain.

I scrambled backward on my hands and knees, my heart in my throat.

The three of them were a blur of fur and muscle in the dark.

One of the beasts sank its teeth into the man's shoulder, but the man seemed unaffected. He didn't even make a sound. He just reached out and grabbed the beast by its neck.

Then, I saw his hands.

His fingers changed into claws. Thick, black, long nails that looked like an abyss.

With one violent shove, he grabbed the first beast with his claws, snapped its neck and then threw the beast into a tree with a sickening thud.

The second one jumped at him, its mouth wide, but the man was faster.

He swung his transformed arm in a wide arc, his new claws ripping through the creature's chest like it was made of paper.

There was a wet, tearing sound, and then the pungent smell of iron hit me.

Blood sprayed across the mud and grass, turning the puddles darker.

In less than a minute, both of the creatures were slumped in the mud, their throats torn open and their bodies still.

The man stood over them, his chest not even heaving as he stared down at the carcasses.

He didn't have a single scratch on him. He slowly turned his head to look at me, his eyes still glowing a bright, molten amber.

As I watched him stand a few feet away from me, the black claws on his hands began to shrink, his fingers turning back to normal, though they were still covered in blood.

I just stared at him as fear gripped me.

He's going to kill me and lump my body with the beasts lying behind him.

Suddenly, it all became too much.

My brain couldn't process any of it.

The divorce, the slap from Evelyn, the rain, and now this; it was too much.

The world started to go fuzzy at the edges. The sound of the rain turned into a distant hum, and my legs felt like they were made of lead even as I lay in the mud.

I fought to stay awake, my fingers digging into the wet mud to keep myself upright, but the darkness was faster.

The last thing I saw was the man walking toward me.

Then, everything went black the moment I realized he wasn't wearing any clothes, not even underwear.

Alastairion's POV

I stood over the unconscious woman as my feet sank into the wet grass, watching her chest rise and fall steadily.

Nearby, the smell of blood from the two dead wolves began to fade, washed away by the heavy rain.

The storm tonight was extremely violent and dark enough to keep me paralyzed.

Since that night many centuries ago, the rain had always felt suffocating and heavy. A feeling I couldn't run from, unless I went to another city where there was no rain at that point in time.

It blurred my senses and made me feel as feeble and docile as a human. As 'ordinary' as these beings.

But tonight was different.

The air felt electric, and I could track every single drop that hit the ground.

My predatory instincts were sharper than ever. I could even smell the stench of blood cooling in the dead wolves, and beneath that, the fast, panicked heartbeat of the strange woman at my feet.

Just when I was about to lean down to check if she was running a fever, the sound of footsteps reached me then.

Before he could even draw closer, I smelled the loyalty and concern on him.

Atticus.

He skidded to a halt a few feet away, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

I could hear his heart thudding against his ribs like a panicked drum.

For a long moment, the only sound was the roar of the rain and the distant rumble of thunders clapping.

Lightening streaked the sky, briefly illuminating the woman in the grass.

I could hear and smell it all without feeling a pinch of pain.

Atticus took a sharp intake of breath.

"My... my King..." he stuttered, his voice trembling and was almost lost to the wind.

I ignored him as my attention was entirely focused on the woman.

Her dark hair spread out like a stain of black ink in the wet grass, and I stared at the softness of her throat.

I heard the wet squish of a material before feeling its dampness on the back of my skin as he covered me with it.

It was a long coat.

"You... you killed a human?" Atticus's voice cracked, rising in pitch as shock took hold.

He stepped closer, his steps cautious until he stood just behind me. I could feel the heat of his anxiety and the disbelief radiating from him in waves.

To him, the scene must have been a horror picture: his King, naked and drenched in blood under the storm, standing over the limp body of a small, helpless female human.

My mind, however, drifted back to the moment of my madness. She had touched me when I was at my weakest, and I had instantly lost all control.

The kiss was never my intention; the very idea was ludicrous, a violation of the sacred laws that kept our kind separate from theirs.

I was a Lycan King, of the purest bloodline, and she was nothing more than a stray human I'd stumbled upon in this rain.

But then I recalled the ancient prophecies. They spoke of a rare, near-mythical phenomenon where certain humans whose very presence could call forth a primal desire in a Lycan or other, a hunger not unlike the way our raw power could hypnotize and lure humans to their doom. It was described as a glitch, an act that was meant to be detrimental to the human involved.

But as our lips met, I felt my injuries begin to heal and the darkness in my mind finally cleared.

It was as if I had sucked the energy out of her. That should not have been the case.

She is supposed to be dead.

The shame of the kiss was a bitter, foul taste in the back of my throat, but it was quickly overshadowed by a growing, nagging suspicion.

This couldn't have been a simple human encounter. Surviving that, and the way my own wounds had vanished only led to one possible conclusion.

"She's... not human," I finally spoke to Atticus as the rain poured around us.

Alastairion's POV

"What do you mean she isn't human?" Atticus questioned sounding a bit appalled, his voice straining against the roar of the wind.

I didn't answer immediately.

How could I explain that my wounds, deep and jagged enough to expose bone, had vanished the moment her lips touched mine?

The power that had surged through me when I kissed her wasn't the slow, agonizing crawl of Lycan regeneration.

If she were human, then it meant she was just one of the rare ones the prophecy described. But the prophecies didn't mention any healing powers.

Atticus moved cautiously as he stepped around me.

He crouched beside her, his head dipping low as he inhaled her scent.

"She smells like a human..." Atticus announced, his brow furrowed as he looked up at me. "There is no trace of other in her, at least not our kind."

"Aye, she does," I agreed, my voice a low rumble.

He is right. I can also smell her humanness but there are questions about the kiss and what happened after.

I cannot share this with Atticus, not until I know what the woman is.

Atticus stood up and looked over at the two dead wolves I had just killed.

They were slumped in messy piles, their pale, reddish eyes staring at nothing. These weren't regular wolves; they were much bigger and more aggressive, like Betas. They had attacked so perfectly that it seemed like they knew exactly who they were attacking.

"How did they know about your weakness?" Atticus wondered out loud, his voice tight with frustration.

He paced in circles through the wet grass, his eyes darting toward the trees as if he expected more attackers to jump out at any moment. "This feels too planned to be a random attack," he muttered.

"They did not know about my weakness. I was ambushed and hence, taken unaware." I grumbled in response.

Atticus sighed with exasperation. "You will never agree to being weak. But look at the timing, my King. They must have known somehow. I am the only one who knows."

I growled again, this time a warning. I did not want to think about the possibility of betrayal, nor did I want to dwell on the curse that had been placed on me centuries ago.

It was a stain on my history and royalty.

"Whether they were aware or not is irrelevant," I snapped, my eyes flashing.

"Yes, because they're dead and we cannot question them," Atticus responded deadpan with heavy sarcasm, gesturing to the mangled remains of the wolves.

He was the only one who dared to speak to me with such bluntness.

He bent low once more, his nose nearly touching the woman's damp cheek as he took another long sniff.

He stayed there for a moment, his eyes softening.

"She smells of tragedy," Atticus said sympathetically after getting to his feet.

"Aye," I replied, my eyes fixed on her closed eyelids.

"Whoever sent them is waging war," Atticus said, his tone shifting back to the reality of my situation as he briefly eyed the dead wolves.

"I won't let all our years of hard work and peace just crumble like that," I stated calmly. The wind picked up, as if motivated by my words. "Send for the elders and the Alphas tomorrow. I want a full council. If there is a traitor among us, I will find them and peel the skin from their bones."

"And the woman?" Atticus asked, his eyes darting to her limp form.

I leaned down, my large hands slipping under her small body. She felt much lighter than I expected, and her skin was cold from the rain.

When I lifted her, her head rested against my chest, her damp hair falling over my arm like silk. The stark contrast between my bloody, scarred body and her pale fragile body was almost ironic.

I began moving toward the castle, taking long, purposeful strides. The forest seemed to part for us, the trees looming like quiet guards as we stepped onto the hidden, dark path leading to the fortress.

"What are you going to do with her?" Atticus hurried to keep pace with me, his boots squishing loudly in the mud. "Just leave her be. We can leave her here. Someone will find her."

He was trying to be the voice of reason, the advisor who always kept my impulses in check.

But he didn't understand. He hadn't seen the way her touch had mended my flesh.

"How did she end up here?'" Atticus pressed when I remained silent. "This road is miles from any human settlement. A woman in flats and a diner uniform doesn't just wander into the heart of our territory by accident."

"I don't know," I answered, my voice tight, slowly getting annoyed by his relentless questions. "But she found me before I found her."

I thought of her face hovering over mine in the dark, her eyes wide with a terror she had pushed aside to try and help a dying stranger.

She had been at her lowest point, and yet she had reached out to a monster.

"And...?" Atticus prompted, his voice dropping suspiciously. He had been with me long enough to know when I was leaving something out. "There is something else. What happened?"

I stopped for a second, the castle's silhouette emerging through the mist like a crown.

"I kissed her," I said to him.

The words were barely a whisper, yet in the stillness between the thunderclaps, they sounded very loud.

Atticus howled, an involuntary sound of pure shock that he couldn't stop. He stumbled, catching himself against a tree trunk.

"You have shocked me, my King," he stuttered, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Even my wolf couldn't stand it. A Lycan King... a human... like that? Please tell me you're lying. Tell me it was a fever dream."

"I have never told a lie, Atticus," I said, turning my head to look at him.

Atticus looked from me to the woman, then back again.

He moved closer, leaning over her as we resumed our walk.

"It's a miracle she's even breathing," Atticus whispered in awe. "A human shouldn't be able to handle that kind of energy, especially not while you were in such a vulnerable state."

The ancient stone walls loomed ahead as we trudged the path. Atticus' voice came back with a warning.

"She won't be alive for long," he whispered, the warning heavy in the air. "Look at her. She is fading. Either you leave her for dead and let nature take its course, or you do the forbidden act."

I didn't stop walking to look at him as we made our way up the steep path leading to the castle.

"I know, Atticus. I am aware." I replied bluntly.