Zane | ✔︎

Chapter Six | Death Lusting.

No.

No, I can't.

Great Luna, don't lay this on me.

This is not real.

Storm froze, her white eyes paining her skull as her sharp nails retracted and she was left with a small frame. The surges in her body went haywire, she was unconscious, yet awake.

The people in the cell disappeared from her vision.

No brothers, no thorns. She only saw one person, a person she dreaded to meet the most in this entire clan, or any place.

She never anticipated a mate, more so because she thought she did not have one. How can a girl, with a body that kills and a mind that does not talk have a mate? Yet here she was, hearing her wolf finally talk after what felt like millennia.

And she spoke when she found her mate.

She could see her mate.
The man saw her.
The man...that darn man.
She stopped breathing.

"Ah, took you long enough son. I was just speaking to her, she seems lovely," Chase enlightened with a welcoming smile, but the man did nothing.

He did not react, he did not blink.

He bore his eyes at her, looking as paralyzed as she was.

More than shock, he held powerful emotions in a wim that crippled her.

The only difference is, his red eyes made a diabolic statement.

Storm was scared, his eyes were red.
No wolf had red eyes, his wolf had the color of shed blood.

Her eyes were rare, but her eyes were not mythical. She became small on her spot, her body paling. The man followed his eyes with her pace, he saw her small, tiny.

His eyes, lips, hair.
His presence.
All of it, otherworldly. You would assume male werewolves look tough, beaten up, and jeered. But he, he was none of that.

His eyes, though red, were the darkest she's ever seen. His eyebrows were thick, full. He was built, tight, towering. He was covered in black. The only pattern-breaking colors were his eyes and his dark brown, messy hair.

She wanted to shiver, but she immediately repulsed her desire for touching.

She wanted to touch a man.
Who scared her.
He knew it. He saw her react.

His stare started compelling.

"She refuses to tell us anything, she may not be in the condition for an interrogation." Dion came forth, but his voice was blurry.

To them both, they could not hear anything. Storm only heard his breathing, his quickening, robust heartbeat. She never heard a heart so clear.
She heard his bones crack, his lips part. His hands formed into fists. She could smell his scent. His enriching cologne, his earthy odor. He felt like an angel, even without touch.

But he, he heard her voice quiver. Her hoarse throat, her cracked tone. He heard her uneven heartbeat, beating too fast for her body. She smelled like blood, her wolf was weak. And despite her ice-blue eyes, she was dirty. Covered in her sweat and tears, he heard her breathe like she was dying.

The man's jaw tightened.

And then it hit them both. The excruciating and dangerous mate bond started connecting their bodies, their spirits, and their consciousness. Their endorphins raised, the adrenaline peaked, their body ached, their body warmed up, and their senses heightened.

But for him, it was inviting. For Storm, it was rotting her. Her wolf being neglected did not enable her to feel the mate bond. Instead of feeling closer, she felt further away from the bond.