Heart of a Beast

Chapter 8 | Crystal

When Tiberius ran, Crystal held as tightly as she could around his neck as he followed their werewolf escorts across the territory to the packhouse. When his pace slowed, she nearly fell asleep with the gentle rocking movements.

Curious glances tickled her nape as a hush followed them into the packhouse. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter and buried her face in his shoulder.

They were guided to the pack's infirmary, where Tiberius set her down on a narrow bed and took a seat on the floor at her side. He lay his head on the mattress next to her stomach and nudged her elbow with his nose.

Even with the scars etched across his face, his wolf's head was cute with the swirl of caramel around his eyes. Her stomach fluttered with the way he looked up at her—the eyes of an adoring mate.

He was her mate. No other male would ever look at her that way, she knew, and she twisted her fingers together before tentatively reaching out and scratching him behind the ear.

He closed his eyes and melted under her touch.

She didn't know what to make of him or the way he made her feel when he gazed at her like that. She wanted to disappear, and yet... it was a good feeling. It made her almost giddy.

But someday, he'd want more from her and that thought terrified her.

Tiberius' ears perked forward and his eyes shifted to the door at her feet. He rose and leaned over her body in a protective stance seconds before the door opened and the alpha of the pack strolled in.

He regarded Tiberius briefly before introducing himself, informing them that her parents would arrive shortly, and then excused himself.

Behind him, a female entered with a tray of food, a pair of grilled chicken legs, veggies, and a baked potato before leaving. She set the tray down at the foot of the bed before exiting.

Crystal wasn't hungry but didn't want to be rude either. The Nickel Moon Pack had let a dangerous rogue enter their midst and were reuniting her with her family. Providing a meal was a far kinder gesture than she anticipated.

Tiberius' stomach growled loudly as he withdrew and set the tray on her lap, and watched her as he sat on the floor by her side.

"Hungry?" she teased.

His ears flattened back and he looked away.

She held up one of the two chicken legs. "Here. Catch."

His ears perked forward and he sat upright, waiting. She tossed him the chicken leg and his jaws caught it easily.

He chomped it down in two bites. She tossed him the second one before helping herself to the grilled veggies.

He licked his chops before setting his head back on the mattress next to her, watching her eat.

Squirming under his gaze, she glanced at his shoulder and noticed the patches of crusty matted fur. Her stomach clenched. "Are you hurt? Should I call for someone to have a look at your shoulder?"

Pulling back, he shook his head and clamped a dirty paw over his shoulder before looking away.

Lycans healed quicker than werewolves, she knew, but if he sustained a vampire bite, did it need to be treated? Werewolves treated vampire bites to help speed up the healing process. The venom went into the bloodstream and left them bedridden with fevers for twenty-four hours while the body fought the poison.

But lycans... They were the superior race.

History said that the Moon Goddess created lycans as a breed of warriors—faster, stronger, and more deadly than any other creature alive—to protect the human race from the supernatural world that threatened their very existence thousands of years ago. Vampires sought world domination, to enslave and breed humans like cattle. How the vampires came into existence was a secret they kept to themselves, though most werewolves and lycans presumed the secret died with the first vampire and no one remembered now, lending the superstitions, myths, and legends to tell their origins.