#bouncing in my seat I was so tense because the suspense was AWFUL it was so good | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kisskissbanggang · 5 years ago

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Prowl pt. 3

[30Min. Read/9.6K Words – Wolf!Bang Chan x Female Reader, Human!Jisung x Female Reader, – Monsters!AU, Mostly Plot, NSFW/Smut – Vampires & Werewolves, Mysteries, Suspense, Love Triangles, Jealousy, Name-Calling, Blood, Violence, Tense Situations, Bad Instincts, Power Plays, Marking, Questionable Coping]

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You awoke with a gasp, bolting upright from where you lay, almost as if you were just now finishing your collapse from the previous night. It felt like a small blessing to find that you were still on the couch in the reading nook of the bookstore. The only curiosity was that you found yourself clothed once again.

A clatter down one of the aisles startled you and you got up, warily stepping past a badly splintered bookshelf. Jisung was picking up a stack of books, presumably having tried to carry too many in the first place. It was his turn to be surprised as he whirled around to see you. You winced at the violet bruise on his cheek, and he softened as he realized you weren’t some intruder.

“You're up? Is it that time already?” He asked incredulously, more to himself than to you. “I’ve been cleaning all afternoon and I feel like I got nothing done. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, reshuffling your thoughts into place as you finished waking up, “did you get me dressed?”

“Of course,” Jisung shrugged, “I figured it'd be no fun to wake up after a night like that and find yourself still naked.”

You smiled softly at the sentiment, helping Jisung pick up the rest of his stack.

“So you fucked the wolf,” he said plainly, catching you off guard and not looking at you anymore. You fumbled your books onto the floor and all you could do was stare at them for a moment before sighing and picking them back up.

“Did he tell you that?”

Jisung laughed sarcastically with an exaggerated nod. He still wouldn't look at you. “Yeah. He told me. That’s, like, all he could tell me. Stupid worm, she’s too good for you, worthless trash, you don’t deserve those bites -- take your pick. It all sucked.”

You reached over and delicately examined the bruise on Jisung’s face, bearing through his grimace and looking him over. It took him a moment to lean into your hand, almost as if he missed you.

“And, of course,” Jisung continued, “he beat the crap out of me, so that was no fun, either. The whole encounter was growling and laughing and so much punching.”

“I’m so sorry, Jisung.” It was a terrible line, but what else could you say? You felt awful, terrible, like you did this to him. Maybe you did. You roped him into this, just like Chan did to you.

“It’s fine. He came to his senses and left when he realized you’re no good to him asleep. No kidding, he said that -- she’s no good to me asleep. What a creep.”

You shook off the uncontrollable shiver that spiked down your back at the thought, that Chan's desperation was affecting him in such a way.

“What even happened between the two of you?” Jisung asked. “Is that why you’re involved in all this?”

“No, Jisung, I promise. I had no idea he was wrapped up in this when I met him and he had no idea I worked at the library.”

“You know you can’t trust him, right?” Jisung gave you a hard stare, shelving the books in his arms and pausing with his arms crossed. You mirrored him.

“Of course. I don’t need you to tell me that.”

“Good. Because that monster killed Shepherd and the last thing I need is you holding a torch for the guy.”

“Excuse me?” You shifted your weight, leaning in to Jisung’s personal space now. His eyebrows raised, part annoyed, part surprised at your intensity. He squared up.

“Which part do you want me to clarify?”

“Start from the top,” you shot back indignantly, keeping toe to toe with him.

“Fine. He killed Shepherd. I got back from the post office and the store was trashed, and the whole pack watched while that creature, that asshole--” Jisung stopped, choked up and still shaken from his recollection. You softened but stood your ground. You still didn’t want to believe him. I care about innocent people getting hurt, they don’t. The words still ricocheted in your skull and garnished every thought that passed. Chan cared if innocent people got hurt, so he couldn't have killed Shepherd. It was as simple as that.

“What did he do, Jisung?” You asked quietly, tamping down the quiver in your voice. You had to know what he believed, see if it made any sort of sense with your understanding of this whole surreal mess.

“Just what I said he did,” Jisung grumbled, still trying to navigate this cloud of grief and confusion hanging over him, “he killed Shep. I got here and the store was a wreck, and Shepherd was trying to fight off that monster. Alone. The rest of the pack was just staring at me, like I was interrupting or something. Your wolf friend was yelling something but I couldn’t even tell what through all that was going on. Next thing I knew, he pushed Shep onto that broken bookshelf over there. Stabbed. Impaled. I told you it wasn't fair, what they did to him. That asshole killed him, and they all watched before they dragged the stupid wolf away.”

Your gaze drifted from Jisung’s misty eyes to the ravaged bookshelf he’d gestured towards, the same you passed on your way into the aisle to find him. Chunks were missing now, likely in some evidence locker somewhere, matching the evidence tags that were left in their place. Your mind pulled in all directions before settling on the one that made the most sense.

“Maybe it wasn’t what it looked like,” you offered after a pregnant pause. Jisung eyes snapped towards you, narrowing in his resumed anger.

“Excuse me?” He asked carefully.

“Maybe it wasn’t what it looked like,” you repeated, getting a little more confident now, “there has to be something you missed. Chan saved my life. He wouldn't have killed Shepherd, and definitely not willingly.”

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Jisung spat with a laugh, “I thought I could trust you.”

“You can!” You threw back. “I just think there has to be more to this.”

“I don't think so,” Jisung scoffed, “it all looks pretty plain to me. But whatever, take that monster’s side. I can do this on my own. I was just fine before you came along, anyhow.”

“If you’d just listen for a second--”

“For what?!” Jisung snapped. You backed up a step as he got more heated. “So you can tell me I didn't see what I'm positive I did? Try to convince me that the scene waking me up every night didn’t really happen? Are you going to tell me this ‘Chan’ is actually some hero? I can’t believe you,” Jisung lamented miserably, “I really can’t.”

Jisung shook his head, turning his back on you as he picked up more books and roughly reshelved them. Each book made a racket as he shoved them back into place. Your fists clenched where your arms were crossed. The tug-of-war happening in your head only worsened. Finally, you turned your back as well. In fact, you walked straight out the door.

Jisung didn’t say a word as you left, stinging more than you’d liked to admit. Only problem was, once you walked out the door, you realized Jisung really was too good to you. The truck was gone. You checked around the back of the store — there really was no sign of it. Even after the brawl with Chan that morning, Jisung still got the truck back to your aunt’s. You bundled up, tucking into your coat with a sigh and beginning the trek up the main road, up towards the A-frame up in the hills. The hike would probably be no problem with so much on your mind.

Why were you suddenly so concerned with Chan being innocent or not? He was a pig, a horrid dog with a regrettably handsome face and charming personality that more than likely wanted nothing more than to play nice until you gave in and fed on him again. You could see right through him the other night in the front yard, pretending to be so sweet and so sincere that all you could see was desperation. So, then, why did your mind keep tumbling through your memories and pulling up how he looked the night you’d met, the way he’d smiled at you across the bar, the way he’d looked at you after he was able to leave you alive at the library? It felt ridiculous to think that Chan might be a cold-blooded murderer, but why? Just because he told you he’s a good guy? No, you realized, he could very well be the monster Jisung insisted he was, and you were probably a blind fool for ever denying it.

Something in the way Jisung had spat the word was eating at you. Monster. Jisung wasn’t lying to you.You didn’t doubt that he saw Shepherd die. However, whether it was by Chan’s sole doing you still couldn’t bring yourself to be sure.

The conflicting ideologies bounced around in your head as you climbed the hill to your aunt’s house, arms crossed in an attempt to shield yourself from the cold. Now you were just consumed with the look in Jisung’s eyes when you’d fed on him. What was keeping you from being a monster? Did you look just as lost as he did? Were you just as broken, reeling and coping from such recent proximity to death? Jisung’s admission of being really fucking lonely now hit a little too close to home for your liking. You’d been lonely for a while now, too. It was easy to be a recluse when almost all your friends from your previous life were day-dwellers and you were still too ashamed to reveal yourself to your family. Maybe wanting to find your way again was what was keeping you from being a monster. You’d hoped so, because the feeling was beginning to become too familiar. You’d finally found someone close to a kindred spirit for the first time in a couple years, so why were you insistent on doubting him? It was all too much. Instead of going straight inside the creaky old house, you rounded back to the patio, pulling up a seat at the fire pit. Suddenly, your aunt appeared on the back porch, wrapped in a blanket with two mugs of coffee.

“Hey!” She called out, “Did you just come out here? I thought you were still in your room when I saw the truck in the yard but I finally went to your room today and you were gone! I've been wondering where you are all day. I got up to see you! Were you out with a boy? I heard word at the diner that you've been palling around with Mr. Shepherd’s boy.” She gushed, hitting you like a fire hose and topping it off with an actual wink.

You blushed, sinking into your chair as she rushed over and pulled up a seat next to you. Now you were suddenly feeling very aware that you were wearing yesterday’s clothes. Did she know that? Your aunt was just as warm and welcoming as ever, expressing how much she missed you now that you were nocturnal. How could you see that sunrise you loved so much as a child? If only she knew how far down that sentiment stung. She asked if you thought you’d like to see a therapist. You know, because of your aversion to sleep. Her support caught you by surprise. Would she understand if you explained more? You knew you were still too scared to try, but you couldn’t help but hold onto some hope. You drifted through the conversation, oddly confronted and comforted at the same time at how she insisted on reaching out. As you finally bid her goodnight and climbed into bed, you felt restless, cramped and worried thinking of both Chan and Jisung and wondering if they were alright.

You stayed in bed when you awoke the next night. Whether it was out of spite or stress, you weren't sure, but you were done for the day and it had just started. That is, until a rumble sounded in the driveway. Your aunt could be heard opening the front door, squealing a cheerful greeting to someone.

Jisung?

You slumped out of bed and pulled on a sweater and some jeans, barely retaining the stamina to deal with this as you headed downstairs. The sound of your aunt’s gushing preceded your shock at just what you were seeing in the yard.

Jisung stood in front of a gorgeous car, an old Shelby Mustang in starkly perfect condition. Jisung was a sight as well with his hair pushed back, a simple black jacket revealing a pressed shirt and tie underneath. You were taken aback, caught off guard by how handsomely he cleaned up until he grabbed your attention.

“It's so nice to see you, too,” he placated your aunt as he gestured towards you, “but do you mind if I--?”

“If you--? Oh! Of course, you two go right on ahead,” she practically fluttered waving you both off as Jisung smiled cordially. His eyes were screaming. He reached forward, grabbing the cuff of your sleeve and pulling you off the porch and leading you back around to the fire pit again. You looked back over your shoulder, to him, and back to the car again.

“Where did you-- why are you--” you stammered as he tugged you along. You resumed your previous seat at the fire pit, this time Jisung taking your aunt's place.

“I've had a weird day. I knew Shep’s will was going to be executed, but I didn't realize it would be today.”

“You didn't?”

“No. A lawyer showed up to the house this morning and invited me to come back to his office. No one else was there. Just me.”

“So you got--?”

“Everything.” Jisung’s eyes were wild at the re-telling. You didn’t blame him. It was a lot to take. “The house, the store, his money… The car. I've never seen it before but sure enough the lawyer just had it there for me.”

“Jisung,” you soothed, finally reaching a hand forward to put on his knee, “that’s really exciting. Mr. Shepherd really cared about you.”

Jisung stared at your hand on his knee, but he didn’t move it. “There was more. A journal.”

“A journal?” You asked quizzically. He nodded furiously.

“A journal. Shepherd’s. It was on the driver's seat when I got in. It starts maybe fifty years ago, and it was awful, it--” Jisung bit the rest of his sentence down, unable to go on and his chest filled with panic. You let go of his knee, this time gently facing him towards you by the shoulders.

“Jisung,” you softly called out to him, and he looked at you, shaken but grounded again.

“It mentions a first journal,” he tried again, “but I don’t know where it could be. I tore the house apart looking for it. He mentioned bookkeeping along with it, so I checked his office maybe five times. It’s a wreck by now.”

“What about the store?”

“I wouldn't know where to begin,” Jisung shrugged helplessly.

“Take me with you,” you offered. “We’ll come up with something.”

Jisung waited on the porch while you made yourself a little more presentable, unable to escape the prying assumptions of your aunt and join you upstairs. It wasn’t like he could just tell her, ‘you’re absolutely right, I had sex with your niece and I like her a lot but maybe not like you're hoping.’ He was stuck politely nodding and awkwardly making small talk when you came running down the stairs and out the door, now with a jacket and some proper shoes on.

Jisung was quiet as he drove and you took a moment to just admire him, how natural he looked in the car and how good it was to see him despite the bruise still healing on his cheek. Before too long, though, you were distracted with how disquieted he looked.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” you gently suggested.

He thought hard about this, chewing on his lip as he considered what to say. “It’s the journal. It’s… It’s worrying. It suggests some things I was never prepared for.”

“Like what?” You asked, concern welling up inside your gut and practically weighing you down to the seat.

“Like…” He really considered it, choosing his words carefully. “Suggesting that maybe you were on to something. But I need to be sure.”

Jisung pulled the car into the alley behind the shop and got out, making a show of actually unlocking the back door. “Apparently,” he sighed sarcastically as he flipped through keys, “not keeping your doors locked is a bad habit to get into and an even harder habit to break than I thought. I'm still forgetting.”

“Small town syndrome?” You half-grinned.

“Worse. I'm learning I'm really bad with locks in general.”

You shared a laugh as he finally got the right key in the lock and let you both in. A shiver forced its way down your back: the store felt even colder than the last time you were in here for some reason, physically or not you couldn't tell. Jisung reached into his jacket and produced a small, thick, leather-bound journal and leaned against the door frame leading into the store.

“Like I said,” he sighed, “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“You said the journal mentions bookkeeping along with the first volume. Do you have a safe?”

“Sure, but I don’t have the combo on me. Any other ideas until then?”

“Well,” you shrugged, already seeing where this was going, “can I see the journal?”

“Oh, come on, you don’t need to do--”

It was too late. You grabbed onto the spine of the journal and attempted to slide it out of his hands before he stopped you, his fingers tight around your wrist. “Please,” he gently pleaded, “just trust me. I'm not ready yet.”

You stared hard at Jisung before giving in to yourself and leaning in, your wrist pulling in his grip to wrestle him closer and kiss his parted lips. He stared back at you, almost like he was wondering just where you got an idea like that… Until you slipped the journal from his distracted hands. A small key fell from within the spine of the binding and clattered to the floor between you.

“Not fair,” Jisung whined, “that’s a dirty trick.”

“And it got results,” you teased sympathetically, “now what would this go to?”

“I have no idea,” he wondered, “I didn’t even realize it was in there.”

“Bookkeeping, right?” You asked, as you handed him back the journal. He nodded, looking thankful as he tucked it back into his jacket. You scanned the room, thinking of where a small key could go when your eyes landed on the roll top desk you had first noticed the other night. Jisung’s eyes followed you as you crossed the floor to the desk. The top opened just fine, revealing the contents of the desk to you in dusty but otherwise fine condition. You began tugging on drawers to see if anything was stuck. Finally, a small set of drawers wouldn't budge as you pulled and you lined up the tiny key with the petite keyhole. Jisung’s eyes widened as you produced another small journal from the drawer, just like the one you’d handed back to him. He reached for it, giving you a puzzled look as you held it back from him, pressing it to your chest.

“Jisung,” you said gently, stepping forward to take his hand, “you have to trust me, too. I want to know what's going on.”

“I know, I do, too,” he struggled, “I just don't want… I'm not ready.”

“You won't be,” you reassured him as you leaned in to kiss his brow, “but I'm here.”

Jisung nodded as you led him by the hand through the door and back onto the shop floor. You leaned against the front counter under the lamp there to gently pry open the old journal.

3 May, 1922 --

A crash came banging through the back door. You both jumped and Jisung fumbled for his keys.

“Oh fuck,” he frantically muttered, “I didn't lock the door behind us--” He pulled you away from the counter, ready to run when a voice came from the back room.

“Wait! Wait,” Chan breathed, taking in lungfuls of air as he held himself up against the door frame.

“What do you want?” You asked sternly, stepping in front of Jisung even as he moved to step in front of you himself.

“I -- the others -- they're coming for you.”

Jisung did step in front of you now. “Why are they doing that?”

“After the other night,” Chan panted, “we all met up, they smelled you on me, I didn't even think of it when I went to see them, and now they're looking for you and I couldn't stop--”

“‘The other night’?” Jisung asked you over his shoulder, cut off as the front door of the shop rang. Jisung winced.

“Jesus Christ, Jisung,” you groaned sharply, even as Jisung turned you around and stepped back in front of you. You both watched as Chan strode around, ahead of you, head high and confident after he finally caught his breath.

“What a good boy, Chan, leading us right here,” the man up front cloyingly greeted. The pack was here.

“Get out, Rand, I told you all you don't need her. There's tons of them out there.”

“Tons of them out there, but none right here in town. Except her,” the man pointed right at you and you felt trapped, exposed, the breath freezing in your chest. “Less work to do if we have her right here at our disposal.”

“Not her, Rand,” Chan ordered. The man poked at Chan’s chest and shoved him out of the way. Two wolves grabbed onto Chan, holding him back as he struggled. He pointed at Jisung now. You could feel him freeze where you held onto the sleeve of his jacket.

“You, boy,” Rand called over. Jisung stayed firmly in place. “Chan forgets he's not the leader. I'm the one who takes care of our dealings. My condolences for Mr. Shepherd; he was a good man, but we never got to finish negotiating. That's why we're here. Give us the girl and tell us the information we're owed, and we'll leave. We'll get out of town.”

“And if I don't?” Jisung called back down the aisle of the store. He was doing his best to sound big, as if he was confident and had any idea what was going on. Your eyes darted to the splintered bookshelf that had ended Mr. Shepherd.

“Then we'll just take her, clean out the store, and leave you to rot,” Rand chuckled. “One of these books has to have what we need. And how long before someone in this town even cares that you're gone?”

“Enough, Rand,” Chan warned, “get out or--”

“Or what?” He asked him simply, striding forward to get in Jisung’s space. He was tall, with broad shoulders on his slim frame, a scratchy beard unable to hide a thick scar on his neck. He looked down at Jisung. “I honestly am sorry for what happened to Shepherd. We don't want trouble. Give her to us and tell us--”

Rand spat out a curse as Jisung promptly spat in his face. Jisung looked back over his shoulder to you once again. “Get in the car,” he ordered. You nodded, slipping your hands into his jacket pockets to search for the keys before Jisung shoved the larger man back, only for Rand to lift him, effortlessly, and toss him against the counter. Jisung grunted as he crumpled to the ground, scrambling to grab the journal that had fallen from his jacket. He reached for it, crying out as Rand pressed a boot to his hand and picked it up. You looked behind you towards the door -- one of the pack members had circled back through the other aisles to block your way out.

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be petulant, boy,” Rand scolded as he lifted his foot off Jisung’s hand and grabbed onto the collar of his shirt. Jisung struggled as he was lifted back to his feet. Rand held up the journal with a dark grin. “This wouldn’t happen to be what I think it is, would it?”

The wolf behind you capitalized on the thick silence of the room, suddenly lurching behind you and getting ahold of your arms. You screamed, silenced by the wolf’s hand over your mouth as you struggled. The wolf dragged you closer and he and Rand traded: you were thrust into the larger man’s arms as Jisung was held back now. You shared frantic glances with Chan and Jisung as the taller man looked down on you. One of the wolves holding onto Chan was younger, maybe Jisung’s age, freckled face stricken with fear as he and Chan had a hushed argument.

“When did Shepherd bring you here, little one?”

You scrunched up your nose, wincing as he brought his face closer. He smelled like rotten veal and something you couldn’t quite place, almost like kerosene. “He didn’t bring me here,” you gruffly told him, praying you sounded more confident than you felt, “I didn’t know of him before I got here.”

“Lies,” Rand shook his head as he leaned in, breathing you in as he sneered back at Chan. “She’s lovely, Chan. We never should've left her back at the library.”

“Let her go, Rand,” Chan feebly warned again.

“Or what, runt? You’ll leave? More for us.”

Chan tried to step forward as Jisung continued to struggle, but both boys stopped when Rand pulled your head back by the hair, bending you back down over the counter. “Careful, boys. I'm feeling a bit hungry. Wouldn’t want to make it worse, would you?”

You whimpered, trying hard to pry Rand’s hand off of you before the other also gripped your throat.

“Now,” Rand lined out, his thumb rubbing circles over your throat as he looked back at Chan, “I'm doing this to teach you a lesson. We each have our property, our territory. We will all get our use out of her, but I'm the one taking her with us. She's mine now.”

It was quick, Rand’s fingers tugging the collar of your sweater down and his teeth on your shoulder, sinking in, the pain searing through your brain before his words ever did. The scream that escaped you was unnatural, purely animal as Rand bit into you, his teeth twisting to ensure the flesh was mangled. He stood up, looking pleased as Chan stood behind him, stunned and infuriated. Rand dove in for another bite, only to be interrupted as Jisung finally threw off the wolf holding him and barreled forward into you both. The hand on your throat let up just enough for you to drive a knee between yourself and the larger man, but you could hardly stand at the moment. Jisung had somehow managed to wrestle Rand onto the ground, fueled by rage that caused him to land blow after blow to his face. Blue and red flashing lights glowed through the front window -- apparently someone had heard all the commotion. A wolf reached forward, picking you up over his shoulder and trying to carry you off as you kicked and screamed the best you could. Chan took the moment to shake off the two wolves holding him back, lunging forward to get the wolf to drop you when you heard the distinct click of a knife. The two stood off, trying to figure out the best tactic when Chan charged, spooking the wolf into toppling over with you in tow. The blade drove right into your thigh as you dropped to the ground, adding a whole new level of stinging pain to what you were still reeling from. Jisung was still pummeling the older man and you watched, a ragdoll in Chan’s arms as he picked you up and herded you to the door.

“Jisung!” You yelled back, trying to wriggle out of Chan’s grip.

“Go!” Jisung yelled, dropping his guard long enough for Rand to get a hold of him again. It was as if the larger man hadn't just been battered with how effortlessly he grabbed Jisung by the hair and knocked him into the counter ledge. The sickening crack was the last thing you heard as Chan dragged you to Jisung’s car and pushed you inside. He dug into your pockets for the keys and jabbed them into the ignition, the car rumbling to life around you as he stomped on the gas.

Your vision was fuzzy as you got a look at Chan in the passing streetlights. You wondered when he had gotten attacked, how he came to be covered in so much blood -- before you realized it was your own. The leather of the bench seat was cold where you lay, your head up against the door. Chan was still breathing hard, and he took his sleeve to wipe some errant blood that had ended up on his chin.

“How are you doing?” He asked, eyes fixed on the road.

“Just fucking dying,” you laughed meanly, and you realized you were wheezing. “I can't believe you got me into this.”

“Look,” Chan sighed frustratedly, “I did my best to warn you.”

“I don't need to hear it,” you hoarsely shot back, “just get me somewhere where I can lie down and maybe get some rest.”

“That's what I'm doing,” Chan grumbled. “I know you're mad at me, but can you try to be tolerant of my existence long enough for me to make sure you're okay?”

“Whatever,” you huffed. Chan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing as you grabbed his handkerchief out of your pocket and pressed it to your shoulder.

“I'm just glad you're safe,” he remarked, still not quite looking at you. He bounced his left knee as he chewed on his lip.

“Are you alright?”

You wished you didn't care.

“I'm fine; it's stupid. It's just this full moon coming up.”

You looked up, out the window over your head. The moon was hanging heavy in the sky, almost threatening in how full it was. You looked back at Chan. He agitatedly wiped at your blood on his skin again, even with only a ghost of it remaining.

“I deserve to know what's happening,” you said, looking down your nose at him. Chan sighed.

“I can't tell you what we stole from Shepherd,” he began, “because we didn't steal anything from him. That night at the shop, we brought him the books he told us to take from the university.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Then what happened? How does a job like that turn into flat-out murder?”

“Shepherd's fucking crazy,” Chan shook his head. “Rand has been running jobs like this for years, but getting all these books for Shepherd has been insane. But it always seemed worth it. I totally got it, and I was always able to hold my cover, but that night… We gave him the last books. And he told us what we needed to get next.”

“What was it, Chan…” You asked, unsure if you wanted to hear the answer. The whole thing sounded ludicrous.

“Vampires. He wanted us to bring him vampires. One each for anyone who wanted a cut. Young, healthy, live vampires. And Shepherd mentioned plenty living back at the university and… I guess Rand noticed me remembering you.”

Your hands clenched. You couldn't believe what Chan was trying to pull on you. Whether you were feeling sick from losing so much blood or hearing this information, you couldn’t tell. The whole thing was so ridiculous. But, you figured, there was no sense in not humoring him. “What happened, Chan?”

“I… I tried to stop it,” he explained, his voice shaky now, “I tried to tell Rand this is wrong and I tried to tell Shepherd we weren't interested. The old man pulled a fucking gun on me. Who knows what was loaded in there. He said we were in too deep to back out now, and--”

“You killed him.”

“... I killed him.”

You paused, taking in the sight of Chan driving Jisung’s car before you realized you were parked now. Chan had pulled back around to the parking lot of an old motel on the side of the road, long forgotten for being too far from the town proper for tourists. As it existed now, the building had persisted long after being consumed by opportunistic graffiti artists and vandals. You tried to shake off your dizziness.

“Where are we?” You asked quietly.

“Somewhere safe,” he replied, “where me and one of the others have been hiding out off and on. He’s new, newer than I am. He’s taken this life so much harder than even I did… So I shouldn’t be surprised he ratted out where I was to Rand the other night.”

“He sold you out?”

“Felix is scared. He was turned and his family threw him out. He just wants to do what he can to survive. I can’t fault him for that.”

“Chan,” you murmured, “I'm so tired.”

“I know, princess,” he sighed, “let’s get you inside.” You glared at him for the pet name, but nonetheless you didn’t fight him as he opened the door and pulled you out and into his arms. He carried you through the decrepit lobby, down the rear staircase and winding through the cold concrete hall until he reached the boiler room, barely lit by a few camping lanterns. Here, a couple makeshift beds were fashioned from mattresses dragged from upstairs, shoved up against the pipes that lined the room. He gently set your limp body down on the edge of the mattress, his eyes wandering over your bloodied form. He tugged off your coat and dropped it to the floor, the material thunking on the cold concrete from the journal concealed in the pocket. Next, he peeled off your soaked sweater, your thin tank top underneath only marginally dryer from the wound on your shoulder. His straying eyes lingered at the bite, his fingers twitching where they reached for the button of your jeans.

“What the hell are you doing?” You asked.

“You were stabbed, idiot,” he sighed as he shook himself out of it, “I need to look at it.”

“It’s fine, you dumb fucking dog--” you ranted, cut off into a hail of curses as Chan raised an eyebrow and stuck his thumb against the wound. You grumbled as you slapped his other hand away from your jeans and unbuttoned them yourself. He untied your boots and set them on the floor before he pulled this layer off of you as well, the denim sticking to the congealing blood and making you grimace. He paused at your exposed thigh, the wound shining. You saw the rise and fall of his shoulders shake as he took in the sight, the smell of you under him. Your foot jabbed into his chest.

“Don’t fucking think about it,” you warned.

“I’m sorry,” he lamented, “I really am.”

“Tell me what you were trying to get from Shepherd,” you prodded, trying to get back on track, “tell me what the vampires are for.” You had to know. Your feelings rested on the precipice of hatred and you had to know. Your head was reeling still. Chan stared hard at you, almost silently preparing you or himself, or perhaps both.

“... A cure for this. Something to turn us human,” he murmured. You stared, aghast, a fire igniting into blazes in your gut. You watched as Chan unwittingly tried to distract you. “I figured it out, by the way -- what else you smell like. What I couldn’t place. It’s a fox. You smell like a fox that hung around my grandmother's garden when I was growing up.”

Your hard gaze softened at his charming sincerity, but that blaze in your belly only grew. Still, your voice was soft, almost sweet. “Chan,” you quietly pleaded, “I’m so tired.”

Chan was snapped out of his aimless, distressed staring as he regarded you. He quickly nodded and got his arms around you to lift you into a better position in his bed. His warm scent of veal and mahogany lit you up, danced around your senses like an old friend, but it only served to pull you further down. You were upset. You were furious. You were weak and famished.

“What the fuc--!” Chan sharply cursed, frozen as you sank your teeth into his neck. He tried to pull back away from you, only for you to yank him down, between your legs and pushing you back down against the mattress. He almost cried out again, only to be interrupted by you withdrawing your teeth and piercing him once more. You realized you were moaning. The blood washing down your tongue and throat instantly gave you a head rush.

“I was so hungry,” you groaned against his throat, “after everything you put me through tonight, I'm starving.”

He shoved off of you, landing on his ass on the concrete and scrambling back as you felt confident enough to stand again. He slapped a hand down to his leaking neck. “I can help you,” he quickly offered, “we can do that, but you just need to calm down first--”

“No, Chan,” you shook your head, taking your time closing in on him as he continued to back up, “I can’t. I can’t believe you’d try to pull this on me and try to get me to believe this crock of shit.”

“What part sounds like shit?!”

“The part where you just happen to be a good guy for killing an old man. A cure? For lycanthropy? You might have had a chance before that.”

“It’s true,” he sputtered defensively, but you could see his eyes in the dim lanterns illuminating the room: fully blown out, eager to fulfill either of your bloodlusts.

“How could a vampire cure you?” You asked flatly, not caring for any answer but just enjoying watching him squirm.

“He didn’t tell us!”

“Because you killed him? You’re a monster, Chan,” you seethed as you stood over him.

“No, I'm not,” he feebly shook his head. You simply nodded.

“Yes, you are. You’re a fucking monster, and nothing can change that. I didn’t choose to be like this, just like I didn’t choose to get dragged into this. My life has been taken from me twice now, and you’re responsible for this one.”

“Please, I’m sorry,” Chan begged, “tell me what to do.”

“I can’t tell you what to do,” you said, curious as to where this grin on your face came from. You were positively incensed, but you were burning. You were excited. “But I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I’m going to fucking tear you apart.”

Chan finally tried to scramble to his feet, only to be halted and trip on the chilled concrete as you stepped onto one of his loose shoelaces. The strength coursing through you confounded you as you drew close, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket and shoving him back onto the mattress.

“What are you going to do?” He asked timidly, and that boy from the bar all those nights ago was gone. Staring up at you was a trapped animal, eyes wide and shaking. The only difference was the electric hunger lying behind this thin veil of fear. He gulped as you climbed onto the bed and sank onto his lap, his Adam's apple bobbing and catching in his throat.

“Oh, Chan,” you sighed as you melted against him, “I'm going to eat you alive.”

Chan froze, one hand clutching the sheets and the other gripping your waist as your teeth pierced his neck again. He cried out, in ecstasy and pain, his legs stiffening under you as his whole body clenched.

“Look where your animal instincts got me, you stupid dog,” you laughed meanly. He watched, engrossed as he was confronted again by your thin tank top, soaked with the blood leaking from Rand’s bite. Just with what you'd drank from Chan so far, you had already begun to heal. Now you would just be left with a nasty scar from the older wolf. You grabbed Chan’s hand and made him feel it, his fingers touching the healing bumps and scars. He winced. “See, you dumb mutt? You let another wolf try to claim me.”

“I would've never--”

“Too late, Channie,” you condescended as you leaned back down and dragged your teeth over his skin, “he said I was going to be his. What would that mean in your world? Would he eat me? Fuck me? Breed me?”

You let out another hysterical laugh as Chan growled, nearly roaring before you bit into him again. His rage instantly snuffed out into pleasure as he mindlessly rutted his hips up against you.

“I would've never let that happen,” Chan panted between guttural moans, “he'd have to kill me before I let that happen.”

“But it almost did happen, you stupid runt.”

Chan did let out a roar now, catching you off guard as he rolled on top of you. “Never call me that again, you awful leech,” he gritted before his own teeth trailed just below your existing mark, to just under your collarbone. He hesitated. You did as well, feeling this bizarrely tender moment of the animal in Chan wanting so desperately to share how he felt about you. Instead of his teeth, though, it was just his lips, gently pressing to your skin. “He can’t take you from me,” he breathed against you, “no one can. You're mine.”

Despite the reignited fury in your chest, it was your turn to moan as Chan’s hips still furiously ground against your dampening panties. You shoved him onto his back once again, clambering back onto his hips and whipping his belt out from his jeans before looping the leather around his scrambling wrists, fighting to push you back off.

“What makes you say that?” You spat as you tied his wrists to one of the pipes behind his makeshift bed, “What makes you think you just get to claim me like that?”

You cut off one of Chan’s likely cheeky remarks as you unbuttoned his flannel shirt under his jacket, getting a good look at his sculpted chest before your own teeth grazed over his collarbones. “I knew it from that night at the bar, and you were such a fucking bitch,” he laughed under his breath, “you tried to just feed on me before--” His breath caught in his throat as an actual whimper as your teeth dragged along his collarbones. “And when I said goodbye to you in the library, I knew you were mine. No one else's, not Rand’s, not that stupid worm you're hanging out with--”

“But didn't you see, Chan?” You cruelly teased him, your grinding only working his jeans lower on his hips now that his belt was gone. He tugged at his impromptu restraints. “Didn't you see him hold me down and take a bite out of me in front of everyone?”

“I did,” he whined, eyes screwed shut through his moans, “and I wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill him right then and there.”

“Are you sure you're not a monster?” You smirked. “That worm’s name is Jisung by the way, and I like him.”

Chan pulled uselessly at his wrists, blood pooling under his neck and into his hair on the sheets. He smelled perfect, almost unreal, and it felt like you were trapped under ice, like you were at the mercy of whatever was compelling you at the moment. You easily popped the button of Chan’s jeans and yanked his zipper down, a whimpered cry escaping him as you got his warm length in your hand.

“I don't care if you like him,” Chan gritted out, an errant drip of sweat falling from his brow, “you know you're mine.”

“Are you sure? Because he doesn't call me a stupid leech when he fucks me.”

Chan thrashed underneath you, only resulting in thrusting up into your tight grip. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“No, darling,” you condescended, “who knew I'd enjoy someone being gentle with me?”

“Stop pushing me there!” Chan begged, crying out again as you leaned in to bite him once more. He was right; you were endlessly provoking him, but it was terrific. You reached between your legs, moving your panties aside just enough for Chan’s cock to nudge up against you. He watched, hopelessly enraptured as you moaned at the feeling.

“Where am I pushing you?” You asked. “Jealousy? Are you jealous thinking of Jisung fucking me?”

“Yes,” Chan pathetically whined as he uselessly tried to thrust up into you.

“Are you jealous thinking of Rand claiming me?”

“Yes,” Chan moaned desperately, whimpering as you barely sank lower on his leaking cock.

“Why are you jealous?” You cruelly provoked.

“Because you're mine,” he groaned. “You’re mine, I can feel it when I look at you. I feel it in my fucking skin.”

“Good boy,” you grinned darkly as you rolled your hips down onto his, taking his length deep inside you and immediately riding him into the sheets. Chan cried out, looking pale from the blood that had drained from the multiple marks you’d made on his neck.

More, begged a little voice in you, lying somewhere behind your conscience and reasoning.

You obliged, your fingers curling into his hair and pulling his head to the side as you bit into him again.

“What if I told you I feel safe with Jisung? I don’t have to worry about him trying to eat me or getting mixed up in bullshit like this.”

“You feel safe with Jisung because he’s weak,” Chan insisted, his breath coming out in tortured gasps, “he can’t protect you like I can. Come on, please let me fuck you. I missed you.”

“Be patient and be grateful, you dumb dog. And Jisung doesn’t have to protect me,” you shook your head, “because this is the most trouble he’s ever been in. And you’re a part of that trouble.”

“I just need to get you away from Rand,” he groaned as he rolled his hips up against yours.

“That isn’t the problem, Chan,” you admonished as you bucked your hips back down on his. It was difficult, focusing past the little voice in your mind and the blissful ecstasy coursing through you as you fucked Chan, his blood and his cock in you making you feel effervescent. Your orgasm lay somewhere with that small voice, waiting. “You think I'm afraid of some big, bad, wolf?” You laughed cruelly at Chan fighting wildly against his restraints underneath you.

More, the small voice within you whispered, he can take it.

Your hips slowed on his and he looked up at you, eyes wide and uncertain.

“You really do feel that way,” you marveled quietly as you melted down against his bare chest. “You really want me even after all this.” You nuzzled the ravaged skin of his neck before slowly, gently kissing his lips. Chan was silent, almost reverent as your kiss lingered.

“I want you,” he nodded earnestly, almost drunk, tipping his chin up to press his lips to yours again. “You’re mine.”

“Does that make you mine then?” You asked him as you began working your tight heat up and down his dripping length. Despite the little voice goading you to move on, you were actually curious for his answer.

He nodded sincerely. “Yes, I'm all yours.”

“Since when?” You asked, watching his little shivers at each moan that escaped you.

“Since I knew you were mine,” he groaned, now only holding onto his restraints instead of pulling. His words made your head spin, but you couldn’t tell if it was the sentimentality or the absurdity or the sincerity of it that was doing it for you. It could’ve been all three. All you knew was that you didn’t want it. Not now. Not when you needed to focus on getting out of town now. The little voice in your mind coughed up again.

Do it, it urged, teach him a lesson.

You bounced harder on Chan’s cock, savoring the way he fit up inside you and lusting over each moan for you he gave. Having him unravel for you fueled you in no way you predicted, this animal completely at your mercy and yours for the taking. He whimpered and whined and groaned for you, hissing under his breath as you dragged your nails down his defined chest and abdomen. He looked so pretty for being so drained, hardly enough blood in him to flush his cheeks and so breathless every hushed curse was hoarse. Meanwhile, you felt more alive than you had in years. Your orgasm was coming in hot and you relished the sensation. Chan watched you expectantly as you kissed him again, your lips trailing down to his neck and ultimately his clavicles. His eyes closed, now pliantly letting you drag your teeth over his skin. This was the longest they’d ever been extended.

“The only problem with all this,” you whispered, fighting through your pre-orgasm haze, “is I don’t belong to anyone.”

Chan’s eyes shot open as you sank your teeth into his chest, crunching and twisting as Rand had done to you. It had the desired effect, shocking Chan into the perfect orgasm to push your own. He screamed as you did, his knuckles white where he gripped the belt tying him to the pipes lining the room. His orgasm flowed hot into you and you were almost lost in the fog still clouding your mind before you realized how much blood was spilling from the wound. You instantly sobered, suddenly aware of what you'd done. Your fingers reached for him but stopped, wavering moments away. A cough hacked from Chan’s chest, small flecks of blood dotting his lips from when he must've bitten into his cheek.

“Oh god, Chan--” you breathed, horrified at the sight of him.

Fine, the little voice fought back, he's a wolf. He'll be fine. Tomorrow should be a full moon and he'll be good as new.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” He asked, a drunk roused from his sleep.

He looked as good as dead. Chan gasped for breath as you slid off his lap, hair matted to his forehead with sweat and any color he had left gone. You stared, wondering just where the hell you got an idea like that from.

“Are you okay?” You asked quietly, unsure of what to do.

“Me? I'm fine, just fucking dying.” Chan smirked tiredly at you and you thrust your hands in his pockets for the keys and stumbled off the bed, still unbelieving of what you just did. Rand hadn't drained you of most of your blood before ripping into you. Now Chan’s breath was shallow in his chest as your hands desperately searched for your clothes. “Starting to think I'm not the only monster here,” Chan mused.

“What're you talking about?”

“I didn’t tell you about the fox you smell like, because it wasn't like any of the ones I caught or hunted with my granddad growing up.”

You warily stood after loosely pulling on your boots, backing up to the door of the boiler room.

“You smell like a special fox,” he continued, still struggling to catch his breath, “that would come poking around the garden looking for food. Until one day, it killed my grandmother's favorite hen. And she was livid. She charges out of the kitchen with a shotgun, and she blasts the stupid thing and she buries it.” Chan laughed, almost as if you were just sharing stories over beers and not watching him bleeding all over the bed.

“My granddad threw a fucking fit,” Chan chuckled grimly, “because burying it will only bring more trouble. And it does. But she insists it’s good for the soil, and it’ll serve as some lesson to the others. For weeks my grandmother is blasting away vermin and knocking pots and pans together to get foxes and wolves and bears away from her garden, until one night my granddad drags me out of bed and makes me hold a lantern as he unburies this fox and throws it out to the treeline.”

You could swear you could see your breath, you or the room were so frozen.

“That’s what you smell like, princess,” Chan smirked, “this dead thing that belonged in the ground, but not where it was buried. Just bringing more trouble. Cardamom, lilies, and trouble. And look at me... Face it, you’re a monster. That’s why you’re mine.”

Enough. You shook out your jacket and threw it on, running down the hall as Chan laughed behind you. You ran up the stairs and through the lobby, and you ran as you burst through the front door, gasping as you were faced with the freckled boy from the pack. He stared back at you.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, and ran to the car, jumping in and revving the engine. The car barreled back towards town, but you were so dizzy you weren't even convinced you were driving. Chan wasn’t going to make it, and you ran. There was no way he’d survive the night, and you had abandoned him. Why did you care? You didn't care. You still hated him. Even if you were his. Even if that was bullshit. But he didn't deserve to die like this.

The car pulled into the alley behind the shop and you tried to open the door before you found it locked. You flipped through the keys and wrenched open the door, stumbling in.

“Jisung!” You yelled, running into the store. Jisung popped up from the couch, gladly accepting you as you ran into his arms.

“Oh my god,” he breathed as he held you tight, “I'm so glad you’re okay, you’re -- what happened to you?”

You stepped back, following his gaze down. You were covered in more blood than when you left.

“Did Chan do this to you?” He immediately started in as he shook his head in disbelief. His bandaged fingers started examining you, wavering at the healed bite you’d suffered earlier that night. “I can’t fucking believe it. What did he do to you? I had my doubts when he was taking you, I wanted to stop it--”

“Jisung.”

“What?” He looked up, bewildered at the tears welling in your eyes.

“He didn’t do anything… I did.” You fell back into Jisung’s arms and he put his confusion aside to comfort you the best he could. He guided you down to the couch and sat with you beside him. The tears stinging your cheeks felt so similar to the tears you shed the night you were first turned. He held you close, and you got a good look at the stitches on his brow, a nice addition to the black eye that still never finished healing.

“Oh, Jisung,” you sighed as you looked at it.

“It’s fine,” he shook his head, “the wolves scattered after the cops showed. The cops haven't believed me until now, so when the medics came I told them it was just an attempted smash-and-grab.”

“At least we have the journals,” you attempted to lighten up. Tomorrow was a full moon. Chan would be fine.

“Not quite,” Jisung admitted.

“What?”

“I don't remember anything that happened between telling you to run, and the cops questioning me. I searched the store when I got a chance. The first journal is gone. But at least we still have the one from the desk.”

You dug into your jacket pockets, freezing when you all you felt were Jisung’s keys.

“Jesus,” you breathed, “it’s fucking gone.”

“Holy shit!” Jisung exclaimed, making you jump. “Where the fuck do we go from here? How do we protect you if the last people we want to are there ones who have the answers?!”

“Jisung!” You shouted back, getting his attention back as you grabbed his hands. “I have to get out of town. If I can go in the direction of an answer, that's better than nothing. I need you to tell me anything from the journal.”

Jisung stared hard at you, nursing at his bottom lip before he ultimately nodded. “I… The journal mentions a girl. She worked for Shepherd for a few summers until she graduated from the university… She worked in the research department as well.”

The confusion that sprouted from information like that only sat in your gut, with no momentum. “Just a girl?”

“A vampire. But by the end of the diary she's fucking dead.”

“Jisung, tell me her name--”

“Why?”

“Because if her name is Lia, she's still alive.” You got up, dusting yourself off as Jisung stared wondrously up at you. “I’m a mess, so if I can crash at your place before I get out of town--”

“Why aren’t I coming with you?”

“Why do you want to?”

Jisung sighed, looking around at the bookshop, destroyed numerous times by now. “There’s nothing for me here. Not right now. There’s some closure if I go with you. Let me come with you.”

“Are you sure, Jisung?”

“I am,” he nodded, taking the keys from your hand with a small smile, “I'm all yours.”

[To be continued.]

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