Page 16 of Cursed Alien

“You’ll need to show me around properly,” she said. “I need to see the central power core, any backup generators, and the main junction boxes.”

He nodded, oddly pleased by her competence. He gestured toward the door, indicating she should precede him.

As they left the ballroom, he cast one last look over his shoulder. The memory of his advisor’s warning nagged at him, but the details remained frustratingly out of reach.

The curse of the unmated…

What had he forgotten? And why did it feel so important now, with this human female in his keep?

The beast didn’t care about the past. It lived in the now, and now, the female was here. His territory felt right with her in it.

But as more of his rational side surfaced, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d made this mistake before—letting pride rule him, rejecting what he needed most.

As they walked, the beast and the male warred within him. The beast wanted only to keep her in his territory, to guard her presence. The male wanted… what? To understand? To remember? To be free of this form that trapped him between worlds?

Or perhaps, most disturbing of all, to be seen as something more than a monster by the female who now walked these halls with him.

He watched as she examined everything with keen interest, her hands quick and sure as she tested connections and traced power lines.

Watching her work, he felt something he hadn’t experienced in what must have been years—a sense of purpose. Of possibility. The fortress had been a prison of his own making, even before he lost himself to the beast. Now, with her presence, it felt different. Alive again, in a way it hadn’t been since…

Since when?

The memory wouldn’t come. But for the first time, that didn’t fill him with rage or frustration. Instead, he felt a strange sort of patience. The answers would come, or they wouldn’t. For now, it was enough to watch her plan to bring light back to his darkened halls.

For now, it was enough that she was here.

CHAPTER8

Bella looked up from the junction box she was studying to see Malrik standing over her. It was the first time he’d come this close to her and her heart hammered against her ribs, still shaken by his appearance.

He was huge and powerful, but his face was the most unsettling part—unmistakably wolf-like with a long muzzle and sharp fangs, yet with an unsettling intelligence in those glowing yellow eyes that no animal possessed.

He wasn’t just some wild creature. He was a Vultor in full transformation.

She’d heard the stories all her life—whispered tales of the Vultor’s ability to shift between forms—but most humans dismissed them as exaggerations or folklore. Even those who believed rarely saw the transformation. The Vultor kept to themselves, appearing in their more humanoid forms when they conducted business with the settlements.

“What’s next on the tour?” She gestured to the crumbling grandeur around them. “This place is enormous, and I’m not wandering around blind.”

His massive head tilted slightly, as though surprised by her directness. A low rumble emerged from his chest, but it wasn’t aggressive. After a moment, he turned and made a sweeping gesture with one clawed hand toward the doorway.

“I’ll take that as a ‘follow me,’“ she muttered, falling into step behind him.

The keep was larger than it had appeared from outside, with high ceilings and wide corridors clearly designed for beings of Malrik’s size. Everything was built on a grand scale—doorways twice the height necessary for humans, windows stretching from floor to ceiling, staircases with steps so deep she had to stretch her legs to climb them comfortably.

Yet despite the impressive architecture, the place felt hollow. Dust covered every surface, and the few pieces of furniture they passed were broken or decayed beyond recognition. Here and there, she spotted signs of violence—deep gouges in the walls, shattered remains of what might have been statues or decorative items.

They passed what must have been a dining hall, with a table long enough to seat twenty. Most of the chairs were broken, and the table itself was deeply scored with claw marks. A parlor contained the shredded remains of couches and the splintered frames of side tables. A study held a desk that had been split clean in two.

“Did you do all this?” she asked, gesturing at the destruction.

Malrik paused, looking back at her. His ears flattened against his head, and he gave a short nod.

“Bad day?” she quipped.

To her surprise, something like a snort escaped him—almost a laugh. He shook his massive head and continued walking.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” She sighed. “That’s fine. I can talk enough for both of us.”

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