Page 57 of Rescued By the Beast
The first clap of thunder echoes like a roar in the sky and a chill runs down my spine. I've never been afraid of storms before. But my mind pulls me back to that night, to the icy touch of the curse running through my body. Another bolt of lightning tears through the darkness and a tremor shakes me in my bed. My chest rises and falls in quick, short breaths.
The sound of Mark's breathing changes. His body shifts in bed, the sheets rustling. The silence is filled with the sound of something more primitive—he is sniffing the air. My stomach clenches. Then his wolfish eyes glow in the darkness, golden like embers.
"Kitten, why are you afraid?"
Another bolt of lightning explodes in the sky, and thunder roars almost simultaneously, shaking the house. Fear tears through me, and a loud meow escapes my throat—a scream, really. My body acts before my mind can catch up. In one leap, I'm on his bed, my muscles tense, my breathing uneven. And then I realise what I've done. I'm face to face with the Beast.
Silence hangs between us. My chest rises and falls rapidly. Mark watches me, his eyes fixed on mine. He can see in the dark, I know that. He sees me clearly.
I hold my breath, waiting for him to push me away, to growl or say I can't be there. But then his hand moves, large and warm, and slides over my head. His fingers move down the back of my neck, following my spine, soft, rhythmic. A pleasant shiver runs through me and, before I know it, I'm purring. My eyes close against the sensation, and the sound of the storm becomes a distant echo.
"Are you afraid of the storm?" His voice is low, sleepy.
I almost nod, but I hold back. I have to look like just an ordinary cat.
"It's okay," he continues, his fingers still moving through my fur. "When I was little, I was afraid of the full moon, can you believe it?"
My curiosity is piqued. He never talks about himself.
"My foster father said it was the only time werewolves could assume their hybrid form, that they became stronger. I had nightmares..." His voice lowers. "To this day, I don't know if they were just dreams or memories."
He pauses, and I feel his chest rise slowly before he continues:
"I dreamed of a hybrid, a creature with huge claws and eyes as grey as a storm. She broke into our house, attacked my mother... I watched everything, unable to do anything. It was as if I were trapped in a cage, but it wasn't a cage. It was a cradle." He sighs, the pain still present in his words. "My mother screamed my name, begged the wolf for mercy. The hybrid laughed, a cruel laugh, before stabbing her in the chest. And outside..." His voice breaks, the memory suffocating him. "The full moon shone through the window, illuminating the scene like a distant lighthouse."
He falls silent, and the silence between us hangs heavy in the air. My fur stands on end, not because of the approaching storm, but because of the intensity of the pain he shares. He is opening up to me, revealing something he has never let slip before, something heavy, buried deep in his soul.
If I were human now, I might ask if he still has nightmares, if the fear of the night and the moon still haunts him. But all I can do is purr, a simple response, but one laden with understanding. I stretch, rubbing my face against his fingers, like a silent plea for him to keep touching me. He gently slides his hand under my chin, his fingers warm and firm, yet so soft at the same time.
"When I grew up, I realised that I was never afraid of the moon, but of the monsters it brings with it. And when I understood that I was stronger than all of them, the fear simply disappeared.
I purr louder, nestling closer to his hand, seeking comfort in the softness of his touch.
But another thunderclap rumbles. My heart skips a beat. On impulse, I jump on top of him, burying my muzzle in his neck. My muscles are tense, waiting for a growl of disapproval,for a sudden movement that will throw me away. Instead, his hand moves, sliding over my back... and holding me there.
Firm. Protective.
"Sleep on my chest tonight." His voice becomes hoarse, soft, laden with an unbreakable promise. "Just listen to my heart, leave the storm outside. With me, you're safe."
The beating of his heart echoes loud and steady, like a deep, rhythmic melody. The sound envelops me, lulling me like a lullaby. Each pulse marks a beat, a hypnotic rhythm that resonates through my body and dissolves any trace of fear. My own heart, once frantic, yields to the rhythm of his, keeping time.
And so, for the first time since I was cursed, I sleep well.
Chapter 19
Sandra
I wake up with my heart in my mouth, frightened by an unbearable sound echoing through the house, while red lights flash from below.
"The apocalypse is here!" I scream, but what comes out of my throat is a high-pitched meow.
Ah, for a moment, I forgot that I'm a cat now.
I jump away from Mark's warm, comfortable chest, where I was sleeping, when he sits up with a jolt.
"Fuck," he mutters, jumping out of bed with agility, on full alert.
His wolf-like eyes glint in the dim light, and his claws extend, ready to attack.
