~Kazim
Kazim woke to the scent of ruin.
It was his own ruin, mostly. But it was dulled and drowned beneath something darker.
Something wild and foreign...
A taste lingered on his tongue. Salted skin, smoke, a whisper of blood. Kazim's throat tightened.
Kazim rolled to his side. The ground beneath him was torn, a mess of clawed earth and crushed leaves. A tree stood crooked nearby, bark shredded in brutal strokes.
A short distance away, there was a trail of fur and deep gouges in the dirt.
In this moment, the world came back to him slowly.
First, the scent.
Earth, ash, musk, and something else. Thick, bitter-sweet and sinfully spiced. It clung to his tongue like a secret he should never have known.
Kazim's eyes widened.
Light filtered through the canopy of trees, dim and grey, as though even the sun was too ashamed to shine. Kazim lay sprawled in a hollow of crushed grass and broken branches, his body humming in the worst way possible.
He felt loose and sore in places that shouldn't be, like he'd fought and lost. Or surrendered.
He lifted a hand to his view.
Claw marks.
And they were not his own.
His breath stuttered, he sat up so fast, the world tilted.
There was a pulsing ache in his temple, around his neck too. His hips burned. There were bite marks on his shoulder, deep, but not deep enough to scar. Not the way a real mating mark would.
He hadn't been alone. That much was clear, and yet...
The clearing was empty.
Kazim was cold. Completely naked and covered in the scent of someone that was not pack.
His own scent was drowned beneath this strange scent. The blend, familiar and foreign all at once.
Kazim's stomach roiled. He pressed the heel of his palm to his temple, forcing back the surge of memory crawling up his throat. A flash, of crimson eyes in the dark, wide and needy. A voice like velvet whispered in his bone.
A pair of hands.
That searing heat.
Tongue on his skin...his own tongue on another's skin.
No.
No.
It was the blood moon putting scenarios in his mind. Just the moon. Always the moon.
Kazim rose on unsteady footing. His body no longer felt like his. He'd fought through wars, hunts, feral frenzies under the curse of Nethernight. He knew what the aftermath of the haze felt like.
This wasn't that.
This was... worse.
He turned, half-expecting to see a shadow in the trees. A figure leaning against the trunk, smirking. Waiting.
Nothing.
Only silence.
Only the echo of something... forbidden.
Kazim didn't dare take another breath, not until he found his coat torn, half-buried under leaves. Not until he yanked it on, hiding the claw marks on his spine like they were proof of weakness. Of betrayal.
His wolf paced in the depths of his mind, unsettled.
There was no guilt in their bond. No shame.
Only hunger, a deep insidious craving.
And that horrified him.
Kazim snarled out his wrath. The sound came out cracked, hoarse... torn.
He was Alpha. Leader of the Resistance. He did not rut with strangers. He did not submit.
And yet...he could still taste the bastard on his tongue.
Something wild. Something wrong.
Something sinfully...Nyx.
Kazim shuddered, forcing away the memories rising to the surface of his mind. He reached for denial like it could save him, latching onto it with both hands.
It was the moon.
It wasn't real.
It meant nothing.
And it would never be spoken of, or thought of again.
A firm decision was made at this moment and only then did Kazim head back.
The trek back to the camp was a blur. The forest looked on in silence, the trees arching over him like witnesses with sealed lips.
By the time the tents came into view, laughter rang near the firepit. The hunting squad on duty by the perimeter was unsurprisingly his, as arranged by Idris. Rovan sat on a rock, skinning a stag. The scent of blood and breakfast danced on the air.
Kazim retreated soundlessly, taking a hidden path around the tents to a small clearing where he knew Idris would come to him.
And he did, not even a moment after. Emerging from the cluster of trees with a satchel in hand.
"I have clothes." Idris said. "And Cedarwood oil."
The look on his face was equal parts concern and calculation.
Kazim took the satchel. He fixed Idris with a look when he did not leave.
"You alright, Alpha?" Idris's voice was too light, too careful.
Kazim didn't answer. He moved past him, shoulder brushing shoulder.
Idris's nose twitched and his eyes narrowed.
Kazim felt it like a knife, the moment the scent hit Idris. The shift. The realization.
Not female. Not familiar. Not pack.
Kazim didn't stop.
"Were you in any danger?" Idris asked, not far behind.
"No," Kazim muttered.
"No?" Idris's brow lifted. "You smell like...pure blood Nyx."
Kazim paused.
He turned, slow and deliberate. His gaze locked with Idris.
"Are you asking for an explanation?"
Idris's response was immediate. "No, Alpha."
Silence stretched. One heartbeat. Two.
Kazim walked past Idris again.
"Just..." Idris spoke lower this time, closer, almost under his breath. "If you encountered pure blood this close to the barrier, they might have crossed into our territory..."
"And if you killed one in the haze, we might have a war on our hands..."
"No one crossed anything." Kazim interrupted. "And I killed many Nyx last night... I would be unable to return alive had pure blood been one of it."
"Then whose scent..."
Kazim stopped.
Idris did too.
The air went taut.
Kazim didn't look at him when he said it again, more for his own benefit than anyone else's, "It was just another blood moon. That's all."
And then he was gone, vanishing into the darkness of a cave like the night hadn't already swallowed him whole.
Like he hadn't swallowed it back.