PRIMAL – Chapter III: The Pact

⚠️🔞CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains explicit adult content 🔞(NSFW) including graphic depictions of sexual activity between consenting adults.⚠️

The daylight was a cold blade in my eyes. From the apartment window, I stared at the yellowish bloodstain under the storefront awning. Last night echoed in every fiber of my being: the cracking of my bones as they stretched, the pull of my muscles, the taste of flesh in my mouth... and that intoxicating, dizzying freedom that nearly brought tears to my eyes. Then the change back: every bone snapping back into place inside a painful, bruised sack. Now I was empty. The animal was lonely. The man left behind was even more so.

On the laptop, the news was about the "urban predator." My hand trembled. Not from fear. From a deep, bone-deep, eternally hungry emptiness that lived not in my stomach but in the depths of my soul.

When the knock came, I thought I was imagining it. Then it repeated. Hard. Decisive. It didn't beat around the bush.

I opened the door.

The man on the threshold was taller than me. Broad shoulders under a dark blue coat, his face ruled by sharp lines. But his eyes... they were as dark gray as a pre-storm sky, and they looked at me as if reading the back wall of my skull.

"Viktor?" he asked. His voice was deep, neutral. "Yes." "Matt Kovacs. Police." He didn't show a badge. "Got a minute?"

I stepped back. My heartbeat sped up, but strangely, I didn't panic. Something was off. The man-Kovacs-didn't look at me like a suspect. He looked like he knew.

"Where were you last night?" he asked, his eyes sweeping the bleak room. "Home." My voice was hoarse from last night's howls. "All night?" "Yes."

He nodded, as if he hadn't expected anything else. He walked to the window. His gaze landed on the bloodstain. "Rough neighborhood," he said. "Lots of danger."

I didn't speak. But I felt it. I felt his body was tense, like mine. Not the tension of a cop. The tension of a predator, scenting the air.

"Is there something you want to tell me, Viktor?" he turned to me suddenly. The gray eyes were sharp now. Probing. "Something that happened last night?"

The air froze in my lungs. I looked into his eyes. Beneath the surface, something moved. A recognition. A knowing. This man didn't just suspect.

"No," I said, and my voice was hard as stone. He looked at me for another second, then something twitched in the corner of his eye. Almost a smile. "Alright," he said. "Then I won't keep you. But... be careful, Viktor. The night hides many things."

He left. I leaned against the door and listened to his footsteps in the stairwell. My fists clenched. Something had changed. My loneliness was over. Now I wasn't the only one who was lonely.

Around ten in the evening, the pain began to creep in. A slow, hot poisoning starting from my bones. My teeth chattered. Not here. Not here.

The city park gate was open. I ran into the thicket until the pain became too much. I threw myself onto a clearing. My clothes tore. My spine cracked, reshaping. Fur burst from under my skin, black and thick. The scream that tore from my throat was no longer human. It was a growl. Animal.

I stood up in the clearing. I scented the air. And then... I caught another scent. Similar. But different. Stronger.

A second shape rose from the darkness. Bigger. More powerful. His fur wasn't black, but silvery gray. But the eyes... the same dark gray eyes. Matt.

We stood motionless. The air vibrated between us. Not fear. Not threat. Something ancient and deep: recognition. The growl that rose from his throat was low and resonant. A greeting.

And then the scream broke the silence. A woman's scream. Male laughter.

We both turned toward the sound. We exchanged a glance. In a single, silent moment, we understood everything. Then he-Matt-let out a short, rumbling sound and started moving. I followed.

At the concrete bench, three men had a young woman pinned. One had torn her blouse. Another twisted her arm. The third, the biggest, stood and watched.

"Please, no..." the girl moaned.

Then all sound died.

The three men looked up. They saw the two huge, dark shapes, the glowing eyes. A second of complete incomprehension. Then terror.

"What the f—"

We didn't charge. We appeared. Matt grabbed the biggest one, lifted him into the air, and slammed him to the ground before he could finish. Bones crunched. I leaped at the one who'd torn the blouse. My claws dug deep into his shoulder as I smashed his head against the bench. The third tried to run, but Matt caught him, stopping him with his foot.

The woman fainted.

Then death did not come.

We circled the three injured, terrified men. The scent of fear, sweet and sour, filled my nose. My lungs heaved. This was the appetizer. Matt looked at me. In his eyes was no question. Just a dark, agreeing hunger.

Matt forced the biggest one onto the ground. His claws spread him apart. I saw what was coming. And in my body, a crazy, dark wave surged up. Not rage. Desire. The desire for power. For total submission.

I went to the other one. I grabbed him. He begged. I didn't hear. I only felt the huge, animal erection of my own body. There was no preparation. No mercy. Just a brutal, painful penetration. I pressed his body into the earth. His scream distorted, became a choked groan as I began to move in a wild, animal rhythm. Beside me, Matt did the same.

The third man crawled toward Matt. "No... please... don't kill me..."

Matt, while moving, drove a claw into his shoulder and pulled him close. Then I took over. I repeated the brutal cycle. The scene was chaotic: the two monsters, among the three broken bodies, blood, saliva, screams. I felt myself nearing the edge. The tension built, mixed with the taste of blood. With final, deep thrusts, I reached the peak. A long, hoarse growl tore from me as I came. And in the same instant, I bent down. My teeth sank deep into his neck.

The flesh tore. Warm blood poured into my mouth, mixing with my own fluid. The man's body stiffened in a final spasm, then went limp. A gurgling, bubbling sound came from his throat, then faded. Beside me, Matt did the same. Blood sprayed.

Silence. Only our heavy, panting breath. The three bodies were still. Matt's head turned toward the bench. A short, rumbling sound. He went to the woman. His teeth grabbed the collar of her coat, and he dragged her under a bush. He came back.

And then the air changed.

The smell of blood didn't quench the desire. It inflamed it. I looked at him. I looked into his eyes. And I saw the same dark fire burning in them that burned in me. Not a dominance struggle. Immediate union.

I lunged at him. But he met me with teeth and slammed me to the ground. Not a tussle. A wild, convulsive grappling. His teeth dug into my back, deep, hot. I bit back into his shoulder. The taste of blood mixed with saliva. I penetrated him from above, but his thighs squeezed my waist with such force they nearly broke it. The thrusts were jerky, desperate. Our sound wasn't a growl. A choked, hoarse howl tearing from our throats.

He flipped us. Now he was on top. His movements were rougher, deeper. As if he wanted not just to join, but to merge. His claws sank into my ass. The boundary between pain and pleasure dissolved. There was no more "him" and "me." Only movement, biting, fluid, blood. And a crazy, perverse agreement: we two were one. Made of the same dark matter.

I felt myself nearing the edge again. A spasm racked my stomach. With a long, throaty groan, I came inside him. At the same moment, his body was seized by his own orgasm. He answered with a deep, rumbling howl, and I felt the warmth inside me. Then we collapsed, intertwined.

Dawn. The pain returned. It tore the entanglement apart. My bones snapped back, my skin retracted. Naked, injured, I lay on the bloody ground beside him. Fresh, deep bite marks bled on our bodies.

He moved first. With a pained motion, he stretched out his arm, reached into the torn pocket of his coat. He pulled out the cigarette pack. Lit one. Took a drag. He blew the smoke into the dawn air.

"I've been hunting for a long time," he said hoarsely. "But not innocents."

He handed me the cigarette. I took it. Our hands touched. Hot. Sharp.

"I propose," he continued, "we make a pact. The next three nights. You help me. I have targets. The city's filthiest criminals. Our brand of justice."

I looked into his eyes. I saw the same dark fire there. The desire. The loneliness. And something else. A possibility.

"Why would I help?" I asked. "Because you're lonely," he said simply. "I was too. Now we're not." A pause. "And because last night... it was good. Wasn't it?"

I thought about it. The taste of blood was still in my mouth. The feel of his skin was still on my palm. The memory of loneliness like an iceberg in my chest.

"It was good," I repeated. "So?" he asked.

I looked deep into his eyes. "Tomorrow night. Where do we meet?" "The old dockyards. Midnight." He stood up, gathered his clothes. "There will be work."

I stood up too. We stood naked, facing each other in the dawn light. Our bodies were a reminder of everything. The air between us crackled. Not sexual tension. Something deeper. The tension of a shared fate. An attraction that was terrifying and inevitable.

"I think," I said quietly, "the loneliness is over."

He paused for a moment. Then a small, but real smile crossed his lips. "I think you're right."

He put on his coat and, without looking back, walked away. I watched until he disappeared into the bushes.

The sun rose. But inside me, something new was rising. Not bloodlust. Not fear. A hope. A dark, blood-streaked hope that maybe... maybe I didn't have to be alone.

The loneliness is over.

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