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He’s fascinating, my human.

Caspian jumps to another rock, his legs wobbling as he lands. My tail shifts, the furred ends brushing the sand as I anticipate the moment I have to jump into the sea to pull him out.

It doesn’t take long for the burst of energy to fade from his tired body and his song turns into full on sobs. He slides down until he’s sitting and his legs are fully submerged in the surf, water lapping at the top of his thighs.

The tide rises steadily as he continues to cry.

“Maybe you should just take me too,” he says in the saddest, softest voice I’ve ever heard from a mortal. The air around him changes. From the sweet scent of his anger to a bitter smell of defeat. Like rusted metal in the hot sun.

Caspian looks at the empty bottle, then lets out a loud sigh. With one hand on the rock, he goes to stand, but his legs buckle and he teeters forward, his arms coming out to balance himself. My muscles tense as he sways, loses his footing on the rock, and falls forward, disappearing beneath the water’s surface. I move quickly, my heart racing as I dive in. The sea is dark and churning and it takes me a moment for my eyes to land on him. His eyes are open, but not focused. He blinks them once, then twice more before they fall shut. He doesn’t fight the current that’s pulling him away from the shore, though it’s so strong I don’t think he could if he wanted to. He doesn’t fight me either as I pull him closer, his chest to mine, his heart beating slow and steady.

Oh human mine, what will I do with you?

It’s easy to carry him to bed. It’s harder to walk away.

His clothing is wet and sandy, and he stirs when I remove them, but he doesn’t wake. I pull off his shoes, his socks and then his t-shirt. Finally, I remove his trousers, my heart stilling when he’s lying there all flesh and bones and beauty with nothing but thin fabric covering his cock.

I war with myself. With the good and bad parts. I want to taste him. I want to make him cry and sweat and bleed. I want to see my claw marks on his chest and my bite marks on his shoulder.

Caspian shivers, goosebumps littering his skin. He reaches an arm up and flops it above his head and seconds later, gentle snores pass his lips. He’s out cold. From the sea. From the alcohol. From the sheer exhaustion of being a fragile human being.

Placing one large paw on either side of his hips, I lay my weight over him, my fur stealing the cold from his damp skin. His scent is sharp tonight, a mix of fear and sadness, awash with the aroma of the sea. And yet, it is no less intoxicating. I wrap a hand around his throat gently, to feel the pulse beneath my fingertips. Slow and steady.

Pressing my lips to the space beneath his ear, I take a deep breath. The air that fills my lungs is all him. Human in its imperfections. Perfect in the uniqueness that makes it his.

The beast in me aches to bite the stubbled skin on his neck, so soft and tender and inviting. I’ve never met another cryptid like me, but I have heard tales of creatures with fated mates. Heard stories of bites that could bring them together and bond them for life. I run my tongue over my upper canines, the sting sharp when they cut into the soft flesh, the metallic tang of copper filling my mouth.

It would be so easy to try. To have one tiny taste and to see what happens. To see if those tales are true for me, too. But I don’t and I inwardly curse my humanity for giving me morals.

Yet not quiet enough of them to stop me from licking a stripe up the side of his neck or from grazing my teeth over his collarbone until his eyes are fluttering and I have no choice but to retreat into the shadows once again.

EIGHT

CASPIAN

There’s water again. Water and fur and claws and darkness. Except for those bright green eyes which glow like beacons that I can’t turn away from. The beast is holding me, his fur caressing my skin. His arms are strong and I know I should be scared and maybe I am, but I’m also incredibly warm. The beast hums, his breath ghosting my ear and then his nose is pressed to my neck, his clawed hand wrapping around my throat, the sharp tips breaking the skin. I try to talk but nothing comes out, his weight is too heavy and I can’t take a breath. Panic grips me, and I close my eyes. None of this is real. It can’t be. Monsters don’t exist.

Pop’s voice reaches me through the fog of my thoughts. Just because you don’t believe in them, doesn’t mean they’re not real, lad. Open your eyes, Caspian.

Open your eyes.

“Caspian. Cass. Cass. Wake up.”

Someone nudges me and I open my eyes, lost for a moment in the space between dreams and reality. When I adjust to the light, I cringe at the brightness and find myself staring up at my best friend, his hand tightly holding my shoulder.

“Jesus Christ on a cracker,” I curse, shaking off his touch and covering my face with the back of my arm. My head is pounding and my mouth feels like I’ve been eating sand. “What the fuck happened last night?”

Kiernan laughs as he sits heavily on the edge of my bed, the jostling making my stomach roll. A purr sounds from next me before a fluffy grey head is rubbing against my chin. I push the cat away and roll onto my side.

“No idea,” Kee replies. “I only came over this morning because you never showed at the bakery and didn’t answer your phone. I know you said Louis got your car started, but I wasn’t sure if it was giving you problems again.”

I rub a hand down my face, then look at my friend.

“What time is it?”

Kiernan checks his phone.

“Nine.”