Mate Massacres

Chapter 7

"Where do you think you're going?" a voice asked as Krey stormed down the corridor. Wolves bowed their heads, and Krey looked everyone in the eye, challenging them to stare back like what the human did when he was in the cellar. Then again when they were in front of each other at the gate. Krey dug fingernails into his palm and tried to think about something else.

"Hey," his mother yelled and matched his long strides. "Why did you cancel the hunt?"

"Because."

"Because what? Krey." Makena tried grabbing his arm, wanting him to slow down. Krey snapped it from her grip.

"Leave me alone," he growled. Brown eyes collided, and his mother matched his scowl. Krey continued down the corridor quickly and silently. His heart pounded in his chest; he feared his mother would see straight through him and know he had the dream.

His mother always knew when something was going on with him, but Krey was determined to keep the boy a secret for as long as possible.

He needed air to clear his head. Ever since he dreamt of the human, his wolf had clawed to get out to find the boys scent. Krey had tried to preoccupy himself with his duties, but as the sun lowered and the stars shone, his mind kept wandering back to those blue eyes.

When he was out of the institute and walking towards the gate, Krey's eyes glowed blood red in the dark. His wolf was just on the surface, and the guards backed away when the gate slid open. Krey looked at them as though he was ready to take a chunk out of their legs.

He stormed down the path made by years of wolves trampling over the grass. Krey's mouth watered as the wind rustled the leaves and brushed his skin. He bent his fingers, aching for claws.

He stopped when trees surrounded him and let the natural sounds fill his ears. As his eyes glowed, his sight improved, seeing sharply in the darkness. Krey stretched his arms above his head before crouching. He dug fingers into damp leaves and breathed in the earthy scent of the forest.

The woods smelt best after rainfall: muddy, crisp, and pure.

Krey inhaled three long breaths, lapping up the icy air before his wolf broke free. He kept his eyes closed, feeling himself transform, and biting back the pain in his spine as his bones cracked. Krey had shifted a million times. The pain soon became as familiar as breathing, and a reminder that werewolves were real, despite humanity painting them as a myth.

Krey dug huge claws into the mud and opened his eyes. He stood on all fours, sniffing the air, twitching his ears and feeling the wind on his tongue.

As soon as Krey was in his wolf form, he thought of the boy, and his wolf remembered the scent well. Krey had to smell him again, so he ran.

The huge brown wolf with black patches galloped through the woods, over thick roots, between trees, and with his nose almost touching the floor. Something excited his wolf. Krey knew by the way it made his body tingle that he smelt the human's scent, still lingering from when he walked home.

Krey ran and ran, never tiring and never wanting to stop until the scent was suddenly so strong, he skidded to a halt and frantically sniffed around a tree trunk. The human had marked his scent there, and Krey so desperately wanted to mask it with his own. He almost lifted a leg until he argued with himself to stop.

If enemies dared to get so close and smelt him and a human mixed on a tree, they would know for sure that he had found his mate.

Krey growled deeply and reluctantly continued.

The longer he ran, the stronger he could smell humans, but most importantly, his own human's sweet scent, which was more profound than the rest.

Krey slowed when buildings sat in the distance. He kept to the shadows and made as little noise as possible.