i'll never let them hurt you • petekey

eight

The key slips into the lock and turns, soliciting a soft click. I twist the doorknob and greet the eerily quiet house. The air feels different.

"Pete?" I call out softly.

Silence is all that calls back. I inhale deeply, picking up a musky scent. It's familiar, but it's never been this strong before. My eyebrows crease in confusion.

"Pete?" I try again, stepping forward quietly.

Suddenly, there's a movement in the shadows. I whip my head to the side to see nothing where I thought there was something. A cold chill runs down my spine. I grip my keys tighter out of instinct, my legs moving almost on their own as I approach the basement door.

He turns back at sunrise, it's hours past that. He's probably in the basement, out cold from the sickness and exhaustion.

I breathe in deeply, the scent once again hitting the roof of my mouth. It's a familiar savor, one that reminds me of Pete curled in my lap like a puppy, or whimpering like a dog as I fuck him. I've never smelled it this strongly before; this is the pure scent of a werewolf. I inhale once more, following the scent. As I approach the basement, a spike of fear runs deep through my heart, akin to a wooden stake.

The chains, all of them, they're broken. Snapped. Heavy links of metal strewn across the floor like they were nothing. Both of the padlocks are splintered at the latch.

My breath is bated, my body is still.

A low, almost inaudible growl sounds from behind me. The scent is overwhelming, taking over my senses.  

I'm not afraid of dying. I'm already dead, I've been dead for seven hundred years. I'm not afraid of dying. I'm afraid of my beloved turning back to himself just to find my mangled body next to him. What was once the paw of a beast is now the hand of a lover, clutching my head or my heart. I'm afraid of him looking down, seeing the strips of flesh and skin that have been torn from my body, I'm afraid of him tasting my death between his teeth.

I let my fangs show themselves, with no intent to kill, simply to defend. I'll do whatever it takes to get us both out of this, no matter how scathed.

With a silent, deep breath, I turn and face the creature behind me.

The keys nearly fall from my hand as I take in the sight before me.

It's half my height. Muscles ripple underneath it's dark, coarse fur, colored the same as his hair. Claws at least an inch in length jut from enormous paws, paws that are caked in stale blood. I dare to look in it's narrowed, threatening eyes. But they aren't the eyes of a monster, I realize. They're his eyes. Light brown, green in some lighting, but right now they're a pale brown. I could get lost in those eyes forever, but another dangerous sound trickles through it's clenched jaw. I snap out of it, and move one foot backwards.  There's something disturbingly human in the grace and stealth it moves with, bending it's long limbs and tightening it's shoulders, bracing itself.

It's gums peel back to reveal rows of gleaming yellow teeth, soaked with the same spit that's dripping onto the floor as it looks at me.

Resembling a morbid smile, this expression is that last that I see before it lunges towards me.