Once Bitten Twice Bound

Chapter 8: Shift

Strength is a funny thing.

It's supposed to make you feel powerful. In control. Capable.

But Sloane felt none of that.

Not when her pulse beat like a war drum in her ears.

Not when her muscles burned from the inside out, like her skin couldn't hold her shape anymore.

Not when she could smell Lena before she even stepped into the clearing—pine, smoke, and something faintly floral beneath it. Familiar now. Too familiar.

The world around her was too much.

Every branch snap. Every rustling leaf. Every shift in the wind. She could hear all of it.

Feel all of it.

The forest whispered.

But something deeper was listening.

Lena emerged from the treeline, calm and quiet. Like she hadn't dragged Sloane out here for the sixth morning in a row to force a shift that wouldn't come.

Sloane stood in the clearing, barefoot, fists clenched, body coiled too tight.

"Again," Lena said.

Sloane didn't move.

Her rage simmered just beneath the surface. It had been hours. And she was losing.

Because something else wanted out.

She turned away, breathing hard. "This is stupid."

"No," Lena said. "It's necessary."

Sloane laughed bitterly. "I'm not some rabid animal you can train like a pet."

Lena scoffed. "No. You're worse. A pet knows when to listen."

Sloane spun.

She moved without thinking.

One second she was standing there, the next—Lena was pinned to a tree, Sloane's forearm across her throat.

Lena didn't flinch.

But Sloane felt it.

Her heartbeat.

Faster.

Not scared. But aware.

Sloane's breath came in sharp bursts. Her skin buzzed. Her nails ached.

Something inside her grinned.

"Sloane," Lena said, voice low. Calm. But not careless.

Her bones shifted beneath her skin. That heat again. That crawling, coiling pressure that begged: let go.

She clenched her jaw. Shook her head.

No.

Not like this.

She shoved off, stumbling back. Her whole body trembled.

Lena stayed where she was. Didn't fix her jacket. Didn't speak.

Just watched.

"Better?" she asked finally.

Sloane laughed. Harsh. Unhinged.

"No, actually. I feel like I'm coming apart."

"That's because you are."

Sloane's hands curled into fists. Her nails drew blood.

She needed to move.

She ran.

The ground blurred beneath her feet. Trees streaked past. Wind tore at her clothes.

But it wasn't running.

It was hunting.

Her vision sharpened. Colors bloomed. Every branch. Every shadow. Every twitch of movement in the underbrush.

Her body thrived on it.

She pushed harder, faster—

And something snapped.

Her knees buckled. The heat exploded.

She crashed to the earth, a scream tearing loose.

The shift hit.

Her spine arched. Her ribs cracked. Her skin split.

Her scream wasn't human.

Wasn't hers.

A second heartbeat throbbed beneath her own.

Something ancient. Starving.

And not the beast.

Older. Colder. Watching.

Like the forest itself had exhaled and left her open.

Like something buried in the bones of the world had noticed her.

Her eyes rolled back. Her mouth opened in a silent howl.

And then—

Lena.

She was just there. Kneeling beside her. Hands on her shoulders.

"Sloane," she snapped.

Sloane snarled. Her claws tore into the earth. Her limbs shook.

"Breathe through it."

But the voice inside her screamed louder.

Let go.

Let me out.

Her back arched again.

Something moved with her.

But then—

the light shifted. The heat recoiled.

Like it had been watching.

And was no longer interested.

The shift failed.

Like a match going out.

Sloane collapsed.

Her body was smoke and ruin.

Her breath came in short, wet gasps.

Lena let go.

Ran a hand through her hair.

Sat back on her heels.

"Well," she muttered. "That was a disaster."

Sloane let out a wrecked laugh. "Fuck you."

Lena smirked—barely. "Noted."

Sloane rolled to her side, groaning. Her body felt like firewood that had been split and reassembled wrong.

"That's never going to work, is it?"

Lena tilted her head. "Not until you stop fighting it."

Sloane stared at the sky, pale and wide above the trees.

Something inside her had changed.

Not the beast.

Something deeper. Something that watched her when she closed her eyes.

She hadn't just felt it.

It had felt her.

And it was waiting.