Blood Pack Book: One

Chapter 1: A kiss that seal the contract

She moved through the trees with heavy, hard breaths. She'd been chasing this thing for what felt like too long - an axeling, reptilian, all sharp claws and sharper teeth, and mean. Very mean. Fast, too, even for one of its kind. It didn't help that it was the dead of night and she'd been called out to deal with the damn thing alone.

She was almost on it when the axeling lurched ahead, gaining ground she'd worked hard to close. A brief lapse - she'd lost focus for half a second, and that was all it took. That miscalculation was just the start of the headache her night was about to become.

A sound reached her through the trees, soft but sharp against her keen hearing. She broke through the treeline and found herself at the edge of a small neighborhood. On the road ahead, next to an overturned trash bag, a young man lay on his back, staring up at the sky. Part of his torso was gone. He was lying in a spreading pool of his own blood.

Her expression hardened into something like annoyance. The axeling had slowed, distracted by its kill. She didn't waste time - she ended it in a matter of minutes, its blood dripping from her hands as she walked back to the man.

He was still alive. Barely. His breathing was shallow, and he was mumbling something under his breath - pleading, maybe, for someone, anyone, to help him. She knew there was no point taking him to a hospital. He'd lost too much blood; he wouldn't survive the drive.

She touched his arm. His skin was already growing cold. She stared into his eyes, watching them well with tears as his body slackened in her grip, going limp by degrees. The last thing he'd likely hear before he slipped under was her voice - if she said anything at all.

She should've left. This wasn't her fault. There was nothing she could've done.

But a nagging feeling wouldn't let her walk away, and she weighed the consequences of what she was about to do for what felt like an eternity. A million thoughts tore through her head. Finally, she decided.

"Dammit," she said, kneeling closer.

She leaned down and kissed him - then bit down, her tongue against his, blood mingling and dancing between them as the bond took hold.

The young man felt his heart stutter, skip, then race. The cold that had been swallowing him turned to warmth, like his whole body had started glowing from the inside. Before he lost consciousness completely, he saw only a blur of beauty - crimson hair catching the low light - lifting him from the pool of his own blood and carrying him into the dark.

Good instincts again - you're staying in Jack's confusion and physical sensations (lightheaded, heavier, disoriented), which is exactly the close-third target. Here's the cleaned-up version:

Some time later...

He jolted upright in a cold sweat, his body feeling wrong somehow - like it wasn't quite his anymore. He looked around the room: egg-white walls, heavy dressers, everything nicer than it had any right to be.

He glanced down. Someone had put him in a black t-shirt and pajama pants that weren't his.

The last thing he remembered was taking the trash out. Then something had knocked him flat.

He didn't let himself think too hard about it - he just needed to get out of here. He swung his legs off the bed, bare feet meeting cold oak floorboards. Lightheaded. Heavier than usual, too, in a way he couldn't place. He pushed himself up anyway and made for the door.

The hallway outside was old wood, dim and grand, the kind you'd see in a period movie. Paintings of unfamiliar faces lined the walls - maybe the family that found him, whoever they were. He kept walking, one hand trailing the wall for balance, until he nearly collided with someone moving fast the other way.