Page 18 of To Run with the Wild Hunt

At last, I couldn't bear it any longer. I had little control over myself, but there was one who had spent many centuries controlling me—changing me.

So I went to the Master.

Lexi had explored her access to the Master's power, and at her urging, I had, too. None of us were balanced, and we hadn't even been together for a month, so though what was the Master's was Lexi's, and what was Lexi's was mine, the ease that might one day accompany that access didn't yet exist. Still, though, I could tap into the land-sense of the Ruined Palace and use it to move more freely through its halls, and to find those within it.

The Master hadn't left the Ruined Palace since we'd hunted Lexi, and though I knew the desire to hunt itched beneath his skin as badly as it itched under mine, neither of us were willing to risk leaving Lexi and returning centuries after her death. He was good at following the paths of time, and often we returned to the palace mere minutes after leaving, but it wasn't always like that, and the consequences were too great to accept. In all our time here, though, he'd never once hunted Lexi down, letting her come to him like she was a wild animal and he a patient man.

Perhaps he was afraid of what would happen. Of how far he might go to possess her. If I could barely keep from begging, what might someone like him do when let off the leash?

I found him in a ruined tower, brooding as he stared out across the forest, lit by the dying light of the sun. He didn't look over at me, though I knew he had to be aware of my presence. He simply sat there, his horse's tail hanging down and his antlers framing the sky.

With a conciliatory whine, I crept closer. The Master hadn't invited me, and I wasn't supposed to be here, but maybe he would let me come rest my head on his thigh—

"Come here, Keilain," he said, sounding resigned.

I whined again, slinking over with my tail tucked between my legs.

He dropped his heavy hand onto my head, ruffling my fur with affection. "You're a good dog, Key, but it's not the only thing you are. You don't have to act like one."

My tail started wagging despite myself, the appreciation for being called good by the Master as bone-deep as it had always been. "I can't remember," I admitted, looking up at him mournfully. "I— I want to. But it's too easy to be like this."

The Master made a low sound of acknowledgement, giving me a scratch behind the ears before cupping my jaw. "She likes having a hound, doesn't she?"

"It's not enough," I said, a high-pitched whine of distress in the back of my throat. "I want— I want—"

I couldn't say it. Couldn't admit to the Master how badly I wanted to mate our soulmate, even if he was the only one who could help me. I wanted to be good for her, be what she wanted, but I wanted to fill her body with mine even more. It was tearing me apart.

"I understand," he said, a kindness in his voice I hadn't expected. The Master sighed, leaning his head back against the wall. "We're not tame creatures, are we?" he asked, but not in a way where he expected an answer. "Our love is a red thing, sharp and wet. We're too full of hunger for anything else." Pain flickered across his face, the corners of his mouth turning down. "I am the Hunt. If I dare to pursue her, I will surely run her down like a deer and take from her everything, down to her very life. And you…"

"I'm a hound," I said with misery.

"You're the Prince of Teeth, Keilain," the Master said, his voice gentle. "They called you the Vicious Prince. You have always been a predator, and as hungry for the chase as the fiercest of hounds."

Memories cut through me like glass at the words—

—following a woman with my eyes as she dances with many others, until at last her eyes flick up to mine and the chase can truly begin—

"—oh, gods, fuck me harder with that gorgeous cock, make me your little fucktoy—"

—raking silver talons through the neck of a monster—

—the perfect tension in my groin as I fuck the tight ass of a squealing woman, her arms tied behind her back and my fingers tangled in her red hair—

—all of them someone I didn't remember being, someone cruel and callous, his focus on blood and pain instead of all the heated joy of life.

I whimpered, my tail tucked tight against my belly even as heat flushed my groin from the raw delight of those memories—of the man I'd been and the things I'd done.

The Master glanced down at me, a wry expression on his strong features. "Your time as a hound has certainly improved your personality, at least as I reckon things. Yet you may still call upon the man you once were, if you desire it."

With shame hunching my spine, I shifted as far towards fae as I could. It was little more than I'd been able to do that first day, my limbs furred and my hind legs those of a dog. I had to haul myself vertical with the broken wall, pain shooting down the back tendons of my legs as I stood in a position no dog had ever been built to maintain.

"I can't even stand on my own, Master," I said, misery and despair twining around me as I fought to maintain my footing. "I'm not a man. And she doesn't fuck dogs."

"Oh, Key," he said, voice full of compassion. He took my hands off the wall and helped me back down, draping my torso across his thighs. The Master rubbed my head while I tried not to cry, shivering hard and tormented by my own broken desires. "I'm not your master."

"I know," I replied, almost sobbing the words. "I can't help it."

"I know." The Master kept petting me, his affection a poor stand-in for the love I wanted more than anything else in the world. "I can help you remember, or I can help you forget," he said at last. "Forgetting is easier, but you may lose more than you expect. And remembering…"

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