Page 8 of Bind Me

“Asher, watch your back!” I shout as movement in the forest to our left catches my attention. Two men, armed with blades, charge as fast as the wind, coming right for my friend. “Looks like our welcoming party’s arrived!”

We had just set foot in Norway, traveling by boat, and no sooner had we left the harbor and started down the long road for my grandfather’s place than we’d gained unwanted attention.

Sure, we recently got out of Tartarus, the prison where we were born, and it had royally messed us up. So, when the opportunity to leave arose a year after the portal in the prison opened up, we did what we had to do. We lied through our damn teeth to get through a tedious, drawn-out interview with the guards, and finally, they opened the portal to let us out of that world.

But I’m not complaining. No fucking way in hell. The shadow creature inside me, born from the prison’s darkness, had twisted my shifter side into something more feral, more primal. Sometimes, I don’t know where the beast stops and I begin. But there’s one thing I’m sure of—the only way to keep it from taking over completely is to find my fated mate.

So, here we are, fresh out of Tartarus, and we’re already being ambushed.

It’s like another day in Tartarus, really, except I had hoped things would be different out here.

I swing toward the newcomers, my feral beast rising through me at the promise of bloodshed, pressing against my insides, wanting control.

Back the fuck down.

The air crackles with energy when three more men spring out from the woods, their attention on me.

I grin, a chuckle rolling past my lips.

“Does it say a lot that I’m excited for a fight?” Asher growls, lunging for his attackers. He moves with terrifying ease. He only partially transforms, as if he’s not even trying, and this is too easy for him. With hellhound claws and fangs, he rips through the men like paper, his snarls booming through the trees.

“You’re as fucked up as me.” I throw back a laugh. I could shift into my beast form, but that would be too easy. I want my hands dirty and, most importantly, not tell the whole fucking country of Norway we’ve arrived. So, for now, I’ll keep it low-key.

The smaller man coming for me shifts into a black wolf and charges while the other two lunge at me from either side.

I rush to meet them, my body moving with the force of an avalanche. I slam a shoulder into one man, sending him sprawling into a tree with a sickening crunch. He doesn’t get back up. The wolf shifter reaches me next, and I snatch him by the throat. I twist and snap him like a twig with two hands. His earlier growl flatlines, and I toss him aside as I swivel to the third attacker.

He’s got a blade out, plunging it at my chest. Lightning fast, I jolt out of the way, but not before the blade slides across my arm. It stings, but fuck it. It’s a surface wound, and I’ll survive.

Fury burns through me, my beast punching forward with ferocity. I snatch the man’s wrist and haul him toward my fist, which collides with his face. He falls backward like a plank of wood, and I lunge at him, fists raining down on him, each fueled by the anger, the frustration, of centuries spent locked away. His cries become muffled, but my beast keeps pushing me, craving destruction.

Suddenly, a hand touches my shoulder, and I spin around, a snarl ripping through my throat, fist raised.

It’s Asher standing there, unflinching, his dark gaze unwavering.

“Pull the fuck back,” he says firmly, his voice cutting through the chaos in my head. “Guy’s gone. You can stop now.”

His words anchor me back to reality. I glance down at the lifeless body beneath me, the massacre I’ve left behind. I push to my feet, breaths coming in ragged gasps.

I don’t feel remorse for those who wish me harm. That part of me was lost long ago, back when I was a kid and my dad threw me into the woods he nicknamed Death’s Door.

“You’re no son of mine if you can’t fight, if you can’t be stronger than the rest,” he barked at me, hammered into me, beat into me.

I fucking hated him, loathed him, but I learned that living in Tartarus changes you. Like me, my father was also born in a supernatural prison, brought up ruthlessly by his father.

My grandfather… the reason our family line was cursed into Tartarus.

The reason I’m in Norway, of all places. To uncover who the fuck betrayed him and threw him into the prison. My father and grandfather might have been assholes, but they never lied. It didn’t mean they always revealed all the details, but what they did, I trusted.

Turns out, my grandfather was falsely accused of a crime he didn’t commit. And I’m going to find out who cursed us.

Asher’s staring at me, and I snap out of my thoughts.

“We’re good?” he asks, extending a hand toward me.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I accept his help, not because I need it, but to show him it’s me and that I’m calm.

We both come from the same darkness, come in touch with Tartarus’s magic, and we’re both shadow shifters now. And not tamed easily. Back in Tartarus, the full moons there forced my shift, whether I wanted it or not. Same with all the other shifters in the place. With it came the maddening craving for a mate, a savagery that tries to rule me.

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