Page 1 of Forbid Me

PROLOGUE

Oz

Ishould've just let my mother kill me. Instead, it looks like Mother Nature will finish the job.

The forest breathed around me, heavy and alive, as I raced through its underbelly. Leaves the size of my head slapped my muzzle. My paws thudded against the soft, damp earth. I sank with each step, even though I barely weighed more than the branches I was careful to avoid. The line between predator and prey was so fine as to be non-existent. Safety was something I was not sure existed anymore. Maybe it never had in this world ruled by a mad god. The air was thick with the scent of moss, magic and murder, a potent, earthy smell that stuck to the back of my throat.

Tall weeds whipped at my face. Thorns snagged in my fur. I pushed on, driven by a heartbeat that drummed loudly in my ears, like the racing pulse of a hunted creature. Which, I guess, was what I was now. The forest's magic tugged at me. Vines curled around mylegs, trying to slow me, to hold me back. The night's breeze whispered of my guilt, of the terrible thing I'd done. The mistake that claimed me as predator. The decision that turned me prey. I tore through the foliage, but their thorny grip left stinging marks on my sleek black coat, little reminders of my betrayal.

I was just a cub. Would be considered an adolescent in my human form. The weight of my actions felt too heavy for my small shoulders. I couldn't shake the image of my brother, weak and fading, while I... I took everything. Even Mama's love, gone like the last light of day, leaving me alone in an endless night.

The trees closed in, their shadows like long, accusing fingers. Every snapped twig, every rustle of leaves sounded like a pursuer come to punish me for my selfishness. My heart raced faster, a desperate rhythm that synced with my paws pounding the ground.

I leapt over a fallen log. My starved body barely cleared it. My lungs burned with each breath. My sides heaved, threatening to let loose the little sustenance I had inside. This was my life now. Constantly running. If I stopped, I would die.

I wanted to howl, to release this ache in my chest. Fear clamped my throat shut. There were worse monsters in this forest than me.

The air was heavy, saturated with a sense of foreboding that clung to my fur like morning dew. The forest around me was a mix of shadows and whispers. Suddenly, a dark presence loomed over me, oppressive and ominous.

I froze. My instincts screamed at me to run. Lifting my head, I saw him—a lion, gaunt and ghostly, a skeletal figure in the twilight. His mane might once have been a majestic symbol of his might. It was now sparse and dull. The bones protruded sharply beneath his tawny skin, etching a map of his suffering that looked identical to mine.

Our eyes locked. In his gaze, there was hunger—a desperate, consuming need. There was triumph, too, as he saw in me his next meal. We could be reflections of each other. Except my coat was adark void, absorbing the scant light, while his was a faded echo of glory lost.

A part of me accepted this as my fate. I had taken a life; it seemed only fitting that I should give mine in return. But as the lion charged, something primal awakened within me: survival. The need to hold on to what was left of my pathetic life clung to me, stubborn and defiant.

The fight began as a blur of motion and instinct. His claws swiped at me, sharp and merciless. But I was smaller and quicker. I dodged and wove. My own claws found his flesh.

It wasn't enough. I hadn't eaten in days. My strength was waning. My movements were sluggish.

The lion pinned me, his massive body a crushing weight. I gasped for breath, the earth cold and damp beneath me. His breath was hot and fetid on my face, the stench of decay and desperation. I saw the end in his eyes—a swift, brutal finish. I braced for the killing blow. But then he went slack.

Confusion mingled with my fear. What happened? I struggled out from under him. My body ached. My breath was ragged.

Lifting my head, I saw the cause of the lion's sudden stillness. Standing over us was another lion. His coat was a brilliant gold that I've never seen the likes of. However, he had no mane.

I looked again and realized he wasn't a lion. He was a jaguar. But without any spots. Not a single one. His coat was solid gold.

Recognition dawned. I rolled to my feet, struggling to all fours. I tried to shift back to the form of a human boy, but I couldn't. I haven't been a boy in days. Months? I couldn't remember the last time I’d shifted.

Because I couldn't kneel in front of the Prince of Panthera, I bowed my head and offered my neck as a show of submission.

The metallic scent of the lion's blood and the earthy fragrance of the forest floor were a potent reminder of the battle that had just unfolded. My heart still pounded in my chest, a relentless drumbeatechoing the fear and adrenaline that had coursed through me only moments ago.

As I crouched there, battered and bruised, the majestic golden jaguar before me began to shift. Its form shimmered and contorted in a play of magic and light. Within moments, where the jaguar had stood now was a boy. Dion, Prince of Panthera, stood before me in his human form, his aura radiating power and authority.

He was the same age as me, yet the difference between us couldn't have been more evident. His body, though smeared with the evidence of the fight, exuded health and vitality. A smile played on his lips with the blood that stained his mouth. It was a vivid contrast to the grim set of my own features.

"You almost had him."

I blinked, my gaze focused on the prince's bloody grin. There was something in his obsidian eyes. It was like the hunger I’d seen in the lion's dull eyes, but this prince was well fed. What I saw was clearly blood lust.

"If you had only dug your claws into his neck, he would've gone down." Prince Dion demonstrated with sharp claws that glinted in the moonlight. "But it was good effort."

The prince was coaching me on my fighting skills?

His smile dropped as quickly as it appeared. He cocked his head and studied me. I wondered if I was wrong. Perhaps he was a lion and I was the meal he'd been playing with before he went for my throat.

"Shift."

---