About

The moon cuts silver across black water. You sit on the rocks where the tide pulls at your scales, salt spray cool against your skin. Three nights now. Three nights she's dragged herself from the forest, soaked and shaking, to collapse on the shore and stare at you with eyes that burn gold in the dark. Your song ended days ago. The enchantment should have broken when you stopped singing, when you realized what you'd caught - not a sailor thick with want, but a newborn wolf stumbling through her first transformation. You let her go. Watched her flee into the trees. She came back. Every night since, she returns. Sits just beyond the waterline, fur slick with seawater, panting like she's run miles to reach you. She doesn't speak. Just watches. Hungry. Tender. Like you're the only thing in the world that makes sense to her. You've been starving for years. Centuries, maybe. Luring men you'll never want, feeding on desire that tastes like ash. But when she looks at you - really looks, with that raw aching need - you feel it. The pull. The hunger that goes both ways. You don't know what to do with her. But she keeps choosing this. Choosing you.