Cursed Alien – Honey Phillips

He leaned down, drawn by an instinct more powerful than the beast’s hunger had ever been. Their lips touched. The contact was gentle at first, tentative. Her lips were soft, warm. She made a small sound in the back of her throat—surprise or pleasure, he couldn’t tell—and then she was kissing him back, her hand sliding to the nape of his neck.

The beast inside him surged forward, not fighting for control but demanding more. The kiss deepened and became hungry, desperate. His arms tightened around her waist, lifting her off the ground. Her body pressed against his, soft curves against hard muscle. Claim her. Mark her. Make her ours forever. The intensity of his need shocked him. Horrified, he wrenched himself away, setting her back on her feet and stepping backwards until he hit the opposite wall.

His chest heaved as if he’d been running for miles again. His claws—still present despite his partial transformation—had extended, nearly piercing the fabric of her coverall. He could have hurt her. Could still hurt her. She stood where he’d left her, cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted. She looked dazed, breathless. Beautiful. “I’m sorry,” he managed, his voice a rough approximation of speech after so long communicating only in growls. “I shouldn’t have⁠—” “Don’t.” She took a step toward him, then stopped when he flinched back.

“Don’t apologize.” “Dangerous.” The word came easier this time. “I’m dangerous.” “You won’t hurt me.” She said it with such conviction, such certainty. If only she knew how close he’d come. How the beast inside him had howled for him to claim her, to sink his teeth into the soft skin of her neck, to mark her as his mate for all to see. “You don’t understand,” he growled, frustration mounting as he struggled to form the words, to make her see. “The beast—it wants—I want⁠—” He couldn’t finish.

Couldn’t tell her what he wanted to do to her. With her. She took another step towards him, her expression softening. “I think I understand more than you realize.” She gestured to his face, his partially transformed body. “This is happening because of me, isn’t it? I’m affecting you somehow.” He closed his eyes, unable to look at her.

She was too perceptive, too unafraid. And she was right. Her presence was changing him, awakening parts of himself he’d thought lost forever. “The curse,” he said finally, the words dragged from some deep part of his memory. “Unmated Vultor. Beast takes over.” Her sharp intake of breath told him she understood the implications. “And I’m… what? Breaking the curse?”

“Or making it worse.” He opened his eyes, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “The beast wants you. Wants to claim you. As mate.” The word hung between them, heavy with meaning. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t back away. Didn’t run. Instead, she took another step toward him, close enough now that he could feel the warmth radiating from her body. “And what do you want, Malrik?”

he beast’s claws dug into earth as he stalked silently through the forest. Only the scent of evergreens and the distant rush of water registered as he slipped through the shadows, his massive form blending easily with the darkness between trees. The cottma he was tracking suddenly paused, head up and long ears twitching, as it became aware of his presence.

It tried to dart into the undergrowth but it was too late. He pounced, claws extended, and ended the chase in an instant. His jaws snapped and blood filled his mouth, hot and satisfying. He tore into the flesh, consuming the meat with savage efficiency. This was his existence now. Hunt. Kill. Eat. Defend his territory. Sleep. A simple cycle with no past or future, only the endless present of instinct and survival.

A breeze shifted through the trees, carrying something new, and he paused mid-bite. His nostrils flared, drawing in a scent unlike anything in his mountain domain. Sweet, like the wildflowers that bloomed in hidden valleys, yet with an undertone of metal and oil. The combination tugged at something buried deep within his consciousness. The half-eaten cottma forgotten, he raised his head and inhaled deeply. The scent called to him, not to his hunger but to something else—something lost beneath fur and fang and claw.

Female. The word surfaced unbidden, a fragment from another existence. Not prey. Not enemy. Something else. Something important. Images flashed through his mind—hands instead of paws, words instead of growls. He shook his head, disoriented by these foreign thoughts. Malrik. Another word, this one more troubling. A name. His name? He snarled, confused by the intrusion of this other consciousness. He was beast, nothing more.

This… Malrik… was a threat to the simplicity of his existence. Yet the scent pulled at him, awakening hunger of a different kind. He stored the remains of his kill and set off through the trees, tracking the elusive fragrance, drawn by an instinct stronger than his resistance. It led him down the mountain’s slope, towards a village nestled amongst the foothills. He crested a ridge and froze. Below, a small figure walked briskly along the road that skirted the edge of the forest. Small, but not a child.

Her soft curves were evident despite the heavy clothing she wore, and wild blonde curls glittered in the sunlight like precious metal. She carried a heavy pack on her back and a tool belt slung around her hips. Female. Human. Beautiful. The thought was not the beast’s. It belonged to the other—to Malrik—who stirred more insistently now.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: 657ea154d0881258
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 1,931,442 bytes (1.842 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 192
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 244.78 minutes
• Total Words: 48,955
• Total Characters: 286,546
• Average Words per Page: 254.97
• Average Characters per Page: 1492.43

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