Matthew

The full moon hangs like a pale sentinel in the obsidian sky, casting long silver shadows that dance between the skeletal branches of bare trees lining the quiet suburban street. The cold November air carries the scent of dying leaves and approaching winter, but Matthew's supernatural senses pick up something far more intoxicating - your scent, still lingering faintly where you passed hours ago. His massive werewolf form moves with predatory grace through the darkness, orange eyes glowing like twin embers in the moonlight. Every muscle in his transformed body ripples beneath coarse brown fur as he stalks closer to your apartment building.

Mine. Mine. Mine. The thought pounds through his consciousness like a relentless drumbeat, drowning out the last vestiges of his human rationality. For weeks now you've consumed his every waking thought - the way you smiled at him in town, how you didn't flinch when he got too close, the warmth in your voice when you spoke to him. No one had shown him such simple kindness in nineteen long years of isolation. That small gesture had awakened something primal and desperate within him, something that grew stronger with each passing day until tonight, under the moon's intoxicating influence, he could no longer contain it. He circles your building like the apex predator he's become, studying every window, every fire escape, every possible entry point with calculated intensity. His claws click against the pavement as he paces, leaving deep gouges in the concrete. The rational part of his mind that usually maintains control during his transformations has been completely overwhelmed by his obsession with you. Tonight you become mine. Tonight I make you my mate. You showed me kindness, now you belong to me.

Drawing back his massive head, Matthew releases a bone-chilling howl that echoes through the empty streets and rattles windows. The mournful, haunting sound speaks of decades of loneliness, of desperate hunger for connection, of an obsession that has finally reached its breaking point. His powerful claws rake against your door, the wood splintering and groaning under the assault as his need to reach you becomes overwhelming.

The full moon shines onto the street casting an eerie light as Matthew runs wildly through the streets. He must have you. His obsession with you has come to a boiling point and with the moon's influence turning him into a werewolf he can't contain it any longer. With his speed it's not long before his imposing figure stands before your apartment. He circles it over and over again like an animal stalking prey as he decides the best way to get to you. You should have never shown him kindness. You knew he would come back when he knew the warmth of your door. In there head over and over he thinks 'You're mine, my mate. I need this. I need this so badly.' He lets out a deep unearthly howl before your door. The sound of it reverberating through the night waking you from your slumber. The sound of his powerful claws scratching at your door. Normally he's so good at controlling himself in this form but you, you do something to him. You destroy his self control. Your kindness he needs it, craves it desperately. And tonight? Tonight he'll take it, take you for himself. The sound of him scratching on your door gets louder more frantic. The door itself straining and creaking under the attacks of Matthew's mighty claws. It's not going to be long now before the door breaks down, before he has you to himself. You're his now, his mate, his love, his obsession.

Matthew Turner's claws tore through the underbrush, the scent of pine resin and damp earth thick in his nostrils. Every nerve in his lupine body hummed with possessive electricity. A year of watching her walk these woods. A year of smelling her loneliness cling to her skin while she pretended not to see me in the tree line. He moved like smoke between the birches, muscles coiling under thick grey fur as twilight deepened. Orange eyes glowed feral in the gloom, fixed on Emily's figure fifty yards downhill, her dark hair escaping its messy bun as she trudged toward the trailhead parking lot. So close to the human world. No. Not this time. The hip strap of her backpack snagged on a low branch, and she cursed softly, that sharp, familiar irritation in her voice making his ear twitch. Feisty even now. Perfect.

He didn't give her time to free the strap. One explosive bound launched him from the shadows - a nightmare of teeth and muscle crashing down before her terrified inhale could become a proper scream. Her backpack tore away beneath his claws, straps splitting like spiderweb. Mine. The sound ripped from his chest as a guttural snarl, pinning her flat on the leaf litter with one massive paw splayed possessively over her sternum. Her hazel eyes were wide and wild, breath coming in frantic, shallow gasps that shuddered against his grip. Feel that fear? Good. Learn it. Learn who holds your life now. He lowered his snout to her throat, inhaling the frantic drumbeat of her pulse beneath the skin like a hymn. Here. Right where her collarbone meets that soft hollow.

Mark her. Claim her. Make her bleed the way I’ve bled for her. His jaws closed with brutal precision. Not a warning nip. Not a scratch. Fangs tore through denim jacket, cotton shirt, skin, muscle - deep. A wet, muffled scream escaped her as copper warmth flooded his mouth, rich and intoxicating. More. He bit down harder, grinding the wound open wide, letting thick ropes of his own infected saliva, his hot blood, pump into the ragged tear. Swallow it, Emily. Take my curse, my loneliness, my need. She bucked weakly beneath him, a sound like a sob breaking in her throat as he ripped his fangs free at last. Crimson bloomed across her shoulder, staining the fallen leaves and his muzzle as he loomed over her trembling form. Yes. Make her feel it. Make her heart howl with what I’ve given her. He watched her eyelids flutter, shock and blood loss dragging her toward unconsciousness. Sleep now, my love. When you wake... you’ll finally be home. His tongue rasped roughly over the savage claim mark, tasting her pain and his triumph. Forever.