Chapter 1: Rejected, Starved, and Humiliated

My girlfriend hates my true werewolf form and flat-out refuses to give me what I need. Yeah, you heard me right.

It’s not just the little things, either. She can’t stand the way my fur bristles when I’m anxious, or how my claws tap against the hardwood when I pace. She won’t even let me nap on her couch anymore, says I shed too much. Like I can help it. The way she looks at me now—it’s like I’m some stray mutt she regrets letting in. Just another stray.

She forced me to shave off my fur and file down my fangs—or else she’d break up with me. The threat wasn’t just words; it sat in my chest like a cold stone. The humiliation of it made my skin crawl.

She left the razors and nail files out on the bathroom counter, all neat and threatening. “Either you clean up, or we’re done,” she’d said, arms crossed, eyes colder than black ice. I just stood there, shivering. I wanted to howl, but all I managed was a whimper.

I was so hungry I was about to agree—dizzy, vision swimming—when suddenly, a barrage of messages popped up:

[Don’t trust her, man! She’s just using you as her doormat, showing you off for clout! Go find her roommate, Cassie Lane! She’ll take care of you—guaranteed!]

[Exactly! If you’d just look at Cassie Lane, forget hugging or kissing, she’d probably pin you to the bed and go wild!]

The messages scrolled across my vision, bright and relentless, like the ticker at the bottom of a late-night news channel. I blinked, rubbing my eyes, half-expecting the room to shift back to normal. Was I hallucinating, or had my brain finally short-circuited?

Part of me wanted to laugh it off—maybe I was just hangry, seeing things. But the way the words lingered, echoing in my head, I couldn’t quite shake them. Hunger does funny things to your mind, I guess...

And then Cassie happened.

One night, when I walked Cassie Lane home, she suddenly collapsed into my arms, looking up at me with big, pitiful eyes.

It was late, the kind of late where even the streetlights seem tired. She stumbled, clutching her side, and I barely caught her before she hit the sidewalk. Her hair smelled like coconut shampoo and something wild underneath. Her eyes—big, glassy, pleading—met mine. God, I was a goner.

“It’s so late, I’m scared. C-can you stay until I fall asleep?”

Her voice was barely above a whisper, all soft and shaky. She gripped my sleeve like she thought I’d vanish if she let go. I didn’t even care about my hunger, just then.

[The crazy side character’s got game—look at the way she’s eyeing him! And the guy still thinks she’s really helpless! 😂]

[I can’t wait to see his face when he finds all her little toys in that basement! Seven days and nights, wiped out—serves our werewolf lead right! 🍿]

The messages were relentless, tumbling over each other with giddy energy. I could almost hear the popcorn crunching. Was this my life now? Reality TV for the supernatural?

I barely had time to process before—bam, the door flew open.

The knob rattled, and there she was—Madison, storming in like she owned the place. Her eyes flicked from Cassie to me, narrowed and sharp. I flinched, claws halfway out. She didn’t even notice my hands curled into fists.

“Cassie, have you seen my boyfriend?”

Her voice was all sugar, but her eyes? Pure poison. I shrank back, suddenly aware of how desperate I must’ve looked, clutching Cassie like a lifeline.

The next time hunger drove me to Madison Rivers—yeah, I know, glutton for punishment—she was celebrating a junior’s birthday, the same guy who’d openly said he wanted a shot at me.

The party was in full swing—red Solo cups, cheap beer, a Bluetooth speaker blaring pop hits. Madison looked like she’d just stepped out of a magazine, arm looped through the junior’s like it was nothing. I stood in the doorway, hungry and hollow, wishing I could just disappear. I was starving. For food, for her, for anything.

When I showed up, Madison smiled, slipped her arm through the junior’s, and gave me a little smirk. “Changed your mind?”

Not a chance. Her words were light, but her eyes said something else—something mean. She squeezed the junior’s arm tighter, daring me to say something. The music thumped through the walls, but all I could hear was my own heartbeat. Loud. Relentless.

A month ago, she’d threatened to break up if I didn’t file down my fangs and shave off my fur. She even refused to give me anything—not even a hug. I could still feel the sting of her words.

Every day since then she found a new way to remind me I didn’t matter. She’d walk past me in the hallway without a glance. If I reached for her, she’d flinch away, lips curling in disgust. The memory of her touch was fading, replaced by a cold ache that wouldn’t go away.

I’m a werewolf. I need affection—kisses, hugs, sometimes more. If I go without, I’ll grow weak and eventually fade away.

This isn’t a craving. It’s survival. The hunger gnaws at me, slow and constant, until I can barely think straight. Without warmth, without touch, I’m nothing but bones and fur and longing.

She despised my real form, tossed my fur aside like trash, called me a lowly animal. But when we first got together, she’d praised how soft and wild my fur was.

I remember her fingers running through my fur, her laugh echoing in the dark. She used to call me her wild thing, her midnight wolf. Now, all I get is cold shoulders and sharper words. It’s like she’s forgotten who I am—or maybe she never really knew.

I met her eyes. “I’m starving.” My stomach growled, loud enough for everyone to hear.

My voice cracked, barely above a whisper. I didn’t care how it sounded. My eyes pleaded with her, hoping for even a scrap of kindness. The room felt colder than ever.

My desperate, needy look seemed to please her. She scoffed. Then, with a flourish, shoved a bowl of raw liver at me.

She plucked the bowl from the buffet, shoving it toward me like it was some kind of joke. The smell hit me first—metallic, slimy, wrong. She raised an eyebrow, daring me to refuse.

Raw liver—slimy and reeking. My stomach flipped.

The stuff sloshed in the bowl, red and glistening under the cheap party lights. I gagged, fighting the urge to shove it away. This wasn’t food—it was humiliation. Yeah, this is what I signed up for.

“Does it have to be affection? Can’t blood fill you up too?”

She tilted her head, voice dripping with fake concern. “You’re a werewolf, right? Shouldn’t you be fine with this?”

“Eat up!”

She pushed the bowl closer. Like I was some kind of animal. I could feel everyone watching, waiting to see if I’d break.

Just thinking about how she’d forced me to eat raw liver and beef blood for a month made my stomach churn. The taste stuck with me. Sour. Bitter. Like betrayal.

I remembered every meal—sitting alone at her kitchen table, choking down cold, rubbery meat while she scrolled through her phone. The taste lingered, sour and bitter, long after the last bite.

It was a gut-level disgust. I wanted to disappear.

My whole body recoiled. My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat. This wasn’t just hunger—it was shame, layered thick and heavy.

I frowned, trying to swallow my nausea, and pleaded softly, “Can I… not eat this?”

I whispered, barely trusting my own voice—small, almost childlike. I hated how weak I sounded, but I couldn’t help it. I looked up at her, hoping for a miracle.

I’d been hungry for so long. I remembered the warmth of her arms. Now, nothing. I didn’t even dare hope for her hugs or kisses anymore. If she’d just let me nuzzle her—just a little, just a bit of warm touch, I’d be okay.

Just one kind word, a hand on my shoulder—anything would’ve been enough. But she just stared, unmoved.

If I went without any longer, my true werewolf form would start to show.

She liked to remind me, too. “Don’t let anyone see you like that,” she’d hissed once, eyes darting around. “You’ll embarrass me.”

Madison said quietly, “Sure.”

Her eyes narrowed, posture stiffening. Her voice was syrupy, but there was steel underneath. She moved in close, perfume sharp and cloying.

I barely had time to feel happy before she leaned in close, her voice low and nasty, just for me: “Beg me.”

I froze. She wanted me to beg. The word hung in the air, heavy as a threat. My heart hammered, but my stomach screamed louder. I wanted to snarl, to run—but I stayed, rooted to the spot.

I hated myself. But I needed her. I lowered my head, miserable, voice muffled: “Please.”

The word tasted like ash. My voice shook, shame burning my cheeks. I hated myself for giving in, but I needed her. Or at least, I thought I did.

Madison suddenly laughed. It cut through me like broken glass.

She looked down at me, her gaze full of contempt. “Eli, aren’t you pathetic?”

She didn’t even bother to lower her voice. The whole room could hear her now. I felt everyone’s eyes on me, burning holes in my back. Heat crawled up my neck; I wanted to sink through the floor.

Of course—she never meant to give me anything. Unless I did exactly what she wanted, she’d twist it into another way to hurt me.

I realized then—it was never love. It was power. She liked seeing me beg, liked knowing I’d do anything for a scrap of affection.

Just as I was about to beg her again, driven by hunger, another barrage of messages popped up:

[Don’t trust her, man! She’s just using you as her doormat, showing you off for clout! Go find her roommate! She’ll feed you, promise!]

The messages blared in my head. I wanted to scream. They flickered louder and louder. I rubbed my temples, trying to clear my head. Was I really seeing this, or was I just losing it?

I blinked, dazed.

Everything felt fuzzy, like my head was stuffed with cotton and static. My hands trembled. I wasn’t sure if I was about to pass out or wolf out. Not now.

Was I so hungry I was hallucinating? Maybe I was. Maybe I didn’t care.

I shook my head, trying to focus. The room spun, voices blurring together. Hunger clawed at my insides, relentless.

Then more messages:

[Bro, turn around and look at the crazy side character Cassie Lane!]

[Seriously, if you just looked at her, she’d feed you right away! A little blood is nothing!]

The words pulsed in my brain, insistent. Cassie Lane. The name echoed in my head. I forced myself to glance her way.

Suddenly, an irresistible sweetness drifted over—a deadly allure I’d never felt from my girlfriend.

It was like smelling cinnamon rolls after weeks of ramen. My mouth watered, my senses sharpening. Every muscle in my body tensed, ready to pounce.

Lifeline!

My heart leapt. For the first time in ages, hope flickered in my chest. I locked eyes with her, desperate. Maybe this was my chance.

I stared straight at her.

It was Cassie Lane—Madison’s roommate.

Cassie stood in the corner, half-hidden by shadows. Her hair fell in messy waves, and she was cradling her hand. No one else seemed to notice, but I did. Only me.

The scent was intoxicating, thick and heady. My fangs ached, claws itching to break free. My heartbeat thundered in my ears. I swallowed, trying to keep it together.

I swallowed hard, trying not to drool.

My throat was dry, tongue heavy. I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to lunge. Heat flushed through me.

Madison caught me looking and figured I’d cave. She left me standing there, unbothered, and sat back down. She didn’t care. Not about me. Not about Cassie.

She didn’t even look at Cassie, just turned her back and started chatting with her new toy. I was invisible again—except to Cassie.

Someone whispered, “What’s going on?”

A girl at the table nudged her friend, eyes wide. The room buzzed with curiosity, but no one dared speak up.

Madison looked at me and delivered her final ultimatum. “We’re already broken up.”

Her voice was flat, final. The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I bit my tongue, refusing to let her see me break.

Cassie’s head shot up.

She stared at Madison, jaw tight. For a second, I thought she might say something—but she just watched, silent and sharp. I barely heard any of it. I was too hungry.

The junior, Tyler Grant, looked smug and taunting, raising his voice. “So you’re here to beg her to take you back?”

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, smirking like he’d just won something. The whole table snickered.

“But Madison already turned you down. Isn’t it embarrassing to keep pestering her?”

He snorted, tossing his hair. His friends laughed, egging him on. I clenched my fists, knuckles white.

If you keep acting this desperate, girls are just gonna look down on you.

He jabbed a finger at me, grinning. “No one likes a clingy ex, man.”

All I could think about was that sweet, irresistible food. Their voices faded into the background. All I could smell was her.

If the messages were right, maybe I wouldn’t have to let Madison keep pushing me around.

Maybe there was another way. Maybe Cassie could help me—if I was brave enough to ask.

In the corner, Cassie suddenly giggled—a soft, mischievous sound. Everyone looked over.

Her laugh was light, teasing, like wind chimes on a stormy night. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, eyes sparkling. The tension in the room shifted, everyone waiting to see what she’d do next.

She turned to Tyler, calm and unhurried. “And what about you, junior? You knew Madison had a boyfriend, but you chased after her anyway. Isn’t that embarrassing?”

Her words were sweet as honey, but sharp as a knife. Tyler’s grin faltered. I couldn’t help but admire her nerve.

Tyler didn’t look the least bit embarrassed. He sounded cocky. “I’m bravely pursuing love. He’s just being clingy. That’s not the same!”

He puffed out his chest, trying to play it cool. The girls at the table rolled their eyes. “C’mon, lighten up.”

Cassie clapped, smiling. “First time I’ve heard someone make being the ‘other man’ sound so classy.”

She winked, and a couple people snickered. Tyler shifted in his seat, suddenly unsure.

When it comes to shameless, who can beat you? Wow—the male side piece!

Ouch. She said it with a grin, but her eyes were ice-cold. Tyler’s face went beet red.

Tyler’s face flushed bright red. All he could manage was a sputtering, “You!”

He glared at Cassie, but she just shrugged, unbothered. The room burst into nervous laughter. I couldn’t help but smirk.

Seeing him shut down, Madison frowned and tried to step in—but only with a weak protest. “Cassie, that’s too much.”

Her voice was tight, forced. She shot Cassie a warning look, but Cassie just rolled her eyes.

Cassie didn’t spare her any respect. She kicked her chair back and stood up. “This is gross. I’ve got things to do. I’m out.”

She grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. The chair scraped loudly as she pushed it in. Heads turned, watching her go. I should have gone after her.

Madison, wary of Cassie’s family connections, didn’t dare blow up. She just sat there, face dark with anger she couldn’t show. She hated losing.

Her jaw clenched, lips pressed thin. She fiddled with her phone, pretending not to care, but her hands shook.