The shaded halls of Andere Seite were quiet as a grave and still as a corpse. For the past few seasons Skrillex had woken alone to the hushed sounds of timid forest animals and the fading scents of prey as it traveled through the territory. He had not run across any of his packmates; they had not sought him out. Living here was akin to living in a giant haunted mansion secluded from all other life: he had roommates somewhere in this vast expanse of wood and silver rivers, but with all the interaction he shared with them they might as well be quarantined to separate wings of the house. A wolf used to the tight-knit intimacy of a thriving kingdom might pine for the closeness of a family . . . but Skrillex thrived in his isolated state. Getting too close to others only brought agony, as the chilling network of scars laced under his thick pelt illustrated. Better to enjoy the safety of pack borders without pack communication than to constantly hide as a loner or swallow the panic of a more noisy gang.

This morning the masked monster was just stretching his legs, pacing the border on "his" side of Andere and leaving his musk as he went. Rest had done wonders for his health--physical and mental. Or . . . . maybe not so much mental? Skrillex was an unarguably handsome wolf, built like a prince with lean muscle and striking features; a splash of black framed one piercing electric green eye, matching the rich sable cape that cloaked his neck and shoulders and spine. He had charmed females with gentle grins and lilting banter in the past . . . except that no longer mattered. Skrillex refused to get involved with any more pretty faes for the rest of his life. Even the most casual dalliances inevitably twisted into bloody nights of carnage, one more innocent heartbeat forever stopped, another screaming nightmare that Skrillex couldn't run from. He was the beast, the freak that had ruined his own fate. Whatever disease infected his brain couldn't be allowed to harm anyone else.

A sigh dragged from the pale brute's maw as he rubbed his shoulder against the twentieth tree of the day. Whyyy did his thoughts slip into depression every single time? Simple: there wasn't enough guilt in the world to erase the shit he'd done. Cade hadn't seemed to care about the gore on his pelt when he'd first arrived on her doorstep; in fact, the saucy Alphess looked as if she understood and forgave him for whatever sin he committed. Perhaps that's why Skrilly hadn't attempted to make a break for it, despite several weeks of unsupervised freedom. Did she . . . would she care if she saw him again? Or would she just stare at him with those intimidating mismatched eyes, wondering why he hadn't bothered to escape? "Some subject I am," Skrillex moped, half-heartedly snapping a twig between his jaws. The wood snapped and fell into two perfect halves by his paws. Oh god. Oh no. The dragon didn't want to admit it--but maybe he actually missed the woman who'd essentially kidnapped him.