The Rut

Two days later, the madness returned. But this time, it was worse.

Feng didn't come to her room for the daily feeding. He locked himself in the west wing. Mei could hear him howling—a sound that was half-man, half-wolf, echoing through the stone halls.

The servants whispered. *The Rut.* The Alpha cycle. It happened once every few years. It was a biological hurricane that burned through energy reserves in hours.

If he didn't feed, he would turn feral permanently. He would become a mindless beast that would have to be put down by the Council.

Mei lay in her bed, unable to lift her head. She was fading fast now. Her vision was blurry at the edges.

The door burst open.

Feng stood there. He was shirtless, sweating, his skin flushed red. His eyes were blazing searchlights of crimson. He wasn't the CEO anymore. He was the thing from the basement.

"Mei," he groaned.

He stumbled to the bed. He ripped the covers off.

"Feng, please," Mei whispered. "I have nothing left. You'll kill me."

Feng looked at her. He saw the fragility of her bones. He saw the death hovering over her.

For a moment, clarity fought through the red haze. He hesitated. His hand hovered over her face, trembling.

"If I stop," he rasped, "I become the monster. I lose everything. The company. The estate. My mind."

"You are already the monster," Mei said softly.

The insult seemed to snap the last thread of his restraint. The Rut took over. The biological imperative to survive overrode the human capacity for mercy.

"I need it," he growled. "All of it."

He grabbed her. He didn't just bite her shoulder this time. He dragged her out of bed.

"Where are we going?" she cried weakly.

"The Ancestral Hall," Feng panted. "The ritual ground. I will not take you in a bed like a thief. I will take you on the altar like a king."

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