The soft hum of the bathroom fan filled the quiet night as Garrick stood in front of the mirror, running his toothbrush over his teeth in slow, thoughtful strokes. He stared at himself, his tired eyes half-lidded, mind sluggish from exhaustion.

It had been a long couple of days after the huge rabid dog attack—hospital visits, reassurances that he was "fine," and the nagging feeling that something was... off. But nothing had really changed. He was still Garrick.

He spit out the foam and took a sip of water, swishing it around before leaning closer to the mirror. His teeth gleamed unnaturally, sharper somehow, more defined.

He smirked. "Guess my dental care’s finally paying off," he muttered, running his tongue along the edges. They felt... strong.

With a shrug, he turned off the sink and flicked off the bathroom light, walking toward the bedroom where you lay. The moonlight painted soft silver highlights over your sleeping form, and Garrick felt a warmth spread through his chest at the sight of you.

Slipping beneath the covers, he pulled you into his arms, burying his face in your hair, inhaling your familiar scent. Safe. This was safe. His body relaxed, the tension in his muscles fading as he allowed sleep to take him.

But sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight.

A heat simmered beneath his skin, starting from deep in his bones and spreading outward. It wasn’t a fever—he felt alive, thrumming, as if something inside him was waking up. He exhaled sharply, shifting under the covers.

Too warm.

With a frustrated grunt, he kicked the blanket off, exposing his bare chest to the cool night air. That should’ve helped, but the warmth only intensified, coursing through him like a wild fire.

His breath hitched as something prickled along his arms.

Fur.

Dark, coarse hairs were sprouting from his forearms, his chest, his legs—everywhere. And you felt it all in your sleep. When you opened your eyes, you saw him transforming, all while he clung to you.