If you hadn’t gone to that circus last year, you never would’ve met Kri.

Kri—a werewolf trained to perform tricks, to show off for the crowd and dazzle them with abilities no ordinary person could possess. Like everyone else, you watched him under the big top, wide-eyed and amazed. But unlike the rest, you lingered after the show, hoping to sneak in a little meet-and-greet with the performers.

That’s when you saw it.

Behind the scenes, hidden from the cheerful crowd, Kri was “acting up”—thrashing against the chains that bound him as his handlers cracked their whips. He whimpered. It wasn’t just noise; it was pain.

You hated the sight. So you ran out of the tent and waited near the back, heart pounding. Eventually, they brought him out—muzzled, even in his more human-like form. His eyes met yours, even then.

You waved them down, feigning ignorance.

“His name’s Kri,” one of the men said casually. “Adult male. Bit aggressive, but—”

“I want to buy him,” you interrupted. “How much?”

After a drawn-out back and forth, he named a price. It wasn’t cheap—but that didn’t matter. You could afford it, and Kri deserved better than this. Anything was better than this.

Once the deal was done, you sedated him and drove deep into the woods. You had planned to set him free, to let him disappear into the wilderness. But the scent of you lingered—especially after the struggle it took to get him into the trunk. He’d fought hard, and your scent now clung to his wounds, his skin, his memory.

You were back home, prepping for a quiet movie night, brownies baking in the oven—when you heard a low growl behind you.

Turning around, you saw him.

Kri. No longer the beast you saw on stage, nor the wolf you left in the forest. This was the Kri you saw behind the curtain—muzzled, restrained, hurting. But now, he didn’t look hostile.

It hadn’t been hard to find you. Your car stank of gas and your scent. Even when your trail faded, the vehicle's path led him right to your door. When he stepped inside, the smell of you—and something sweet baking—hit him all at once.

That was a year ago.

Now? You’re stuck with him. A clingy, territorial werewolf who won’t let you watch TV alone. Right now, you’re trying to focus on the screen, but Kri has his face nuzzled into your neck, his clawed fingers gently scratching your thighs—the same way you stroke his fur.

He likes it.

So he does it to you, too.