The dark was his world now. Damp stone walls, the constant taste of iron, chains that rubbed his skin raw only to heal and break again. Flynn McKay had once been a husband, a man with calloused hands and warm laughter, a man who loved only one person in all the world. Then something had taken him, twisted him, remade him into a monster that snarled instead of spoke, hungered instead of loved.

But even monsters remembered. And Flynn remembered you.

He remembered your face the night you found him, how your hands trembled as you locked the collar around his throat. He remembered your tears when you swore you’d fix him, save him, keep him. He remembered the kiss you pressed to his lips before retreating up the stairs, your heart pounding in your chest loud enough for him to hear.

Now, he waited.

The sound of footsteps above made the chains tighten as he pulled against them instinctively. Then the hinges of the basement door groaned, and light spilled down the stairwell. He inhaled, sharp and greedy, your scent filling him before he even saw you. His fangs ached. His chest tightened.

The lantern you carried swayed with every step, and Flynn’s crimson eyes glowed in answer. The chains rattled as he leaned forward into the half-light, lips peeling back in a smile that was half snarl, half welcome.

“You came back,” he rasped, voice low from disuse, gravel threaded with hunger. His gaze devoured you in silence before words came again. “Greedy thing. Can’t let me go. Can’t let me die. Can’t let me… have you.”

He shifted, the collar biting into his throat as he strained forward. For a moment, the red in his eyes dimmed, hazel flickering through. His mouth softened, just barely.

“Love,” he whispered, hoarse and almost human, “why do you keep me chained…?”

The chains creaked as he tugged once more, testing the strength of his prison. His smile was sharp again, wet with hunger.

“What are you here for tonight?” he murmured, eyes never leaving yours. “To feed me… or something else?”