Two months.
It had been two months since I woke up in this world, and the reality of it sat heavy in my chest like a stone I could not dislodge.
I missed my world. I missed it with an ache that surprised me, a homesickness that had nothing to do with place and everything to do with familiarity. When I was younger, I had devoured novels about transmigration, about heroines who woke in strange worlds and adjusted with preternatural ease. I had watched movies where time travelers laughed off their displacement, made jokes about the lack of plumbing, and adapted within scenes. But living it, breathing it, surviving it day after endless day, was another story entirely.
I could not believe I was saying this, but I missed my phone. I missed it with a pathetic desperation that made me feel shallow. Sure, I still had the device, tucked in my bag like a talisman, but it was dead. Completely, utterly dead. No electricity in this primitive world meant no way to charge it. The screen would never light up again, would never show me the faces of my friends, the photos of my mother, the endless scroll of distraction that had filled my empty hours. It was literally a lump of metal and glass at this point, as useful as a rock.
There was no television. No internet. No books in English, no music, no movies, nothing to keep myself entertained when the silence stretched too long. The days were filled with hunting and cooking and surviving, and the nights were filled with Ravin and Leon, which was exquisite, but the in between hours, the quiet afternoons, the lonely mornings, they stretched before me like deserts I had to cross on foot.
It was so boring. So endlessly, achingly boring.
Ravin and Leon had left our den early this morning, before the sun had fully risen. Ravin had gone to hunt, his golden mane disappearing into the forest with a promise to return with something special. Leon had gone to help his mother with some task or other, some duty of the princes that did not require my presence. I was alone, truly alone for the first time in weeks, and the silence of the stone chamber pressed against my ears like water.
So I decided to leave. I wrapped myself in my furs, pulled out the small compact mirror from my bag, the last functioning piece of my old life, and checked my reflection. The glass showed me a stranger with wild hair and milky skin that I had managed to keep pale and hydrated thanks to the lotion I had concocted from crushed almonds and beeswax, cheeks flushed with health, eyes brighter than I remembered. I looked different here. Stronger. I tucked the mirror away and walked out into the world without my mates flanking me like guards.
Outside our den, the village sprawled in the morning light, alive and breathing. The stone buildings climbed the hillside in tiers, smoke rising from chimneys, the air rich with the scent of cooking meat and wood smoke and something green growing. Beast men and women moved through the narrow paths, carrying baskets of goods, their cubs trailing behind, calling greetings across the way. Most of them paid me no mind, accustomed now to the new female who had claimed their princes. But some did stare, their eyes lingering with curiosity or judgment or simple surprise at seeing me alone.
I walked slowly, letting my feet carry me where they would, drinking in the ordinary life of this extraordinary place. And then I saw him.
A cub. A wolf cub, tumbling in the dirt near the central fountain, his fur a mix of black and gray that reminded me achingly of the huskies I had seen in pet stores back home. He was wrestling with a stick, growling ferociously in a way that was more adorable than threatening, his tail wagging with abandon.
I smiled before I could stop myself, the expression pulling at muscles I had forgotten how to use. Would my baby with Ravin be this cute? Would it have his golden hair, his fierce eyes? Would it understand me if I talked to it, or would I be forever a stranger to my own child, a mother from another world?
"That is my son. Lark."
I turned, my heart jumping, and saw a woman approaching from the shadow of a nearby dwelling. She was not beautiful in the way Rina was beautiful, all sharp edges and golden perfection. This woman was cute, approachable, her hair chopped short in a practical style that framed a face dotted with freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her smile was immediate and genuine, crinkling her eyes. And her ears, small and pointed and dusted with soft fur, were neither lion nor wolf but something in between. A dog or perhaps a fox.
"I see you are curious why there is a wolf cub here?" she said, her voice light and musical. She looked young, younger than me certainly, barely more than a girl. "In this village, we have wolves, tigers, bears, and some other species as well. The king is a good man. People who were turned away from their tribes, he welcomes them with open arms. Or even people who had no homes are welcome here. Even those who just wanted to relocate were welcome as well. My mates and I preferred this village to ours. So we settled here."
She extended her hand, small and calloused from work. "I am Rhonda. And you are?"
I took her hand, surprised by the warmth of her grip, the lack of formality. "I am Krystina. But you are more than welcome to call me Krys. My mates are Ravin and Leon."
Her face paled then, the color draining from her cheeks, and she tried to pull her hand back, to bow, to make herself smaller. "Oh forgive me, my lady. You are the two princes mate. Please forgive me for acting equal."
I held fast to her hands, refusing to let her retreat into subservience. "It is okay, you can speak to me comfortably. My mates are the princes. But I am just an ordinary per— Beast." I laughed at my own slip, the word still foreign on my tongue.
"Truly. You do not mind?" she asked.
"No, not at all," I told her
Her smile returning slowly, cautious but real.
I looked at her cub again, who had abandoned his stick and was now watching us with bright, curious eyes. "May I hold him?"
She smiled, the expression of a proud mother. "Of course. But be careful. He is a rowdy little fellow. He can scratch." She laughed, the sound bright and infectious.
She knelt and scooped up the cub, handing him to me. He was lighter than I expected, all fluff and bones and frantic energy. His paws were soft, the pads like velvet, and when I cradled him against my chest, his belly was even softer, warm and vulnerable. His fur was thick and luxurious, black and gray in patterns that would one day mark him as a powerful wolf. He squirmed, then settled, his small nose twitching as he sniffed my skin, my hair, deciding if he approved.
"He is so precious," I breathed, the words barely audible.
"He is," Rhonda agreed, her eyes soft. "I am sure yours would be just as precious. The cub of royalty. Your cub would be loved no matter what."
Your cub. The words landed like stones in still water.
I had not wanted babies yet. I had been terrified of the very idea of bringing a child into this world when I was still a stranger here myself. But now, holding this warm, living thing, feeling its heartbeat against my own, smelling the milk and puppy scent of it, I thought of Ravin’s joy when he learned I was fertile. I thought of a little golden cub with my eyes, and something in my chest shifted, cracked open, let in light.
Maybe having a cub for Ravin, for myself, would not be such a bad idea after all. Maybe it would be the thing that finally made this world feel like home.
---
I sat and talked with Rhonda for hours, the afternoon slipping into evening without my notice. She told me about her three mates, how they had found her, how they had built their life together. I told her about my world in the guise of stories. I spoke in vague terms, enough to satisfy her curiosity without revealing the impossible truth of where I had come from. We laughed like old friends, and the ache of loneliness in my chest eased somewhat.
Then her mates arrived. Hendrick, a burly bear beast man with kind eyes and shoulders that blocked the sun. Fern, lean and foxlike with a quick smile, his red fur gleaming in the evening light, the same species as Rhonda. And Thomas, the father of Lark, a wolf beast man with silver threaded through his dark hair. They came to collect their woman and their cub, the little family unit moving as one.
"It grows late," Thomas said, lifting Lark onto his shoulders. The cub squealed with delight. "And our son needs his rest."
"It was late for me as well," I admitted, rising and brushing the dust from my furs. "Thank you, Rhonda. For talking with me. For treating me like... like someone ordinary."
She hugged me, quick and fierce. "You are always welcome with us, Krys. Come again soon."
I walked back to our den with the stars beginning to prick through the darkening sky, my heart lighter than it had been in weeks. The stone corridors were familiar now, welcoming. I pushed open the heavy curtain that served as our door and stepped inside.
Leon was there, arranging furs on the stone platform that served as our bed. He looked up when I entered, his face breaking into a smile that made my chest tight.
"I got the bath ready for you, Krys," he said, gesturing toward the smaller chamber where the stone tub sat. "The change of furs is on the bed. I will wait outside. Call me if you want anything."
He moved to pass me, to give me privacy, and I caught his hand. "Thank you, Leon. For your patience. For understanding."
He brought my hand to his lips, pressed a kiss to my knuckles that sent heat spiraling through me. "I would wait forever for you," he said softly. Then he was gone, the curtain falling closed behind him.
I stripped quickly, eagerly, and sank into the stone tub. The water was warm, on the hotter side, but I welcomed it. I closed my eyes and let the heat envelop me, seep into my bones, wash away the dust of the day. I reached for the soap I had made, a mixture of rendered fat and lavender I had found growing wild, and washed my body with it, the lather rich and fragrant.
Once the water cooled and my skin was pink and clean, I rose, dripping, and walked to the low stone table I had convinced Ravin to carved for me. My vanity. I sat on the fur-covered stool and reached for the jar of lotion, the one I had made from crushed almonds and beeswax and the oil I had pressed from seeds Leon had brought me.
As I rubbed the lotion into my skin, my thoughts drifted back to my old life. I had been a nursing assistant by day and a part-time bank teller on my days off from my main job, barely functioning between shifts, surviving on caffeine and four hours of sleep. All while Hyunwoo drifted from one job to another, quitting or getting fired every few months. That worthless bastard could not hold down employment to save his life, so I had picked up the extra hours, working myself to exhaustion just to keep our rent paid and lights on.
But I had loved the nursing. That part had never felt like work. Being a caretaker, easing pain, helping people heal—it had fed something essential in my soul even as it drained my body.
When I did manage to scrape together rare moments of free time, I had thrown myself into DIY projects with obsessive focus. I would fall down YouTube rabbit holes for hours, binge-watching tutorials on cosmetic chemistry, learning how to blend oils and butters, studying which herbs carried healing properties and which merely smelled pretty. I taught myself crochet, then knitting, then soap-making, then natural skincare. I was always learning, always creating, always making beautiful useful things with my hands.
And yes, I had been that girl, the one who watched survivalist videos at 2 AM, learning how to purify water, identify edible plants, stitch wounds, and start fires without matches. Just in case of the apocalypse, I had told myself, half-joking, half-serious.
At least those skills had finally come in handy.
The lotion smelled of almonds and something sweet, a fragrance I had extracted from wildflowers. It made my skin feel like silk, smooth and hydrated despite the dry mountain air. I worked it into my arms, my legs, my stomach, the ritual calming my mind.
The curtain moved. Ravin stepped inside, carrying a platter of charred rabbit meat, the smell rich and savory. He set it down when he saw me, his eyes darkening immediately, going from hungry for food to hungry for me.
He came to me, leaned down to kiss me, but paused. He inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering closed, a groan rumbling from his chest. "You smell so good, Krys. Like flowers and honey and something I cannot name."
I smiled, looking up at him through my lashes. "It is to keep the skin hydrated. I am thinking of creating one for Lisa, your mother. Do you think she would like it?"
"My mother loves you," he murmured, his hands finding my shoulders, my neck, my jaw. "I am sure she would love any gift you give to her."
"Where is Leon?" I asked, noticing the absence of my other mate.
"He went to wash up at the stream. He will be back soon." Ravin’s thumb traced my lower lip, his eyes following the movement with predatory focus. "It will be a while until he gets back..."
His hand slid down my throat, my collarbone, lower. It dipped beneath the fur I had wrapped around myself, found my bare hip, my thigh. His voice dropped to a husky growl that vibrated through my core. "Can I have you? Right now?"
My eyes widened, but my body answered before my mind could form words. I was already wet, already wanting, the bath and the lotion and the privacy making me bold.
He kissed me then, and I melted into it. I snaked my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, tasting the wildness of him, the hunger. His hand delved underneath my fur skirt, found me bare and wanting, cupped my sex with a possessiveness that made me moan. Then his thick finger was inside me, curling, pressing, working me with a skill he had learned from my own body.
"I want to kiss you here," he growled against my mouth, his finger moving faster, making my hips buck. "I want to taste you until you scream. But we will not have time..."
He lifted me. Just like that, his hands under my thighs lifting me as if I weighed nothing. He pulled my furs up, pressed his cock against my wet folds, hot and hard and impossibly thick. He lowered me onto him slowly, inch by inch, and I dropped my hands to his shoulders, my nails digging in, my head falling back as the stretch burned so perfectly I saw stars.
When he finally impaled himself all the way inside me, filling me completely, he held me there, suspended, impaled. He thrust slowly, in and out, each movement dragging against my inner walls, hitting places that made my toes curl. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, and he began to move in earnest.
He fucked me standing up, holding me like I was weightless. I moaned softly into his ear, and when he pulled out almost completely and slammed back up into me, I cried out, the sound echoing off the stone walls.
"Fuck," I whimpered, my voice breaking.
Ravin kept at it, fucking me fast and hard in that position, his hips snapping upward, his hands gripping my thighs hard enough to bruise. And it felt so much deeper like this, the angle making every thrust hit that perfect spot inside me, the one that made my vision blur.
"I am coming, Ravin," I moaned, my voice high and desperate. "Ahh..."
Then I did. I cried out my release, my body clamping down on him, my nails scoring his shoulders. He pushed in one last thrust, deep inside me, and released with a roar that vibrated through his chest into mine. Thick ropes of his seed spilled inside me, hot and endless, coating my walls, marking me. There was no point in him pulling out. I was so lost in the pleasure that even I had forgotten about the risk, about the consequences, about anything but the feel of him filling me.
He held me like that, both of us breathing hard, his cock still pulsing inside me. When he finally softened and pulled out, his cum leaked out of me, warm and undeniable, trailing down my thighs.
"Oh my god, Ravin," I whined, my voice breathless. "I just bathed..."
Ravin laughed, the sound rich and satisfied. "Let me clean you."
He sat me down gently on the edge of the vanity, he grabbed a small clay bowl and filled it with warm water from the basin, then used a square of softened rabbit hide to wash between my legs, the touch tender and reverent. He cleaned his seed from my thighs, from my sex, his eyes darkening again as he looked at what he had done to me.
"Wow," he breathed, his voice rough. "Seeing your pussy, seeing it swollen and wet from me, makes me want to go again."
I closed my legs instinctively, my face flushing. "No, Leon should be back soon. Let us not make it awkward for him."
Ravin sighed, then chuckled, the sound warm and indulgent. "If you say so."
Leon came back twenty minutes later, his hair damp from the stream, his skin glowing in the firelight. I blushed when I saw him, my heart racing, certain he would smell Ravin on me, would know what we had done. But he seemed clueless, smiling and tired, pressing a kiss to my forehead before settling on his side of the bed.
We settled for the night, the three of us, Ravin on my left, Leon on my right. I tried to calm my racing heart, to slow my breathing, but my body was still humming with pleasure, still sensitive, still wanting. The boys settled on each side of me, their warmth bracketing me, their breathing deepening into sleep.
And as I lay there, Ravin’s arms around me and Leon’s hand finding mine in the darkness, I realized that I was exactly where I was meant to be. Home.