[Bren watched Essek move away, and something in him ached to cry out for him to stay, but he wouldn't. He would never risk the other man's safety, could not bear the thought of hurting him, could not bear the thought of losing him the way he'd lost his family.
So it was best for him to be far from him.
The change began with a strange, sickening cracking as his joints and bones dislocated and broke before reforming in a new and inhuman shape. They shifted beneath his skin, and Bren felt as if his entire body was tearing apart. It was always this way, always pain. There were some werewolves who had learned to control the change enough that it did not feel like being torn limb from limb, but Trent had never saw any reason for his wolves to learn that. The pain would hone them into something sharper, more dangerous.
Bren's mouth opened, lips parting around a silent cry of agony. He did not scream. He was not allowed to scream. He did arch sharply off the bed, straining against his bindings as his body reshaped itself.
Fur crawled its way over his body, a familiar ginger color, as if even being a monster could not change that part of him. Eventually the change ended and he collapsed back to the bed, a low, lupine whine slipping free. He was larger than he'd been, wicked fangs and sharp claws, lean, dangerous muscle beneath the thick finger fur. His eyes though, they remained a familiar bright blue. He panted softly, catching his breath back from the transformation.]
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So it was best for him to be far from him.
The change began with a strange, sickening cracking as his joints and bones dislocated and broke before reforming in a new and inhuman shape. They shifted beneath his skin, and Bren felt as if his entire body was tearing apart. It was always this way, always pain. There were some werewolves who had learned to control the change enough that it did not feel like being torn limb from limb, but Trent had never saw any reason for his wolves to learn that. The pain would hone them into something sharper, more dangerous.
Bren's mouth opened, lips parting around a silent cry of agony. He did not scream. He was not allowed to scream. He did arch sharply off the bed, straining against his bindings as his body reshaped itself.
Fur crawled its way over his body, a familiar ginger color, as if even being a monster could not change that part of him. Eventually the change ended and he collapsed back to the bed, a low, lupine whine slipping free. He was larger than he'd been, wicked fangs and sharp claws, lean, dangerous muscle beneath the thick finger fur. His eyes though, they remained a familiar bright blue. He panted softly, catching his breath back from the transformation.]