The forest pulsed with danger.
Every shadow twitched. Every leaf trembled. The air—thick, damp, and charged—carried the scent of blood, pine, and something darker.
Luna Everleigh didn't stop running.
Her breath came in harsh gasps. Twigs scraped her legs. Her bare feet were raw, but she didn't care. The howls were behind her—closer now. They'd been chasing her for hours, maybe longer. Time blurred in this cursed forest where moonlight never reached the ground.
She wasn't supposed to be here. No one was.
The Elders warned everyone in her village: "The Shadowlands belong to the cursed. Step across, and you'll never return."
But she had.
And now she was being hunted.
Something snapped behind her. Too close.
Luna spun, chest heaving, ready to fight. But before she could raise her fists, he was there.
Tall. Silent. Devastating.
He stepped through the trees like a phantom carved from obsidian and shadow. His eyes glowed gold in the darkness, slitted and unholy. Muscles rippled beneath a black shirt soaked in rain and sweat. Power poured off him—heavy, feral, ancient.
And when he inhaled, the world seemed to stop.
His lips parted. His nostrils flared.
"Mine," he growled.
Luna backed up instinctively, her spine slamming into a tree. Her heartbeat thundered. She should've screamed. Fought. Run.
But her body betrayed her.
Heat curled low in her belly. Her skin prickled with awareness. Her wolf stirred violently inside her—something she hadn't felt in years.
"No," she whispered.
"Yes," he snarled, voice like thunder. "I've waited too long. I've searched too far. And now I've found you."
He moved too fast to track—one second distant, the next pressing her to the tree. His scent invaded her lungs: wild earth, lightning storms, and danger. One hand gripped her waist, the other curled around her throat, not tight, but possessive.
His breath brushed her ear. "You're mine, little wolf."
"I don't belong to you," she hissed, trying to shove him back. He didn't budge.
"You do," he said simply. "The moment your blood touched this land, the curse woke. My curse. And you... you smell like fate."
Luna snarled, shifting her claws—but the moment she touched him, **everything ignited**.
Power surged through her arm, wild and electric. Her vision blurred. Her body arched into his, overwhelmed by a primal force she couldn't name.
She gasped, trying to break free.
His hand slipped down, gripping her thigh, lifting it against his hip. She could feel every inch of him—hard, ready, dangerous. He leaned in, nose brushing her cheek.
"I've dreamed of this moment. Of your scent. Your skin. Your screams." His voice was a growl of barely-leashed hunger. "You are the key, Luna Everleigh. The trigger. The mate fate promised me… and the curse that will damn us both."
"How do you know my name?" she breathed.
His smile was feral. "Because I marked you the moment you were born."
Her blood ran cold.
"What the hell are you?"
He licked a slow line down her neck, then whispered the truth like a prayer.
"I am Kieran Draven. Alpha of Bloodfang. Cursed beast. God-slayer. And now…"
His fangs grazed her skin.
"Your mate."
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