Chapter 2: Shadows Beneath the Trees
The night had teeth. Louve could feel them grazing the edges of her thoughts as she pressed deeper into the forest, its ancient hush broken only by the brittle crunch of leaves under her boots. The cold was merciless, curling through her tattered cloak, but it was the silence that dug deepest, as if the woods themselves were holding their breath.
The Bloodmoon rose behind her, bleeding its eerie red light over the horizon. It painted her pale skin in shades of crimson, a mark of omen, of prophecy. To the wolves of the highlands, the sight of her in this light was sin enough—a cursed thing walking beneath the moon.
Her stomach clawed with hunger. Two days without food left her hands trembling, her body sluggish. She had tried snaring rabbits, but the traps remained empty, as though even the smallest creatures had fled from her scent. Perhaps they knew what she was. Perhaps everything did.
She stopped, pressing a palm to the rough bark of a tree, letting her breath steady. The chill of the trunk seeped into her skin, grounding her, though nothing could still the restless whisper in her mind: You’re being watched.
Louve tightened her grip on the dagger strapped to her thigh. It wasn’t much—a blade dulled by years and abuse—but steel was steel, and steel could kill if thrust deep enough. She scanned the trees. Shadows stretched long and thin, curling like claws around the trunks. Nothing moved, yet her pulse climbed.
“Out so late, little wolf?”
The voice slithered through the dark, smooth and deep enough to make the hairs on her arms rise. She spun toward it, blade raised, but saw only darkness between the trees. Her breath hitched. She hated that sound—the tremor of fear—and she hated even more that he would hear it.
“I’m not looking for trouble,” she said, forcing the words to steady.
A low chuckle. It was close this time. Too close. “Funny thing about trouble, sweetheart—it doesn’t care what you’re looking for.”
He stepped into view then, as if pulled from the shadows themselves. The Bloodmoon light caught the sharp lines of his jaw first, then his eyes silver, cold, and burning like moonfire. His presence was vast, a storm given shape, and Louve’s throat tightened because she knew that face. Every outcast knew it.
Kael Draven.
The Alpha of the Bloodmoon Pack.
Louve’s grip on the dagger faltered for a fraction of a second—long enough for him to notice. His lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You planning to stab me with that?” He tilted his head, silver eyes glinting. “Adorable.”
Her spine stiffened. “Stay away from me.”
“Or what?” His tone was lazy, but there was weight behind it—authority that pressed like an unseen hand against her skin. “You’ll cut me?” He took a step closer, and she could smell him now—wild earth and iron and something darker, like smoke after rain. The scent coiled around her senses, dangerous and intoxicating.
She forced her blade higher. “I’ll do worse.”
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them, taut as a bowstring. Then he laughed, low and sharp, and the sound tangled with the whispering wind. “I believe you would try,” he said softly. “That’s what makes this interesting.”
Louve’s jaw locked. “What do you want?”
Kael’s gaze dragged over her—her ragged clothes, her trembling hands, the hollow hunger in her eyes. He didn’t answer immediately, and that silence said more than words ever could. When he finally spoke, it was almost gentle. Almost.
“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
Her chest tightened. She hated the way the words curled around her like a warning, hated the way they made something deep inside her ache. “I’ve managed so far.”
“Barely,” he murmured, and something flickered in his expression—a shadow of something softer, before it hardened again. “You’re starving.”
The truth hit like a blade to the ribs because she couldn’t deny it, and gods, she hated that he could see it so clearly. Her fingers clenched around the dagger. “That’s none of your concern.”
But his next words froze her in place.
“It is,” he said, voice low, threaded with something dangerous. “Because you belong to me.”
The forest seemed to tilt. The cold in her bones turned molten, burning through her veins as his words sank in, slow and merciless. She stared at him, at the Alpha who should have killed her on sight, and for the first time, fear and something far more treacherous twined together in her chest.
Mate.
The word wasn’t spoken, but it was there, a silent howl in the space between their breaths.
Louve’s grip on the blade loosened, her hand falling to her side as she fought for air. “You’re lying,” she whispered, though even to her own ears, it sounded like a plea.
Kael stepped closer, his shadow swallowing hers. His eyes burned like twin moons, and when he spoke, the forest held its breath.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” he said, voice like velvet over steel.
She opened her mouth, but the words wouldn’t come—not when her pulse thundered like war drums, not when the bond’s pull yanked at the marrow of her bones. She hated him for it. She hated herself more.
Kael’s fingers brushed her cheek before she could flinch away, calloused and warm against her cold skin. “That’s what I thought.”
Then he was gone—vanishing into the dark like smoke on wind—leaving her standing in the blood-red night, her dagger useless in her hand, and her soul shackled by a truth she didn’t want to believe.