Chapter 5 Moonfire and Bloodlust

The forest should have been quiet.

But the air was trembling.

The moment Lyra stepped into the dark stretch of trees bordering the Blackfang Highlands, she knew something was wrong. Her wolf was pacing inside her agitated, restless. The scent of moss, magic, and blood hovered in the air like a warning.

She crouched low, brushing her fingers against the soil.

"Vampire blood," she muttered, lifting it to her nose.

Still warm.

Still fresh.

Her silver eyes flickered with caution as her claws extended from her fingers. She didn't shift yet. She didn't need to. Not when the rage pulsing through her was enough to peel bark from the trees.

She was born of blood and fire.

Half-wolf. Half-curse.

And something inside her had awakened.

It began two nights ago.

The dreams.

The fire.

The shadowed man with eyes like red suns and a voice like silk dragging across glass. He haunted her mind whispering things she didn't understand, pulling her like a chain buried in her bones.

She had no name for it.

Only the ache.

And the need.

A Mile Away

He felt her.

Thorne stood beneath the dying moon, his crimson cloak billowing around him. The scouts had reported her here feral, deadly, and leaving nothing but death in her wake.

Just like her bloodline.

He should kill her.

He would kill her.

He repeated the thought over and over like a mantra.

She was a threat. An abomination. The union of wolf and vampire was forbidden, a reminder of a war that had nearly destroyed them all.

And yet...

His heart hadn't stopped racing since he saw her in the mirror.

Her scent was agony and desire and wild magic all wrapped in one.

Mate, his blood whispered.

But his mind spat the word like poison.

"She's a curse," he hissed to himself, eyes glowing. "I don't want her."

He leapt from the ridge, landing soundlessly in the forest below. Every footstep took him closer. Every heartbeat, heavier.

He heard her before he saw her bare feet against the dirt, a soft growl vibrating through the trees.

Then..

There.

She emerged into the moonlight, wild silver hair tangled around her face, eyes fierce, blood on her collarbone and a dagger in hand. She was poised like a predator but her chest rose and fell like prey.

And gods.

She was beautiful.

His fangs ached.

Lyra froze.

She didn't need to see him to know he was there.

The air shifted.

Cold.

Dark.

Intoxicating.

Then...

A figure stepped through the fog. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Black armor molded to his body like sin itself. His face was cold perfection, carved from shadow, with crimson eyes that locked on hers like he was already inside her head.

Her body reacted before her mind could. Heat curled low in her belly, her legs tensing, her heart hammering wildly.

"Who are you?" she demanded, though the answer clawed at her instinct.

His voice was low, silk wrapped in danger. "Thorne. King of the Crimson Court."

Her breath caught.

Her nightmares whispered his name.

And yet her pulse quickened.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked, not stepping back. "Like you want to devour me."

"Because I do," he said simply.

The space between them ignited.

Lyra's chest heaved, her wolf clawing to the surface. "You're feeling it too, aren't you? The pull. The bond."

Thorne growled. "I feel disgust. You should not exist."

Her heart stuttered.

But then his eyes dipped to her lips.

And the scent of lust thickened in the air.

"You're lying," she whispered.

"Maybe." His voice dropped. "But it won't save you."

In a blink, he was in front of her, slamming her into a tree, one hand fisted in her hair, the other pressing against her hip.

Their faces inches apart.

Her breath hitched, and despite the threat, despite the blood in his eyes, her body burned.

"What are you waiting for?" she challenged, voice shaking. "Kill me then."

Thorne's eyes darkened.

But his grip loosened.

His thumb traced the curve of her jaw.

And then, like he hated himself for it, he slammed his lips to hers.

The kiss was fire.

Devouring.

Possessive.

A clash of teeth, tongues, and breathless fury.

Lyra moaned against his mouth, her legs wrapping around his waist instinctively as he lifted her, pressing her into the bark. She bit his lip and he growled, low and primal grinding against her like he couldn't decide whether to mate her or tear her apart.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more...

Then....

He stopped.

Thorne ripped away from her like he'd been burned, panting, eyes wide, blood trailing down his mouth.

"No," he rasped. "I won't......this isn't...."

Lyra stumbled to the ground, lips bruised, heart pounding.

"You want me," she said, voice shaking with rage and desire. "Even if you hate it. You want me."

Thorne's eyes shimmered with agony. "I will not be bound to a wolf."

She took a step back, swallowing the hurt. "Then don't follow me."

She shifted.

Silver fur rippled over her body, bones cracking, and within seconds, she was gone leaping through the forest like moonlight on wind.

Thorne watched her vanish.

His fists clenched.

He hadn't marked her.

But the bond had begun.

And the fire inside him?

It would only grow hotter.

Back in the trees, Lyra ran until her legs gave out, collapsing near a riverbank. Her breath came in ragged gasps as her wolf retreated, leaving her bare and trembling.

She touched her lips.

They still burned.

She hated him.

And yet...

Her heart whispered the truth.

He was hers.

And she was in more danger than ever.