Chapter 2 Marked by the Moon

Darian couldn't sleep.

The moon had begun its descent, but the scent of her still haunted the air like a ghost. He stood shirtless at the edge of his chamber balcony, the cold Thalvan wind biting against his skin-but none of it compared to the heat still coiled inside him.

Rielle.

He didn't even know if that was her real name.

But the way her voice curled around lies... the way her eyes flared with defiance and fear... the way her scent-despite the cheap Lycan masking-wrapped around his senses and refused to let go...

She wasn't just any Velari.

She was something else.

And those cuffs...

He'd seen them in the Royal Archives once. A scroll, half-burned, buried in forbidden texts. Ancient cuffs etched in moon-script-worn by wolves who were said to be marked by the stars. Wolves touched by prophecy. Wolves that should've died with the fall of the old bloodline.

But she was alive.

And her scent had awakened something inside him.

His hand gripped the balcony rail.

He should have brought her in. Chained her. Questioned her.

But instead... he'd let her go.

Because for a moment-just one damn moment-he hadn't been Prince Darian, heir to the throne of the Thalvans.

He had been a man.

And she had been his craving.

---

Far across the land, in the forest shadows, Rielle lay curled in a hollow beneath the roots of a silverwood tree. Her heart still hadn't stopped racing.

She had touched a Lycan.

Not just any Lycan.

The Prince.

And yet... he hadn't killed her.

He hadn't ripped her throat out like the stories promised.

She ran her fingers over her cuffs, the runes still faintly glowing. "What are you?" she whispered to them. "And why did he look at me like he knew?"

His voice still echoed in her head. Deep. Cold. Beautiful.

And his eyes... gods.

They hadn't been just gold. They had burned.

And for a moment, when he'd stared at her... she hadn't been afraid.

She should've been. She should've run faster.

But something inside her-something ancient and buried-had felt pulled to him.

Like her soul had once belonged to him in another life.

Her fingers touched her lips. They hadn't kissed. Not yet.

But it felt like a kiss had passed between them anyway. A promise.

---

In the Thalvan palace, Darian turned away from the wind and stormed back into his chamber.

He slammed the door behind him and dragged his claws across the polished wood of the table.

"I need answers," he muttered.

If she was wearing the Moon-Cuffs, she might not even know who she truly was.

If the legends were true... then Rielle could destroy everything the Thalvans had built.

But his body didn't want to destroy her.

It wanted to claim her.

Meanwhile, Rielle sat up, her eyes wide with realization.

"He looked at my cuffs," she whispered.

She remembered the way his hand paused on them. Not with fear. Not with disgust.

With recognition.

"Does he know what I am?"

She didn't even know herself.

But she could feel it.

Since the day she was born, the cuffs had never left her wrists. Her aunt had told her never to remove them-never try. That they protected her.

But from what?

And why did they burn hotter when she was near him?

Back in the palace, Darian poured water into a silver bowl and placed his hand over it. The old blood magic his mother once taught him sparked to life, glowing faintly under his palm.

He whispered her name.

Or what he thought was her name.

"Rielle."

The water shimmered.

For a second-just a second-her reflection appeared.

Sleeping. Restless. A whisper of a frown between her brows.

His jaw clenched.

He couldn't let her disappear.

Not now.

A cold wind blew across the forest floor, and Rielle's eyes snapped open.

She sat up.

"I heard... something."

She looked around-but saw no one.

And yet, a whisper brushed her ears.

"Rielle..."

Her name. But spoken like a memory.

She touched her cuffs again.

And far, far away... Darian's heart slammed against his chest.

He'd felt it too.

A bond.

A thread.

A warning.