Love Under the blood moon

"Get up!"

Liana jolted awake to the harsh voice echoing off cold stone walls. The ground beneath her was damp, her muscles stiff from lying on the unforgiving surface. A metallic clink echoed as she moved her hands-chains.

She blinked rapidly, her amber eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through a barred window high above. Panic clawed at her chest as she scanned the room. Where am I?

"Up!" The voice came again, accompanied by a sharp tug at the chain attached to her wrist. A tall, burly figure stood in the doorway, his face obscured by shadows.

Liana struggled to her feet, her legs trembling. She tried to shift, to call forth her wolf, but an eerie emptiness greeted her. Her breath hitched. No. This couldn't be happening. She closed her eyes, concentrating harder, but the connection was severed. Her wolf was gone.

"What did you do to me?" she snarled, baring her teeth even in her weakened state.

The figure only chuckled, a dark, mocking sound. "You'll find out soon enough. Move."

She stumbled forward as he yanked her chain, her mind racing. The last thing she remembered was patrolling the forest near her clan's territory. A sharp pain, a flash of light-then darkness. Now, she was here, stripped of her wolf and her freedom.

The hallway beyond her cell was lined with others, all silent and foreboding. She caught glimpses of others like her-captives, their faces gaunt and eyes hollow. A heavy scent of fear lingered in the air, thick and suffocating.

As they moved, she began piecing things together. The rumors had been true. The hunters weren't just targeting werewolves anymore-they were selling them.

Her stomach twisted.

The corridor opened into a vast, dimly lit chamber, buzzing with activity. Rows of cages lined the walls, each containing someone-werewolves, vampires, witches. Creatures from all walks of the supernatural world.

Liana's handler dragged her onto a raised platform. The sudden brightness of the overhead lights blinded her momentarily. As her vision adjusted, she saw them-the audience. Humans, vampires, and even a few werewolves, their faces filled with greed and malice.

"A fine specimen," the announcer called out, his voice smooth and practiced. "A pureblood werewolf, strong and fiery. A perfect addition to any collection."

Liana's fists clenched. A collection? She wasn't some object to be owned.

The bidding began, each number like a dagger to her pride. She stood tall, refusing to let her fear show. But her resolve wavered when the announcer added, "And to ensure obedience, our dear lot has been dosed with the finest suppressants."

Suppressants. That's why she couldn't feel her wolf.

Her gaze swept over the crowd, searching for a weakness, a distraction-anything that could help her escape. Her eyes landed on a man sitting in the shadows of a private booth. His presence was commanding, even from a distance.

"Sold!" the announcer declared, breaking her focus.

Her heart sank as her chain was handed off to another man, a broad-shouldered figure with a predatory grin. He tugged her toward him, his gaze raking over her like she was prey.

"Let me go!" she snarled, struggling against his hold.

"Oh, we'll get to know each other very well," he sneered, dragging her down another hallway.

The walls closed in around her, the air growing heavier with each step. Her instincts screamed at her to fight, but her body felt weak and sluggish.

He shoved her into a small room, the door slamming shut behind her. She stumbled but caught herself, her mind racing.

This wasn't the end. It couldn't be.

The door creaked open again, and she tensed, ready to fight with whatever strength she had left. But the man who entered wasn't her buyer.

He was tall, with dark hair and piercing silver eyes that seemed to glow in the dim light. His presence was magnetic, drawing her gaze despite her fear.

"Leave," he ordered, his voice calm but laced with authority.

Her buyer hesitated, clearly uneasy. "But I paid-"

"Leave," the man repeated, this time with a low growl that sent shivers down Liana's spine.

The buyer muttered something under his breath but left, slamming the door behind him.

The stranger turned to her, his gaze scrutinizing. "What's your name?"

She glared at him, her defiance sparking. "Go to hell."

He smirked, unfazed. "Fiery. Good."

"Who are you?" she demanded, taking a cautious step back.

"My name is Damien Vaughn," he said, his voice like silk. "And as of now, you belong to me."

Her blood ran cold.

"I don't belong to anyone," she hissed.

His smirk widened, revealing the faintest hint of fangs. "We'll see about that."

Before she could retort, he stepped closer, his silver eyes locking onto hers. A strange sensation washed over her-a pull, deep and primal. She wanted to resist, to lash out, but her body betrayed her, frozen under his gaze.

"You're not like the others," he murmured, more to himself than to her.

"What did you do to me?" she whispered, her voice trembling despite her efforts to sound strong.

His expression softened, but only slightly. "Nothing yet. But I'm curious about you."

"I'm not some experiment," she spat.

"No," he agreed, "but you're mine now. And I take care of what's mine."

Before she could respond, he turned and left, the door locking behind him.

Liana sank to the floor, her heart pounding. She didn't trust him, but something about him felt different. Dangerous, yes, but not like the others.

She clenched her fists, her resolve hardening. Whoever he was, whatever he wanted, she wouldn't let him break her.

Not without a fight.

As Liana sat in the dark room, a faint hum filled the air. The suppressant's effect began to wear off, and for a brief moment, she felt her wolf stir-but it wasn't her wolf at all. It was something darker, something unfamiliar.

The hum in the air lingered as Liana's senses sharpened, her mind racing. Whatever she had felt earlier wasn't her wolf-it was something else, darker and foreign. She pressed her back against the cold wall, forcing herself to stay calm despite the chaos brewing inside her.

The door creaked open again, the faint sound echoing through the small room. Liana braced herself, expecting Damien's return. Instead, a tall figure stepped in-an older man with a stern expression and eyes as cold as steel. He wore a suit tailored to perfection, his movements precise and calculated.

"Liana Duval," the man said, his voice low and clipped. "Do you know who I am?"

She narrowed her eyes but said nothing.

"I am Marcus Vaughn," he continued, his tone sharp. "Damien's father. And I've come to see what my son has wasted his resources on."

Liana's stomach churned, though she refused to let it show. "If you're here to gloat or threaten me, get in line," she snapped. "I'm not afraid of you."

Marcus arched a brow, clearly unimpressed. "Bold. That will get you killed here." He studied her with a look that made her feel like prey under a predator's watchful gaze. "You're not the first werewolf to stand on that platform. But you might be the first to survive long enough to regret it."

Her lips curled into a snarl. "If you're so certain I'm a mistake, why are you here?"

"Because my son tends to make reckless decisions," Marcus said, his voice a whip crack of authority. "And because I need to ensure you won't be the reason his power crumbles."

"Power?" Liana scoffed. "I don't care about your politics or your games. I just want to get out of here."

Marcus's expression hardened. "You don't seem to understand. You're in a world where alliances are everything. And right now, you're nothing more than a liability."

Before Liana could respond, Damien appeared in the doorway, his silver eyes gleaming with annoyance. "Father," he said coolly, stepping inside. "What are you doing here?"

"Cleaning up your mess," Marcus replied, his tone icy.

Damien smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Liana is no mess. She's... an investment."

Liana bristled at the word, but she stayed quiet, observing their interaction.

"An investment that could cost you dearly," Marcus countered. "Do you have any idea what the other clans will think when they hear you've taken a werewolf under your protection? Especially one from the Duval pack."

Liana's breath hitched. They knew who she was.

Damien's expression didn't falter. "I'm well aware of who she is. And I don't need your approval to make my decisions."

Marcus's jaw tightened, but he said nothing more. With one last withering look at Liana, he turned and left, the door slamming behind him.

Damien leaned against the wall, letting out a sigh. "Ignore him. He thinks he runs the world."

Liana crossed her arms, her eyes blazing. "Why am I here, Damien? What do you want from me?"

He studied her for a moment, his silver eyes unreadable. "I haven't decided yet."

"That's not an answer."

"No," he admitted, "but it's the truth."

Liana glared at him, anger simmering just beneath the surface. "Let me go. Whatever you're planning, I want no part of it."

Damien's smirk returned, but there was a softness to it this time. "You think it's that simple? That I can just let you walk out of here?"

"Yes," she snapped. "Because I'm not your prisoner."

"You are," he said, his voice turning cold. "And as long as you're under my roof, you'll follow my rules."

Her defiance faltered for a brief moment, but she quickly recovered. "You're no different from the rest of them," she said, her voice laced with venom. "Just another monster pretending to be human."

Damien's expression darkened, and he stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "Careful, Liana. You don't know me well enough to make that judgment."

She held her ground, refusing to back down. "And you don't know me."

For a moment, silence hung heavy between them, charged with tension. Then, to her surprise, Damien laughed-a low, genuine sound that caught her off guard.

"You're right," he said, stepping back. "I don't know you. But I plan to change that."

Before she could respond, he turned and left, the door locking behind him once more.

Liana let out a shaky breath, her mind racing. Damien Vaughn was an enigma, and she didn't trust him for a second. But if she wanted to escape, she needed to understand him-and find a way to use his weaknesses against him.

The following days passed in a blur. Liana was kept in the same room, the walls feeling more like a cage with each passing hour. Damien visited occasionally, his demeanor was always calm but guarded. He asked questions-about her pack, her life, her beliefs-but gave little in return.

She hated how he seemed to control every aspect of their conversations, steering them in directions she didn't want to go. But she learned something important: Damien wasn't like the other vampires she'd encountered. He was careful, strategic, and uncomfortably observant.

One evening, he brought her a meal-a simple tray of food that smelled tantalizingly of home. She eyed it warily.

"Poisoning you would be a waste of resources," Damien said dryly, sitting across from her.

"How comforting," she muttered, taking a cautious bite.

He watched her in silence for a moment before speaking. "Do you hate all vampires or just the ones who've wronged you?"

She froze, the question catching her off guard. "What kind of question is that?"

"A genuine one," he said. "You've made your hatred for my kind very clear. I'm curious if it's personal or something you were taught."

Liana clenched her fists. "My father was killed by a vampire. So yes, it's personal."

Damien's expression softened, but only slightly. "Not all vampires are like that."

"And not all werewolves are like the ones who killed your mother," she shot back.

His eyes darkened, a flicker of pain crossing his features. "Touché."

They sat in silence for a moment, the air thick with unspoken words.

"I didn't choose this," Liana said quietly, surprising even herself. "I didn't ask to be here."

"No one chooses to be a pawn," Damien replied, his voice low. "But sometimes, pawns become queens."

His words lingered long after he left, leaving Liana to wonder what game he was playing-and whether she had any chance of winning.

That night, as Liana lay awake, the hum returned. This time, it was louder, almost deafening, and it brought with it a vision-a dark forest, blood on the ground, and silver eyes watching her from the shadows.

Liana's eyes snapped open, her breathing ragged. The vivid image of the dark forest lingered in her mind, the silver eyes gleaming like shards of ice. It was a vision, but it had felt too real-too sharp to dismiss as a mere dream.

She sat up on the narrow cot, her heart pounding in her chest. What did it mean? And why did it feel so personal?

The door creaked open before she could dwell on it further. Damien entered, his presence as commanding as ever, though his expression was unusually guarded.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," he remarked, his silver eyes narrowing as they studied her.

"Maybe I have," she muttered, brushing her hair away from her face. "Or maybe being locked in here is finally driving me insane."

Damien tilted his head, his gaze piercing. "Interesting. Most prisoners would be begging for freedom by now, yet you seem... composed. What's keeping you so calm, Liana?"

"Maybe I just enjoy ruining your expectations," she shot back.

He chuckled a deep, resonant sound that sent an unexpected shiver down her spine. "You're full of surprises. I'll give you that."

She turned her face away, unwilling to let him see the flicker of unease his presence caused. "Why are you here, Damien? You don't strike me as the type to make casual visits."

"You're right," he admitted, leaning casually against the wall. "I've come to make you an offer."

Her jaw tightened. "I'm not interested in any deals with a vampire."

"Even if it means your freedom?"

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She froze, her mind racing. Was he serious? Could she trust him?

"What's the catch?" she asked warily, her amber eyes narrowing.

Damien's lips curled into a faint smirk. "You're smarter than most. I like that." He straightened, his demeanor shifting to something more serious. "I need information about your pack-specifically, about Thorne Duval."

Liana's stomach twisted at the mention of her brother. "And why would I betray my own family to you?"

"Betrayal is a strong word," he said smoothly. "Let's call it... an exchange of interests. I'll grant you your freedom, and in return, you'll tell me what I need to know."

She laughed bitterly. "You must think I'm a fool."

"I think you're desperate," Damien countered, his silver eyes gleaming with dangerous confidence. "And desperation makes people do things they never thought they would."

Liana stood abruptly, her hands clenched into fists. "I don't care how desperate you think I am. I would rather die than sell out my family."

Damien's expression darkened, his smirk fading. For a moment, the room felt colder, the air charged with tension. "Careful, Liana. Loyalty is admirable, but blind loyalty will get you killed."

"Is that a threat?" she snapped, stepping closer to him.

"No," he said softly, his voice like velvet. "It's a warning."

The intensity of his gaze made her heart race, though she refused to show it. "I don't need your warnings, Damien. I can take care of myself."

He tilted his head, a flicker of amusement returning to his features. "We'll see about that."

Before she could respond, he turned and left, the door locking behind him once more.

Hours passed, though it felt like days. Liana paced the room, her thoughts a whirlwind of anger, confusion, and fear. She hated the way Damien seemed to get under her skin, prying into her thoughts and emotions with ease.

But she hated herself even more for the small part of her that was intrigued by him.

She shook her head, trying to banish the thought. He was the enemy-a vampire who had stolen her freedom and threatened her family. There was no room for anything else.

A sudden noise outside the door made her pause. She strained her ears, catching the faint sound of voices.

"She's dangerous, Damien," a sharp voice said. It was Marcus. "Keeping her here is a mistake."

"She's not going anywhere," Damien replied, his tone calm but firm.

"And what happens when her pack comes looking for her? Or worse, when the hunters find out you've been harboring a werewolf?"

"That's my problem to deal with, not yours."

There was a long silence before Marcus spoke again. "Don't let your emotions cloud your judgment, Damien. She's not worth the risk."

"I'll be the judge of that."

The conversation ended abruptly, followed by the sound of footsteps retreating. Liana's heart raced as she processed what she had heard. The hunters. If they found out she was here, she wouldn't stand a chance.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door unlocking. This time, it wasn't Damien who entered-it was a woman.

Tall and elegant, with raven-black hair and piercing blue eyes, the woman exuded an air of authority. She looked Liana up and down, her expression unreadable.

"So, you're the infamous Liana Duval," the woman said, her voice cool and measured.

"And you are?" Liana asked, her tone sharp.

"Victoria," the woman replied. "Damien's... advisor."

Liana arched a brow. "Is that what they're calling it these days?"

Victoria smirked. "Clever. I see why Damien finds you interesting."

"Let me guess," Liana said, crossing her arms. "You're here to warn me about how dangerous he is and how I should stay in line."

"Not exactly," Victoria said, stepping closer. "I'm here to give you some advice: Don't play games with Damien. You won't win."

Liana's amber eyes flashed with defiance. "I'm not afraid of him."

"Maybe you should be," Victoria said softly, her gaze piercing. "He's not like the others. He doesn't play by the rules, and he doesn't forgive betrayal."

"Good thing I don't plan on betraying him," Liana shot back.

Victoria studied her for a moment before nodding. "We'll see."

With that, she turned and left, the door locking behind her once more.

That night, the hum returned. It was louder this time, almost deafening, and it brought with it another vision.

Liana stood in the dark forest again, the scent of blood thick in the air. Silver eyes watched her from the shadows, unblinking and relentless.

"Liana," a voice whispered, low and chilling.

She turned, but there was no one there.

"Liana," the voice said again, louder this time.

She woke with a start, her body trembling. The vision had felt even more real than the last, and it left her with a sinking feeling in her chest.

Something was coming. Something dark and dangerous.

And she wasn't sure if she could stop it.

As she sat in the darkness, her thoughts racing, the door creaked open once more. Damien stood in the doorway, his silver eyes gleaming with an intensity she hadn't seen before.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice low and urgent.