forbidden Alpha

he night was heavy with the copper tang of blood and the smoke of burning timber. Even though years had passed since that night, Luna Blackthorn still smelled it in her dreams. The war between the moonstone Pack and the Silverfangs had ended when she was only a child, but its scars had never faded. They ran deep - in her father's limp, in her pack's bitter whispers, and most of all, in her own heart.

Her mother had died during that raid, torn apart by Silverfang warriors while trying to protect Luna. That memory was Luna's fire. Hatred had been her inheritance, burned into her veins with every heartbeat.

At twenty-one, Luna was no longer the little girl hiding behind her mother's legs. She was sharp-tongued, fearless, and quick with her claws. If the Alpha of her pack, her uncle Aldric, called for war again, Luna would not hesitate to spill Silverfang blood.

Yet even as she sharpened her blades at the border outpost that night, she couldn't ignore the gnawing pull inside her. It had begun a few weeks ago, a strange restlessness under her skin, a tug at her wolf that seemed to whisper of something coming. Something forbidden.

"Still awake?" a voice muttered. Her cousin Rowan, another border guard, leaned against the post. His golden eyes scanned the forest beyond the trees. "You should rest. You've been patrolling for hours."

"I'm not tired," Luna replied curtly. She wasn't about to admit she couldn't rest. Sleep only brought nightmares, and the stirring in her chest refused to quiet.

Rowan studied her for a moment, then sighed. "One day, Luna, your anger will burn you alive."

She smirked without humor. "Better to burn than to be weak."

The words settled between them, heavy with truth. The Bloodmoon Pack could not afford weakness. Not when the Silverfangs guilded the borderlands, waiting for a chance to strike.

It felt like enternity, pain surged in Luna's heart the long awaited moment for her was just a time burn the silverfangs never showed up well it's strange how it all happened.

Heading back home, disappointed and enslaved by her own thought. Luna is the only one who hasn't found a mate yet sounded strange well it wasn't new . Uncle Alderic well we stayed all night but to no avail. Luna my dear I love you but you have to take every step with courtesy, I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to you , when you mother died i promise her, I will be there for you through soft and tick. I know you want to take revenge but do it with caution.

Well uncle Alderic says that all the time, but I promise to take revenge, I promise to make them pay dearly for all that happened.

The night sky glittered with stars, but Luna felt none of its beauty. The grand hall of the Mooncrest Pack was alive with music, laughter, and the scents of newly bonded wolves. Couples clung to one another, eyes glowing with the fresh burn of mate bonds.

Luna stood at the edge of it all. Alone.

Her best friend, Maya, twirled on the dance floor, her mate's hands resting securely on her waist. Aria sat nearby, glowing with the quiet pride of someone who carried new life within her. Their joy should have made Luna happy - and it did, in a way. But it also hollowed her.

She sipped her drink, avoiding the curious stares and whispered words:

"Still unmated?"

"Poor thing... the Moon Goddess must have forgotten her."

Her younger brother, Elias, brushed past with his mate, smirking just enough for her to notice. He had bonded at eighteen. Eighteen. Meanwhile, she was nearly twenty-one, her father's only daughter, and still empty-handed.

From the dais, Alpha Kael's watched her with the same stern disappointment he always wore when he looked at her too long. Her uncle leaned toward him, whispering words Luna knew were meant to soften his edges. It wouldn't matter. In her father's eyes, every day she remained unmated was a day wasted - a weakness, a liability to the pack.

Only Rylan, her childhood friend and warrior, dared approach her. His dark eyes lingered a little too long, filled with a longing he never voiced. "Ignore them," he murmured. "Your mate will come. The bond can't hide forever."

Luna smiled weakly but didn't answer. She wished she could believe him. But as she stood there - surrounded by warmth she could not touch - she felt the cold truth pressing in on her.

She wasn't chosen.

Not yet.

And maybe... never.

had never dealt kindly with Luna.

Her mother, Selene, had been the only soft place she'd ever known. When the war broke out with the Silverfangs, Selene had been among the first casualties. Luna had been only fifteen, forced to grow up too fast, forced to bury the one person who shielded her from her father's relentless expectations. Since then, the halls of the Alpha's house had felt cold, echoing with absence.

Her father threw himself deeper into leadership, into strategy, into forging alliances that could strengthen the pack. But to Luna, his gaze had only sharpened with disappointment as the years dragged on and she remained mateless. He never said it aloud - but she saw it every time his jaw tightened, every time he avoided speaking of her future in council meetings.

And through it all, there was one name that stained her heart black with hatred.

Damian Nightshade.

Alpha of the Silverfangs. The very man whose warriors had spilled her mother's blood.

Luna hated him with every fiber of her being. She hated his name, the fear it stirred, the way wolves whispered it like a curse. She hated that he still lived, thrived, while her mother lay in the ground.

Whenever the border tensions rose, whenever another skirmish ended with her pack wounded or worse, Damian's shadow loomed larger in her mind. He wasn't just an enemy Alpha - to Luna, he was the embodiment of all the injustice the Moon Goddess had dealt her.

Her friends had mates, love, families.

Her brother had respect, strength, and a future.

And Luna? She had loss. Loneliness. And hatred.

Hatred that burned so brightly, she sometimes wondered if the Moon Goddess had denied her a mate because her heart was already too full of vengeance.

Every dawn, Luna rose before the rest of the pack. It wasn't because she wanted to - it was because sleep rarely came easily anymore. Nightmares plagued her: the scream of her mother as the Silverfang warriors stormed their lands, the metallic tang of blood in the air, and the silhouette of Damian Nightshade carved into her memory like a scar.

She would train until her muscles burned, until her fists bled against the wooden posts, until she could barely stand. But no matter how hard she fought, there was always a whisper:

"She's strong, yes, but strength without a mate is wasted."

"What Alpha daughter reaches twenty-one and still hasn't been chosen?"

"Maybe the Moon Goddess has cursed her line."

Luna heard them. Every word. Wolves thought whispers carried lightly, but in a pack, nothing stayed hidden.

Even her father did little to shield her. He expected her to carry herself with pride, to act like she was above such gossip. But his silence cut deeper than their words. It was proof that he, too, believed she had failed him.

At gatherings, she was always the shadow in the corner. When new wolves from allied packs arrived, she felt their eyes on her, their curiosity mingled with pity. Some even tried to mask their disgust. She could almost hear them thinking: the Alpha's daughter, untouched by fate.

Her friends tried - gods, they tried - but it was never enough. Maya dragged her to celebrations, forcing her to smile and drink and pretend the sting didn't reach her heart. Aria, already swollen with new life, offered quiet reassurances: "The Moon Goddess has not forgotten you, Luna. She's saving you for someone extraordinary."

Extraordinary.

The word tasted bitter.

But the whispers didn't stop. The loneliness only deepened. And every night, when she lay awake staring at the ceiling, Luna wondered if she had been marked by the Goddess not for love... but for tragedy.

The night air was cool when Luna finally escaped the noise of the pack house. She slipped outside, past the laughter, past the warm glow of torches and music that didn't belong to her. Alone, she wandered to the edge of the forest, where the trees whispered with secrets only the Moon Goddess knew.

The moon hung high, silver and full, casting its cold light over her. She tilted her head back, eyes burning, fists clenched so tight her nails broke skin.

"Why?" Her voice cracked into the silence. "Why them and not me? Why did you take her from me? Why leave me with nothing?"

Only silence answered. Only the shadows.

Her chest ached, but beneath the ache burned that familiar, relentless hatred. Hatred for the wolf who had stolen everything from her. Hatred for Damian Nightshade.

Her breath misted in the night as she whispered his name like a curse.

"I will never forgive you."

But as the words left her lips, the wind shifted. A cold, unnatural breeze swept through the trees, carrying with it the faintest trace of something that made her wolf stir uneasily.

A scent. Distant, almost imperceptible... but enough to send a shiver crawling down her spine.

Her heart lurched, though she didn't yet understand why. She shook her head, swallowing the unease. She turned back toward the pack house, forcing her steps steady.

She didn't know it yet.

But the path of her life had already begun to twist.

And the very wolf she swore to hate forever was drawing closer

ar on the other side of the forest, Damian Nightshade, Alpha of the Silverfang Pack, stood on the cliffs overlooking his territory.

At twenty-six, he was a man carved from stone, broad-shouldered and cold-eyed, carrying the weight of leadership like a second skin. His pack saw him as ruthless, unshakable, and unbreakable. Few knew the scars that lay beneath his armor - the betrayals that had taught him to trust no one, not even those closest to him.

The law of the packs echoed in his mind often: No Alpha of one shall ever take a mate from the bloodline of the other. It was a law older than Damian himself, forged in blood and kept alive by centuries of hatred.

He had no intention of breaking it.

And yet, lately, his wolf had been restless, too. At night, when the moonlight spilled silver over the forest, he felt a pull. A strange heat. A call he didn't understand, but couldn't ignore.

Damian clenched his jaw and dismissed it. He had enemies to watch, a pack to protect. Whatever this bond was, he would crush it.

The Silverfangs' land stretched wide beneath the blood-red sky of dusk. From the balcony of the Alpha's mansion, Damian Nightshade surveyed his territory, his sharp eyes following the dark ridges of mountains that cut the horizon. The air smelled of pine and iron - strong, untamed, and merciless, much like him.

He was Alpha. Every step he took carried the weight of his pack's survival. Every order he gave echoed with finality. Yet in the quiet moments, when no one dared approach him, the crown on his head felt less like honor and more like shackles.

The war had made him. The war had broken him. And in its ashes, he had inherited not only power but enemies, scars, and an emptiness no victory could fill.

His wolves adored him - or feared him. He had never cared to tell the difference. Respect was built on strength, and strength was something he had in abundance. His Beta, Kieran, often reminded him that alliances could be useful, that bonds between packs could end years of bloodshed. But Damian had no interest in peace. The world had never shown him mercy; why should he extend it?

Especially not to them.

The Moonshadow pack.

Just the thought of their name sharpened his jaw. He despised them - their weakness, their ideals, the way they clung to hope as though hope could shield them from the cruelty of reality. They had taken much from him in the war, more than his warriors would ever know. And somewhere in the depths of that pack was her. Luna. The girl who, by some cruel twist of fate, the Moon Goddess had dared to tie his future to.

Damian had felt it once - a pull, faint but undeniable. The whisper of a bond that should have been sacred, beautiful. But for him, it was nothing short of torment. He didn't want a mate. Not from them. Not her.

Yet... the bond did not care what he wanted.

As the night settled and the first howl of the patrol echoed through the forest, Damian closed his eyes. For the briefest second, a scent drifted across his senses - wild lavender and rain. A scent that did not belong here. His chest tightened, his wolf stirring restlessly.

"No," he growled under his breath, shoving the feeling away. "I will not accept this."

But deep down, he knew the Moon Goddess had already set the path. And whether he wished it or not, it was only a matter of time before their worlds collided.

Damian's hand gripped the balcony rail until the wood splintered beneath his fingers. His wolf clawed at the edge of his control, restless, agitated, craving something he would not allow it to have.

"Alpha?"

The voice of his Beta, Kieran, broke the silence. Loyal, sharp-eyed, and blunt, Kieran had been with Damian through the worst of the war. He entered the chamber without hesitation, though most wolves trembled under Damian's gaze.

"You've been standing here for hours," Kieran remarked, arms crossed. "Brooding doesn't win battles."

Damian shot him a look sharp enough to cut steel. "And what would you have me do? Throw feasts while enemies wait in the shadows?"

Kieran smirked, unbothered. "Your enemies fear you. No one dares move against the Silverfangs now. If anything, it's your allies you should worry about. Wolves grow restless in times of silence."

Damian turned back to the horizon. "Let them grow restless. Fear keeps them in line."

A pause. Then Kieran spoke more carefully. "You can't keep resisting it, Damian. The pull is there. I see it in you."

Damian stiffened, his shoulders broad and unyielding. "Don't speak of it."

"She could be what you need-"

"She is the enemy!" Damian's voice thundered, rattling the air. The power of his Alpha aura surged, pressing down on Kieran until his wolf whimpered in submission. The room fell silent, heavy with unspoken truths.

At last, Damian exhaled, pulling his strength back. His tone, when he spoke again, was quieter but colder. "I will not bind myself to weakness. The Moon Goddess is cruel, but I am not her puppet."

Kieran studied him, concern etched in his face, but he wisely said no more.

Damian turned, his crimson-ringed eyes glinting in the half-light. "Prepare the warriors. If the Moonshadows so much as breathe in our direction, I want to know."

"As you command," Kieran said, bowing before leaving.