One Week
Before the Full Moon
Age 22
Darius
Blackthorne didn't move, his presence a heavy weight in the dimly lit
bookstore. His gray eyes bore into mine, unyielding, like he could carve the
truth out of me with a look. My heart pounded, each beat a frantic drum against
my ribs, and the pendant at my throat pulsed in time, its warmth spreading
through me like a warning. My wolf, still curled tight inside me, let out a low
whine, caught between fear and fury. I wanted to shove him out the door, to
scream at him until he left me alone, but his words echoed in my mind, chilling
me to the bone: They're coming
for you, Liora.
"Who's
coming for me?" I demanded, my voice sharper than I meant it to be. The broom
in my hands felt ridiculous now, a flimsy shield against the alpha standing in
front of me. I tightened my grip anyway, needing something to anchor me.
Darius took
a step closer, his movements deliberate, controlled. I backed up, my shoulder
brushing against a shelf, the scent of old books mixing with the crisp, woodsy
smell of him—pine and storm and something darker, something that made my wolf
stir despite herself. "Your family's enemies," he said, his voice low, steady,
but laced with an urgency I couldn't ignore. "The ones who destroyed your
father. They're closer than you think, and they've been watching you since the
moment you stepped into Silverfang Manor."
My breath
caught, a cold knot forming in my stomach. My father. The traitor. The man
whose name I'd spent my life trying to scrub clean from mine. I'd grown up
hearing the whispers—how he'd betrayed the pack, how he'd sold secrets to a
rival faction, how he'd died in shame. But I'd never known the details, never
wanted to. And now Darius was standing here, dragging that shame into the light
like it was a weapon.
"I don't
believe you," I said, but my voice wavered, betraying me. "If they wanted me,
they would've come for me years ago. I'm no one. An omega. Why would they care
about me now?"
His jaw
tightened, a muscle ticking along his scarred jawline. "Because of what you
are," he said, his eyes flicking to the pendant at my throat. "Because of what
you carry."
I
instinctively touched the crescent moon, its silver cool against my fingertips
despite the heat it had radiated earlier. My mother's pendant. The one that had
burned in the forest, that had spoken to me with her voice, that had driven
that creature back with a burst of silver fire. I wanted to deny it, to tell
him he was wrong, but the memory of those glowing eyes and that voice—Your
power calls to me—made my denial feel hollow.
"I don't
know what you're talking about," I said, but the words sounded weak even to me.
Darius's
gaze softened, just for a moment, and I hated it—hated the pity I saw there,
the crack in his icy exterior. "You don't have to understand it yet," he said.
"But you need to trust me. I can keep you safe, Liora. I have to keep you safe."
I laughed,
the sound bitter and raw. "Trust you?" I shook my head, stepping out from
behind the counter, the broom clattering to the floor. "You rejected me,
Darius. You stood in front of the entire pack and called me unfit. You
humiliated me, broke me, and now you expect me to trust you? To believe you
care about keeping me safe?"
He
flinched—barely, but I saw it, a flicker of something like guilt crossing his
face. "I didn't want to reject you," he said, his voice quieter now, but no
less intense. "I had to. If I'd claimed you as my mate, they would've come for
you that night. They would've killed you, Liora, and I couldn't—" He stopped,
his hands clenching at his sides, like he was holding himself back from
reaching for me.
I stared at
him, my mind reeling. The rejection had been a lie? A performance? I wanted to
scream at him, to tell him it didn't matter why he'd done it—the pain was real,
the shame was real, the way I'd run into that forest with my pride in tatters
was real. But there was something in his voice, in the way he looked at me,
that made me pause. Something that felt… true.
"Then why
didn't you tell me?" I asked, my voice breaking. "Why didn't you warn me,
instead of letting me walk into that manor thinking—" I couldn't finish, the
memory of that night choking me. The pack's stares, Seraphina's venomous smile,
the way Darius had looked at me like I was nothing.
"Because I
didn't know who I could trust," he said, his voice rough now, raw. "Not even
within my own pack. There are traitors, Liora. People who want you dead, who
want what you carry. I had to make them believe I didn't care about you. I had
to make them think you were nothing to me."
I swallowed
hard, my throat tight. "And now?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"What am I to you now?"
He didn't
answer right away, his eyes searching mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw
something there—something warm, something that made my wolf lift her head,
curious despite herself. But then he reached into his coat and pulled out a
rolled parchment, the edges sealed with a wax stamp bearing the Silverfang
crest. "This," he said, holding it out to me. "This is what you are to me now."
I stared at
the parchment, my stomach twisting. "What is it?" I asked, not moving to take
it.
"A blood
oath," he said, his voice steady but heavy. "A contract. It binds us
together—your safety for my protection. As long as you're under this oath, I
can sense you, track you, shield you from those who want to hurt you. It's the
only way to keep you alive until we can figure out who's after you—and why."
I took a
step back, shaking my head. "A blood oath?" I'd heard of them—ancient,
dangerous magic that tied two souls together, often with consequences neither
could predict. "You want me to bind myself to you? After everything?"
"I don't
want this any more than you do," he said, his voice tight. "But it's the only
way. They're coming, Liora. They've already found you once—in the forest. That
creature wasn't random. It was sent for you."
My blood ran
cold, the memory of those glowing eyes flashing through my mind. You can't run from me. I wanted to deny it, to tell him he
was wrong, but I couldn't. Not when I could still feel the pendant's heat,
still hear my mother's voice whispering in my mind.
I reached
out, my hand trembling, and took the parchment. It was heavier than it looked,
the wax seal cold against my fingers. I broke it, unrolling the paper to reveal
lines of elegant script, the words written in a language I didn't fully
understand but could feel—like a hum in my bones. At the bottom were two blank
spaces, one for each of us, and a small silver dagger lay tucked into the fold
of the parchment, its blade etched with runes that matched the ones on my
pendant.
"You sign in
blood," Darius said, his voice low. "We both do. It seals the bond."
I looked up
at him, my heart racing. "And if I don't?"
His
expression didn't change, but his eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind them.
"Then you're on your own," he said. "And you won't survive the week."
I wanted to
throw the parchment in his face, to tell him to go to hell, to take my chances
with whatever was out there. But the memory of the forest, of that creature's
claws, of my mother's voice telling me to live—it stopped me. I wasn't strong
enough to face this alone. Not yet.
"Fine," I
said, my voice shaking but firm. "But this doesn't mean I forgive you."
He nodded, a
flicker of relief crossing his face. "I wouldn't expect you to."
I took the
dagger, my hand steady despite the fear clawing at my chest. I pricked my
finger, a sharp sting that made me wince, and pressed it to the parchment, my
blood blooming red against the paper. Darius did the same, his movements quick,
precise, his blood mingling with mine on the page.
The moment
his blood touched the parchment, a searing pain shot through me, starting at my
finger and racing up my arm, into my chest, straight to my heart. I gasped,
dropping the dagger, my knees buckling as the pain spread, burning, tearing,
binding. My wolf howled inside me, a sound I felt more than heard, and the
pendant flared, its light blinding.
Darius
caught me before I hit the ground, his hands strong, steady, but his face was
pale, his breath ragged. "Liora," he said, his voice tight with something that
sounded like fear. "Hold on."
The pain
intensified, a white-hot fire in my veins, and I screamed, my vision blurring.
Something was wrong—terribly, horribly wrong. This wasn't just a bond. This was
something more, something dangerous, something that felt like it might tear me
apart.
Through the
haze of pain, I heard Darius curse, his grip tightening on me. "Damn it," he
growled, his voice distant, fading. "It's not supposed to do this."
And then the
world went black, the last thing I felt was the pendant's heat against my skin,
and the last thing I heard was my wolf's desperate howl, echoing into the void.