Selene
The patrol's torches bobbed closer, their flames cutting erratic paths through the fog-shrouded trees. My blood roared in my ears, drowning out all the warnings from behind me – Veyra's sharp hiss, Elara's urgent plea, Draven's growl of my name. All I saw was that red-haired boy, chained and stumbling between two hulking Bloodfang guards. Dorian. It had to be him. The curse's whispers clawed at the edges of my mind, but I shoved them aside, nocking an arrow and loosing it in one breath. The shaft whistled through the air, burying into the nearest guard's throat. He gurgled, clutching at the fletching as he dropped.
"Ambush!" one of the others bellowed, the cry shattering the night. The patrol erupted into chaos, swords scraping free from sheaths, prisoners yanking at their chains in panic. I sprinted forward, bow raised for the next shot, but the world tilted. Shadows lunged from the underbrush, the curse born illusions twisting into snarling faces that weren't there. A guard swung at empty air, cursing, while another froze, eyes wide as if seeing ghosts.
Draven was at my side in seconds, his blade a silver blur as he cleaved through the first guard who'd recovered from my arrow. "Selene, fall back! It's a trap!"
"No!" I snapped, firing again. My arrow grazed a second guard's arm, drawing blood, but Dorian stumbled free in the scramble, his chains rattling as he bolted toward a cluster of rocks. The prisoners scattered, some lunging for dropped weapons, others vanishing into the trees. One elite guard turned on me, his axe raised high to strike but Veyra intercepted just in time, her sword clashing against his with a ring of steel.
"Thorne, cover the prisoners!" Draven shouted, his voice steady amid the fray. He pivoted, dispatching another guard with a precise thrust to the chest. "Renn, left flank. Watch the illusions!"
Renn nodded, but his eyes glazed for a split second, the curse hitting him hard. He swung wildly at a shadow that dissolved into mist, leaving his side exposed. A guard seized the opening, driving his dagger toward Renn's ribs. I twisted, loosing an arrow that caught the attacker's wrist mid strike. The guard howled, dropping the blade, but it was a little too late. Renn staggered back, blood blooming across his tunic from a shallow slice that caught his side anyway.
"Got you," I muttered, grabbing Renn's arm to steady him as he pressed a hand to the wound. "Elara!"
She was already there, weaving through the melee, as her pouches clinked against her body. "Hold him steady. It's not too deep, but the curse has tainted it." Her hands glowed faintly as she smeared a salve over the gash, murmuring an invocation to the Goddess.
The fight didn't let up. Thorne roared, tackling a guard who'd cornered a fleeing prisoner, his axe burying into the man's shoulder. Veyra fought like fury unleashed, her blade dancing in tight arcs that felled two more. Draven moved like a storm contained, parrying a blow here, countering with a slash there, his commands keeping us cohesive. "Push them back! Don't let them regroup!"
I scanned for Dorian, as my heart hammered hard against my ribs. He was scrambling over the rocks now dragging his chains, his small frame silhouetted against the torches. "Dorian, wait!" I called, dodging a wild swing from a guard who'd broken free. My dagger met his, the impact jarring up my arm, and I drove my knee into his gut, following with a twist that sent him sprawling.
The last guard fell to Draven's sword, crumpling into a heap. The clearing fell soon silent again, save for ragged breaths and the clink of chains. Some of the prisoners huddled near the rocks, rubbing their wrists raw from the bonds, others having seized the opportunity and fled. I pushed past Thorne, who was hauling a dazed captive to his feet, and reached Dorian first. He turned, and my world cracked.
It wasn't him.
This child was younger, maybe three, with hair the color of autumn leaves but eyes a muddy brown, not the grey eyes I'd memorized in every nightmare. His face was streaked with dirt, not tears, and he shrank back as I knelt, confusion twisting my gut.
"It's not him," I whispered, the realization hitting like a gut punch. The curse had painted him in my mind and twisted the hallucination to lure me in. I'd charged headlong, fucked the plan, and now Renn was bleeding because of it.
Draven approached, sheathing his sword with a deliberate slowness that spoke volumes. His golden eyes met mine, cold and assessing, but he said nothing... just looked at me for a moment. Then, he turned to the group. "Regroup. Veyra, secure the prisoners. Thorne, scout the perimeter and make sure no reinforcements are coming. Elara, tend to Renn."
Renn winced as she helped him sit, peeling back his tunic. "It's shallow, Alpha. The salve's working, but I'll need rest."
"Do what you can," Draven replied, his tone clipped. He helped Thorne bind a captive guard, his movements efficient as he did everything in his power not to meet my eyes. No blame, no admonition. Just complete silence, like I wasn't even here.
The remaining prisoners were a ragged lot – three wolves from neutral packs, marked by faded tattoos on their arms, and the boy, who I thought was Dorian. I could barely even stand looking at him now.
Elara coaxed him forward with a gentle word and a strip of cloth for his wrists. "You're safe now," she murmured to him. "What's your name, little one?"
"J-Jaren," he stammered, clutching the cloth like a lifeline. "They took me from the river camp. They said I was leverage."
Veyra snorted, tying off a guard's bonds. "Leverage for what? Kaelen's ego?"
One of the adults, a wiry woman with a scarred cheek, spoke up. "For alliances. He's rallying neutrals against Shadowfang... he promises land, but it's all lies. We were heading to the Cliffs."
Draven nodded, his expression unreadable. "We'll get you clear. But first, any word on a boy named Dorian? Red hair, about five years old."
The woman shook her head. "Haven't seen him. But Kaelen's got the outpost locked tight. They're wards everywhere."
I swallowed the lump in my throat, the hallucination's sting burning deeper. I'd seen what I wanted to see, charged like a fool, and Draven had every right to call me out. But he didn't. He just kept working, with his back to me like I was air.
By the time we made camp – a hasty circle of bedrolls amid a copse of oaks, far enough from the ambush to breathe – the moon hung low. Elara distributed rations, her voice soft as she checked on Jaren, who now lay curled up near the fire with a blanket. Renn dozed under her watch, the salve knitting his wound, while Veyra and Thorne took first watch, murmuring about the patrols' patterns.
Draven sat apart, sharpening his sword by the fire's edge, the whetstone's scrape the only sound he made. He'd barely glanced my way since the fight, and it gnawed at me. I knew I'd screwed up and cost usthe element of surprise – Kaelen probably already knew we were on our way by now, but still, Draven's silence cut deeper. After the kiss, after I'd pushed him away, this felt like punishment. Or worse... indifference.
I couldn't take it. As the fire died to embers and snores rose from the group, I slipped from my bedroll, the chill night air raising gooseflesh on my arms. His tent was pitched on the clearing's fringe, shadows pooling around it. I pushed the flap aside without knocking and ducked inside.
He sat cross-legged on his bedroll, a small lantern casting gold across his features. He lifted his head, narrowing his eyes, but still... no words. Just that steady gaze, waiting.
"Talk to me," I demanded. "You've been icing me out since the ambush. I know I fucked up and charged in like an idiot. I got Renn hurt, gave out our position, and possibly cost us the entire mission. Come on, say it. Yell at me. Something."
Still, he said nothing.
The silence was started to vex me. "I'm not leaving this tent until you speak to me."
Draven set the whetstone aside, his movements deliberately slow. "What do you want me to say, Selene? That you're reckless? That you didn't listen to me nearly got us all killed chasing a ghost?"
"Yes," I pressed, leaning forward. "Rip into me. I deserve it. But don't sit here like I'm invisible."
He met my eyes, golden depths unreadable. "You want words? Fine. We've regrouped, our injuries have been tended and we're somehow all alive. That's all there is. The plan's still the same... we hit the Cliffs at dawn. That's it."
"That's bullshit," I snapped, frustration boiling over. "This isn't about the plan. It's about the kiss, isn't it? Or rather the slap that followed right after. I won't apologize for that because I meant it. You don't get to pin me against a tree like that, and then kiss me out of the blue."
Draven's jaw tightened, but his response came cool, measured. "The slap? That's what you think this is about?"
I blinked. "If not that, then what? Tell me."
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair, the lantern light catching the silver streaks. "Gods, Selene, you think I'd hold a little slap against you? Honestly, I'm more surprised you hadn't done that much earlier. No, it's not that... it's you still being tethered to him. After everything. After that kiss that felt wonderful and amazing. I know you felt it too." he paused briefly and looked down. "Or at least I thought you did... because not long after, you were defending him. Defending the very man that has hurt us both!"
The words landed heavy in my chest as I understood. He was talking about that little squabble between us after the rogue wolf combusted.
"It's the bond," I said softly. "There are remnants of it, nothing more. It pulls at me sometimes and twists my head, but it doesn't mean I want him. Definitely not after what he did. And you," I jabbed a finger at him, "don't get to act like you don't know what it's like. What about Morwen? You can't tell me you don't feel that pull with her too."
Draven let out a bitter laugh. "I keep telling you Morwen's nothing to me. She's not my mate, never was. I can't have one, Selene. The Goddess saw to that."
I stared, the confession hanging between us. "What?"
He leaned back, eyes distant, the weight of old pain settling in his features. "After the raid that took my parents and my lands," I swallowed when I heard the words. I still hadn't told him. He continued, "Shadowfang was crumbling. I was only seventeen at the time and didn't know a thing about being a ruler, but I knew that the moment Bloodfang or any of the other packs smelled weakness, they'd attack again... and this time, take everything. I had no choice but to go to an old witch for help – and it worked. She enchanted our surroundings forests with black magic so we were invisible to the outside world. We were safe."
He took a deep breath, then continued, "But the Goddess found out and cursed me for it. Or maybe it was just the backlash of the black magic from the spell. Either way, no mate bond snaps for me. Ever. My betrothal to Morwen was simply politics, nothing sacred. She left when she saw the truth... when no pull bound us... when she realized I was broken. But by the time she got back to her pack, her brother had claimed the throne and had a shiny new bride as Luna. She had no place there. So she returned to Shadowfang... to me... as compensation."
His voice cracked on the last word, raw and unguarded. The fearless alpha, stripped bare. It hit me then – Draven, flirty and fun on the surface, carried this void, this absence the bond denied him. And here I was, fighting echoes of mine while he watched, wanting something real of his own.
And worse, I was part of the reason why.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, reaching out, my hand covering his.
He turned his palm up, fingers lacing with mine, his touch warm. "You couldn't have known."
He thought I was apologizing for the bond. If only it was as simple as that. I knew I had to tell him. Better he hears it now than to continue to lie to his face. But how was I to tell the man that was risking his life to save my son, the man I was starting to fall in love with, that I was the reason his parents are dead and he's unable to have a mate.
He'll never forgive me if he learns the truth.
I hadn't even realised he was still talking, "... but seeing you feel that bond for someone else kills me. Because I feel nothing like it. Just you. Just this spark. And then you slap it away."
I swallowed again, the air thickening between us. "I didn't slap it away. I was scared of feeling again. Of falling for another Alpha and betraying Dorian by wanting this."
Draven's eyes darkened, pulling me closer. "I'd never... ever... hurt you the way Kaelen did. You're my Luna. My queen. And I'd burn the entire six kingdoms down before I'd let anyone hurt you or your son."
He kissed me then, slow at first, his lips brushing mine like a question. I answered, leaning in, my free hand cupping his jaw. The kiss deepened, hungry, his tongue tracing my lower lip until I parted for him, a soft moan escaped my mouth as heat pooled low in my belly. The bond twisted, and for the first time, I felt Kaelen's shadow fading under Draven's touch as his hands slid up my arms.
We broke apart only to shed clothes, frantically. His tunic hit the bedroll first, revealing the scars crisscrossing his chest, badges from raids and challenges. I traced one with my fingers, them bent low to trail my soft kisses along it. He shivered, pulling my shirt over my head, pulling me up as his mouth found the curve of my neck.
"My beautiful, red haired devil," he murmured against my skin, voice rough. "Let me show you."
I nodded, arching as his lips trailed down, teeth grazing my collarbone, then lower, latching onto a nipple through the thin fabric of my binding cloth. He unlaced it with deft fingers, freeing my breasts to the cool air, and I gasped as his mouth closed over one peak, tongue swirling around it, hot and insistent. Pleasure shot through me, and my hands tanged into his hair, pressing him closer.
"Draven," I breathed, tugging at his leathers. He obliged, kicking them off, his cock springing free – thick and hard, the tip already glistening. My core clenched at the sight, as I felt the wetness between my thighs begin to soak through my leathers. I pushed him back onto the bedroll, straddling his hips, grinding against him through my pants. He groaned, hands gripping my waist, guiding my movements.
"Off," he demanded, voice gravelly, and I complied, shimmying out of my leathers, baring myself to him. His eyes devoured me, golden and fierce, as I positioned myself above him, the head of his cock nudging my entrance. I sank down slowly, inch by inch, stretching around him, the fullness making me bite my lip to stifle a cry. He was big, filling me completely, and I had to pause to adjust, as my walls fluttered around his length.
"Fuck," he hissed, hips bucking up slightly. "So tight. Move, my queen... ride me into battle."
And so I did, rising and falling, setting a rhythm that had us both panting. His hands roamed, cupping my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples, then sliding down to where we joined, as his thumb found my clit and began rubbing in firm circles. Stars burst behind my eyelids, pleasure coiling tight as I ground against him, faster now, the slap of skin on skin filling the tent.
Draven sat up suddenly, wrapping an arm around my waist, and flipped us without breaking connection. Now he loomed over me, thrusting deep, each stroke hitting that spot inside that made me arch and claw at his back.
"That's it, baby." he growled, his mouth claiming mine in a bruising kiss. "Come for me. Let go."
I shattered, crying out into his mouth, my walls clenching around him as wave after wave of pure pleasure crashed over me. He followed seconds later, burying himself to the hilt, spilling hot inside me with a guttural groan, his body shuddering against mine.
We collapsed together, sweat-slicked and spent, his weight a welcome anchor as breaths mingled. The bond was silent now, drowned out by the afterglow, and for the first time, I felt free – tethered only to him. And by my own choice.
"My perfect Luna." he whispered against my forehead as he kissed it, still breathing hard.
Suddenly, we heard a low noise outside the tent. It sounded like a rustle of leaves, but it was too deliberate for wind. Next thing we heard was the sound of soft footsteps closing in.
Draven tensed above me, his hand reaching for his dagger on the floor beside us. "Someone's here."