MOONBOUND HEARTS
Chapter Two — The Howl Beneath Her Skin
By chizzy
Morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, striping the floorboards of Mara's bedroom. She hadn't slept much — her dreams kept replaying golden eyes and a voice whispering her name through the trees. When she woke, the smell of rain lingered in the air, sharp and metallic.
Her phone blinked with no signal again. She sighed, tossed it onto the table, and stepped into the small kitchen. The coffee maker hissed and clicked. Outside, fog still hugged the forest edge like it didn't want to let go.
The events from last night looped in her mind. The prints. The growl. Luca's eyes.
"Get a grip, Mara," she murmured. "You're a doctor, not some horror movie girl."
Still, she locked her doors and checked the windows before heading out.
The clinic sat just across the gravel road — a squat white building with peeling paint and a faded sign that read BENDWOOD MEDICAL. Inside, the light flickered once before settling. She flipped through the appointment sheet: a handful of check-ups, one fever case, and a farmhand with a sprained wrist. Routine. Normal.
Around noon, Clara Lessing walked in again — the waitress from the diner. She looked pale, her long hair damp with sweat.
"Mara," she said quietly, shutting the door behind her. "I—I didn't know who else to come to."
"Clara? What's wrong?"
She hesitated, then rolled up her sleeve. Long, angry scratches lined her forearm, swollen and red. They looked fresh.
"I was out late last night," Clara said, voice trembling. "I heard something behind the diner. I thought it was just the wind, but then—" She stopped, eyes darting toward the window. "I didn't see it. Just heard the growl. When I got home, this was there."
"Did something touch you?"
"I don't know. It was too dark."
Mara examined the marks. Too deep for a thorn bush, too clean for a fall. Like claws.
"You should've gone to the sheriff."
Clara shook her head quickly. "No. He'd say I imagined it. They all pretend nothing happens here."
Mara cleaned the wounds gently. "You'll need antibiotics. And rest."
Clara nodded, twisting the silver ring on her finger. "You believe me, don't you?"
Mara hesitated. "I believe something happened."
Clara smiled sadly. "Then you'll learn fast. Bendwood doesn't like strangers digging into its secrets."
Before Mara could ask more, the bell above the clinic door jingled.
A tall figure filled the doorway — Luca Lessing.
His black T-shirt clung to him, damp from the drizzle outside, his hair tousled. His gaze flicked to Clara, then to Mara. Something sharp crossed his expression.
"Clara," he said flatly. "You shouldn't be here."
Clara flinched. "I—I just needed the doctor."
"You should've called me."
"You didn't answer," she whispered.
Mara straightened. "She's hurt. I'm treating her."
Luca's golden-brown eyes landed on Mara, unreadable. "Then finish quickly. The woods are restless this week."
"The woods?" Mara asked. "What does that even mean?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he stepped closer to Clara, lowering his voice. "Go home. Lock your doors."
Clara gathered her bag and left, eyes lowered. Luca stayed behind, the air thickening in his silence.
"You scare her," Mara said finally.
"She should be scared."
"Of you?"
His jaw flexed. "Of what comes with me."
He turned to leave, but Mara caught his arm. "Luca—wait. What's really going on here? Those prints by my porch weren't just animals."
He paused, staring at where her hand touched him. "You shouldn't ask questions you don't want answers to."
"Then stop answering like you live in riddles."
For the first time, a faint smile ghosted his lips. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Try me."
He leaned close, his voice barely a whisper. "There are creatures in these woods that don't belong to this world. And some of us aren't as human as we pretend."
Mara laughed, though it came out shaky. "Right. And I'm supposed to believe you're one of them?"
He looked at her then — truly looked — and in that heartbeat, she saw it again: the flicker of gold, the faint glint of fang when he spoke.
He smiled faintly. "Believe whatever lets you sleep tonight, doctor."
Then he was gone.
---
Understood. I'll only send the story text—no extra messages.
🩸 MOONBOUND HEARTS
The howl between her skin
That night, the rain came harder, drumming against the roof like restless fingers. Mara couldn't shake the unease that crawled under her skin. Every time lightning flared, the forest outside seemed alive, breathing.
She sat by the window with her tea, watching the tree line blur into darkness. Somewhere out there, wolves—or whatever they were—moved. She could feel it, the weight of unseen eyes pressing against the glass.
A thud broke the rhythm of the rain. Then another. She froze, setting down her cup.
Something—or someone—was on the porch again.
She reached for the flashlight and crept to the door. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. She peered through the small glass pane, sweeping the light across the porch. Nothing. Only rain, the wooden railing, and the ghostly glow of fog.
She almost turned away when a shape darted across the yard—large, fast, low to the ground. Her breath caught. The beam caught the flash of fur and eyes that blazed gold.
She stumbled back, fumbling for her phone—still no signal. The shape prowled closer, circling. A growl rolled through the night, deep enough to vibrate the windows.
Then, suddenly, a louder snarl split the air. Another shape collided with the first in a blur of muscle and teeth. She gasped as the two figures fought, crashing into the mud, claws slashing. One was darker, larger. The other smaller, quicker—but losing ground.
Lightning flashed—and for an instant she saw what they were. Wolves. Massive. Wrong. Too big to be real, too human in the angles of their faces.
The larger one threw the other aside and lifted its head, howling at the storm. Mara clapped a hand to her mouth. That voice—she had heard it before.
Luca.
Her pulse stuttered. The bigger wolf turned toward her porch, golden eyes catching the light. Recognition flared—like it knew her. Then it turned and vanished into the forest, taking the storm with it.
Silence fell heavy after that.
Mara didn't sleep. When morning came, she stepped outside, boots sinking into the soaked earth. The yard was torn with claw marks and blood streaks. She crouched, brushing trembling fingers over one of the prints. It was massive, almost the size of her hand.
A car engine approached—the sheriff's truck. He climbed out, looking grim.
"Doc," he said, scanning the yard. "You didn't go out last night, did you?"
"No. But someone—or something—was here."
He knelt beside the tracks. His jaw tightened. "Stay inside at night, you hear me? And if you see anyone from the Lessing family, you keep your distance."
"Why? What's wrong with them?"
He stood slowly, meeting her eyes. "They've been tied to these woods for generations. Too tied. People vanish around them. Folks stopped asking why."
She folded her arms. "You're saying you think they're involved in this?"
"I'm saying the Lessings don't play by human rules."
He left it at that, tipping his hat before driving off.
Later, as she sat on the porch steps, exhausted, a voice came from behind her.
"You shouldn't be out here."
She turned sharply. Luca stood a few feet away, rain still clinging to his hair, his shirt half unbuttoned, streaks of dried mud on his arms.
"You!" she said, standing. "What the hell happened last night?"
His eyes narrowed slightly. "You were watching."
"How could I not? There were two wolves fighting in my yard!"
He stepped closer, silent.
"Say something, Luca! You were there, weren't you?"
The silence between them stretched. Then he said softly, "You wouldn't believe it."
"Try me."
He exhaled, gaze flicking toward the forest. "What you saw wasn't supposed to happen near your house. I tried to keep it away."
"Keep what away?"
He hesitated. "There are wolves in Bendwood, yes—but not the kind that run from people. They hunt for us."
"For us?"
"For those who carry the mark."
"What mark?"
He reached out suddenly, fingers brushing her wrist. His touch was warm, but she flinched at the spark that shot through her veins. He turned her hand over, eyes scanning her skin. "It's faint, but it's there."
She looked down. A small red crescent mark glowed near her pulse, barely visible. "That wasn't there yesterday."
"No," he murmured. "It comes after you've been chosen."
Her breath hitched. "Chosen for what?"
He looked up, eyes burning gold. "For the hunt."
The air seemed to drain out of the world when Luca said the word hunt.
Mara took a step back, her pulse hammering. "You're not making sense. What do you mean 'chosen'?"
Luca's expression tightened, as if he was choosing each word carefully. "There's something old in this place. It marks people sometimes—people who see what they shouldn't. The mark doesn't always stay visible, but once it touches you, the forest remembers."
Mara looked again at the faint red crescent near her wrist. It burned now, a subtle warmth under the skin. "You're saying this came from… the woods?"
"From whatever rules them," he said quietly. "I can't explain everything to you. Not yet."
"I'm a doctor," she said. "I deal in facts. Show me evidence, not riddles."
He almost smiled. "Evidence doesn't survive long out here."
They stood facing each other, the wind carrying the smell of pine and rain between them. Luca's presence felt heavier than it should—like the air bent around him. She wanted to step away but found herself caught in his gaze instead.
"Last night," she said finally, "you were one of them, weren't you?"
He didn't answer. But his silence was enough.
That evening the sky broke open with another storm. Mara tried to distract herself with patient files, but her thoughts kept circling back to him. To the blood in the yard. To the way his eyes had flashed gold.
She should have been terrified, but part of her wasn't. Part of her felt an echo of something deep and restless—a pull toward the dark line of trees behind her house.
When she finally gave in to it, the forest was alive with the smell of wet bark and lightning. Each step sank into the soft earth. Every branch seemed to shiver at her passing. She wasn't sure what she was looking for until she found it: a clearing with a half-collapsed stone well in the center, slick with moss.
The wind shifted and she heard movement behind her.
"Didn't I tell you to stay away from the woods?" Luca's voice, low but sharper than before.
Mara turned. He stood on the edge of the clearing, rain glistening on his hair, a shadow behind his eyes.
"You keep saying that," she said. "Maybe you should tell me why."
He came closer, boots sinking into the mud. "Because there are rules here. Every full moon, the boundary weakens. My pack hunts to keep the others contained."
"Others?" she repeated.
"The ones who forgot what it means to be human."
Lightning split the sky, and for an instant she saw something move in the trees behind him—a tall figure, pale and thin, eyes catching the light before melting into shadow. Luca's head snapped toward the movement, shoulders tensing.
"Go back to your house," he ordered. "Now."
Mara hesitated. "What was that?"
"Not something you want to meet."
The next moment he was gone, faster than her eyes could follow, swallowed by the rain and dark.
She reached home breathless, soaked, every nerve on edge. She locked the door and backed away, watching the forest through the window. Minutes passed, then an hour. The storm began to ease.
Just as she started to believe she'd imagined everything, a single howl rose through the night. It wasn't angry this time—it was mournful, lonely, like a confession whispered into the sky. The sound caught something inside her chest and wouldn't let go.
She touched the mark on her wrist. It pulsed once, faintly, as though answering.
And though she told herself she was safe indoors, part of her already knew the truth:
whatever lived in those woods had chosen her for more than fear.
To be continued. .....