Chapter 1: Marked by Shadows
"I thought I could survive alone in the shadows… until he marked me, and my heart betrayed my fangs."
The forest had always been my sanctuary. Or at least, it had been, before the blood. Before betrayal.
I moved silently through the underbrush, my senses stretched to their limits. Every crack of a twig, every rustle of leaves, could mean danger—or prey. I was Kael Draven, alpha of the Silverfang pack, and solitude had been my only loyalty since my betrayal three winters ago.
The moon hung low, a silver sliver barely cutting through the clouds, casting faint light over the frost-covered ground. My claws brushed against the bark of a tree, leaving shallow grooves, a reminder that I was alive, that I existed, that I was still the hunter, not the hunted.
But tonight… something was different.
I smelled him before I saw him. Not the forest, not the wind, but him. A scent I couldn't place, sharp and intoxicating, stirring something in me that I had thought dead. My pulse stuttered in a way that angered me—I wasn't supposed to feel this. Not for anyone.
Then he stepped into the clearing.
Lysander.
He was tall, too tall, with broad shoulders and an effortless grace that made him seem like he didn't belong in this world at all. His hair was dark, falling over his eyes in careless waves, and his gaze—my god, his gaze—was a predator's stare wrapped in curiosity, like he could see straight into the marrow of my bones.
The forest seemed to hold its breath.
I growled low in my throat, a warning, but it came out quieter than I intended. He didn't flinch. Didn't run. Instead, he smiled—a slow, dangerous curve of lips that made my instincts scream and my heart betray me.
"Kael Draven," he said, his voice smooth, low, and dangerous. "I've heard a lot about you."
I tensed, claws digging into the frozen earth. "Who are you?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, each movement measured, like he had all the time in the world and none of it belonged to me. The scent of him grew stronger, wild and intoxicating, pulling at something primal inside me.
"I'm Lysander," he finally said. "And I think… you're exactly what I was looking for."
I laughed—a short, bitter sound. "You're lost, boy. This is my territory. You shouldn't be here."
"Territory is only as strong as the fear that enforces it," he replied, tilting his head, eyes glinting in the moonlight. "And fear… I don't feel it for you."
That was it. That was the spark that ignited the wildfire inside me. I didn't know if it was anger, curiosity, or something far more dangerous, but I lunged before I could think. My claws tore through the cold air, aiming to mark my warning.
He moved effortlessly, sidestepping as though I were nothing more than a shadow. My teeth bared, but my fangs didn't touch him. And then… he touched me.
Just a brush of his fingers along my arm, and it was like fire coursed through my veins. My claws froze mid-air, my growl caught in my throat. I could feel his heartbeat—steady, controlled, and completely in sync with something deep inside me that I had spent years trying to bury.
"You're… different," he whispered, eyes locked on mine. "Not like the others."
That single phrase, innocent as it sounded, made my chest tighten. Not fear. Not anger. Something far worse: fascination. Desire. A heat I couldn't ignore.
I tore myself away, retreating a few steps, my instincts screaming at me to run, to protect, to kill. Yet my mind betrayed me. He wasn't just a threat—he was the only thing alive that made me feel alive.
The wind shifted, and suddenly I smelled it: the pack. My pack. Silverfangs were close, and they would not approve of this… intrusion.
"You should go," I said, voice hoarse, trembling despite myself. "Before I decide you're a mistake I can't afford to forgive."
Lysander tilted his head, the corner of his mouth quirking. "And what if I don't go?"
I wanted to warn him, tell him the danger of staying, the storm that would descend upon him if he lingered in my territory. But I couldn't. I couldn't move. I couldn't even think.
Because in the dark, beneath the pale moon, I realized something terrifying and undeniable: he had marked me. Not with bite or blood, but something deeper—something he didn't even realize he had done. My heart had betrayed me before my fangs could.
"Stay away," I breathed, my body taut, claws flexing as if they could protect me from the impossible pull he had on me.
He stepped closer anyway. "Kael… you don't get a choice."
And with that, the forest didn't just whisper my name—it screamed it. My solitude, my carefully built walls, my ironclad control… all shattered in a single moment.
I had survived the betrayal of my pack, the cold bite of enemies, the loneliness of a world that wanted me dead. But I had never survived this. I wasn't sure I could.
Because Lysander… he was no ordinary danger. He was the storm, the fire, the temptation, the one I shouldn't want but couldn't resist.
And somehow, beneath the silver light of the moon, I knew: this was only the beginning.
The shadows of the forest wrapped around us, hiding the danger, hiding the war that was coming. But I knew, deep in my bones, that nothing—nothing—could protect me from what he had already done.
He had marked me.
And my heart… had betrayed my fangs.