He was the feral Alpha King buried beneath the mountain. She was the cursed girl they offered to him as sacrifice to end the famine plaguing their lands.

Ruvan, the first Alpha. Imprisoned, driven to utter madness, and starved of power.

Solenne, the packless she-wolf rumored to be cursed and bring misfortune to all who cross paths with her.

With the power of cursed speech, she is able to kill and bend the world to her will with only one word. To avoid hurting others, she hasn't spoken a single syllable since she was a child. Feared and rejected by her own people, she is given to the mountain in a forbidden ritual-sacrifice... and her scent stirs the beast that slumbers beneath it.

His mate.

Ruvan will stop at nothing to claim what's his, even if that means storming the heavens and finding the cure to her curse just to hear her speak his name.

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She saw stars behind her eyes and felt constellations carved into her skin with every lingering touch and each press of his mouth. He painted the night sky onto her body, not with a brush, but with his lips, hands, and his insatiable hunger—until her lungs were empty and her heart soared so high it must’ve kissed the moon.

“Solenne,” Ruvan murmured, voice low and reverent, like a prayer.

She shivered; the sound of her name on his lips felt like heaven.

Ruvan pressed his palm to her stomach, anchoring her as he leaned in, mouth brushing the hollow of her throat. His hand rose, slow and shaking, tracing the shape of her jaw like it was a sight made only for him. His thumb brushed the corner of her mouth and his eyes burned as he studied her.

“You feel like the stars,” he whispered, “Mesmerizing and bright... something that I want to capture and keep to myself."

And then he kissed her; it was a deep, aching vow he couldn’t speak aloud. A promise made only in breath, heat, and need.

When they parted, he gently pressed his forehead against hers. His voice dipped lower… uncertain, maybe even afraid:

“Say my name?”

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R18, werewolves, fated love, weak to strong... I hope you enjoy my second entry for 2025 WSA. :) give it a shot~

He knew the path to the Citadel like he knew the shape of his first blade.


It didn't matter that the land had changed or that snow had swallowed the trees, or that the roads had long since eroded. His feet remembered the way, and so did his heart.


Ruvan's presence pulsed through the mountain air like thunder, too vast and consuming to be mortal anymore. The closer Thalos got, the more his anticipation overwhelmed him. Even Vaelen fell quiet, his presence nervously curled tight within Thalos.


After a painfully long trek, he finally found it. The ruined Citadel loomed ahead, a jagged skeleton of obsidian and frost.


Thalos soon came to stand at the edge of the grand property, and after a moment's hesitation, stepped through the outer gates. The ruins breathed with warmth, where fire had melted snow into pools of shimmering water.


Chapter 44 - Cruel Together