Elara
I couldn't feel my hands.
The forest swayed around me—trees whispering in a language I didn't understand, shadows curling at the corners of my vision. My body trembled, the rush of energy still humming beneath my skin like a song I couldn't shut off.
What had I done?
They were dead. I had killed them.
I hadn't even touched them.
The dagger in my hand was untouched by blood, yet the creatures had dropped like stones at my feet. Their screams still echoed in my ears—raw, animal, terrified.
My breath came in shallow bursts. I felt like I was splintering.
"Elara."
Lucien's voice cut through the fog.
His arms wrapped around me from behind, warm and solid and real. I hadn't realized how cold I was until then.
I let myself lean into him, just for a moment.
"They're dead," I whispered.
"You saved yourself," he said firmly. "You saved all of us."
"I didn't mean to." My voice broke. "I didn't even know I could—"
"I know." He pressed his forehead to the back of my head, his breath steadying mine. "I saw it."
The others were still nearby—I could hear the distant murmur of Kieran giving orders, the shuffle of boots through leaves, the scent of blood on the wind. But none of it felt real.
Only Lucien did.
"I was scared," I said softly.
He turned me in his arms to face him. His silver eyes were no longer cold. There was fire in them now—uncontrolled, unguarded. It made my pulse stutter.
"So was I," he admitted.
His hands framed my face. For a moment, I thought he might kiss me. I didn't know whether to run or let him.
But he didn't.
He just stared at me like he was trying to memorize every inch of me, every piece he couldn't quite understand.
"Let's go back," he said at last.
---
The ride back to the estate was quiet. Lucien kept me close on horseback, one strong arm wrapped securely around my waist. I wasn't sure if it was to steady me—or him.
When we arrived, I expected to be sent to my room like a fragile little bird.
Instead, Lucien brought me to the war room.
Kieran and two others were already there, maps and reports spread across the heavy oak table. The tension in the air was a living thing.
"She's one of them," one of the wolves said the moment he saw me.
My spine stiffened.
"One of what, Jonah?" Lucien said coolly.
"An omega like that? With powers like that?" Jonah's gaze flicked to me, barely masking his fear. "She's not natural."
Lucien growled low in his throat.
"Leave," he ordered.
"But Alpha—"
"I said leave."
Jonah backed off fast, casting me one last wary look before slipping out the door.
Kieran sighed, dragging a hand through his dark hair. "He's not wrong. That kind of power—it's not something we've seen in a hundred years."
I sat quietly, fingers curled in my lap, trying not to shake.
"I didn't mean to use it," I said. "It just... happened."
Kieran studied me. "There's legend of omegas like you. Not just submissive, not just mates. Catalysts. Born to balance powerful bloodlines—or destroy them."
"Destroy them?"
Lucien's jaw flexed, but he said nothing.
"You were born under the Blood Moon, weren't you?" Kieran asked.
I hesitated, then nodded. "My mother used to say it was cursed."
"It's not a curse," Lucien murmured. "It's a sign."
"A sign of what?" I asked, my voice barely audible.
Kieran answered. "That you're meant for more than just being mated."
I glanced at Lucien. His gaze was unreadable.
The silence stretched.
Then Lucien spoke. "She stays in the west wing. Guards at every entrance. No one sees her without my permission."
"You're locking me up?" I asked, shocked.
"No," he said softly. "I'm keeping you alive."
---
Later that night, I couldn't sleep.
I lay in the unfamiliar bed, staring at the stone ceiling above me. The soft flicker of candlelight danced across the walls, but it didn't reach the corners. The shadows still crept.
I sat up slowly, heart heavy.
There was something inside me. Something I didn't understand. And it was waking up faster than I could control it.
What if next time I couldn't stop it?
What if I hurt someone I cared about?
The knock on the door startled me.
I rose and opened it cautiously.
Lucien stood there, shirt half-unbuttoned, hair tousled, eyes dark with something unreadable.
"Couldn't sleep either," he said simply.
I stepped aside to let him in.
He crossed the room in two strides, stopping at the edge of the bed, hands on his hips like he didn't know what to do with himself.
"You shouldn't be alone," he said.
"I'm not scared," I lied.
"I am."
That stopped me.
He looked at me then—really looked. "When I saw you out there... I thought I was too late. I thought—" He exhaled sharply. "I've never felt like that before."
I stepped closer. "I didn't die, Lucien."
"But you could have. And I don't know what that would've done to me."
He looked down at his hands. "I've spent most of my life burying emotions. Hiding anything soft. It made me a better Alpha. A stronger one. But now..."
He looked at me.
"You make me feel everything I've tried to forget."
My breath caught.
The tension between us stretched tight, fragile as a thread.
"I don't know what I'm doing," I whispered. "I'm not a warrior. I'm not a queen. I don't even know what's happening to me."
"You're mine," he said fiercely. "That's all that matters."
His hand cupped my cheek, thumb brushing along my skin.
And this time—he did kiss me.
It wasn't soft.
It was wildfire and thunder. Desperate and hot and real. His mouth claimed mine with a hunger that stole my breath, his arms pulling me close until I was pressed against the solid heat of him, his scent surrounding me.
I kissed him back.
Because I didn't know what tomorrow held. I didn't know who I was becoming. But in that moment—I belonged nowhere else but here.
His lips traveled down my neck, lingering at the bond mark that had begun to pulse faintly with heat.
"Lucien," I breathed.
He growled softly against my skin. "Say it again."
"Lucien."
He kissed me again, slower this time, hands trembling slightly as they skimmed my waist, my hips, tracing every line like he was committing me to memory.
But just as the kiss deepened, just as my body began to burn—
He stopped.
Pulled back.
Breathing hard.
His forehead rested against mine. "Not yet."
I blinked, dazed. "What?"
He stepped back like it physically pained him. "You're not ready."
"I—"
"I want all of you, Elara. Not just your fear. Not just your power. I want your trust."
I stared at him, heart thundering.
He was giving me a choice.
In a world where omegas were claimed, taken, mated without question—he was asking.
"I'm trying," I whispered.
"I know." His hand brushed my cheek again. "That's why I'll wait."
He turned and left before I could stop him.
---
Sleep didn't come, but the night passed faster.
By morning, news had arrived—rogue attacks had spread. Three packs in the north were hit. No survivors. All signs pointed to one enemy:
A wolf with no known name. No known pack.
But with a singular mission: Find the girl born under the Blood Moon.
Me.
I stood by the window, arms wrapped around myself, watching frost melt on the stone sills. My reflection in the glass looked the same—but I wasn't.
Not anymore.
Lucien entered without knocking.
He didn't speak at first—just handed me something.
A leather-bound book.
I opened it slowly.
"My mother's journal," he said. "She was like you. Not an omega. Not an Alpha. Something else."
I looked up sharply.
"She hid it for years," he continued. "Kept her power buried. It almost killed her."
"What happened?"
"She married my father. An Alpha who tried to break her."
My heart ached. "Did he?"
"No." Lucien's voice darkened. "She broke him."
I swallowed hard.
"There's more of you out there," he said. "Hidden. Hunted. Some dead. Some waiting. But none of them had what you do."
"And what's that?"
He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
"Me."