The forest swallowed Luna whole, its shadows curling around her like a second skin. Moonlight sliced through the canopy, silver threads weaving across her path as she stormed away from the city, away from him. Her boots crunched against pine needles, each step a pulse of rage and something else—something that burned hotter than anger. Elijah's face lingered in her mind: those sharp cheekbones, those dark eyes that held secrets older than the city itself, and that damn confession. "I'm not what you think, Luna. I'm a vampire." The words had hit like a silver bullet, piercing the fragile trust she'd let slip through her guard.
She stopped, claws itching beneath her skin, her wolf begging to break free. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and cedar, but something else tugged at her senses—a faint, rhythmic thump, like a heartbeat not her own. Luna froze, breath hitching. Her hand brushed the collarbone where her old scar sat, a crescent she'd always thought was a childhood accident. It tingled now, warm under her touch, as if it had a pulse of its own. "What the hell," she muttered, shaking her head. She needed to run, to shift, to drown out the chaos Elijah had unleashed. But the forest felt wrong tonight, too alive, too watchful.
Her ears pricked at a snap in the underbrush. Not an animal—too deliberate. Luna crouched, eyes scanning the darkness. Her pack's territory was sacred, patrolled nightly, but this wasn't a wolf's tread. Her nostrils flared, catching a metallic tang—silver. Her stomach twisted. Hunters. She'd heard whispers of the Silver Veil, a fanatical order that hunted both werewolves and vampires, but they were supposed to be a myth. Yet there it was, glinting in a shaft of moonlight: a silver arrow embedded in a tree, its shaft carved with runes that pulsed faintly, spelling out "forbidden bond."
Luna's blood ran cold. This wasn't random. They knew about her and Elijah. How? She'd only just learned what he was. Her fingers traced the arrow's runes, and that strange heartbeat pulsed again, louder, syncing with her own. Elijah. She didn't want to need him, didn't want to admit he might be her only shot at answers. But if the Silver Veil was real, and they were targeting her, she couldn't face them alone—not yet. Her pack would never understand why she'd met a vampire, let alone felt drawn to him. Luna gritted her teeth, yanking the arrow free. "Fine," she growled to the empty woods. "But this is on my terms."
The city loomed as she retraced her steps, its neon glow a stark contrast to the forest's hush. Elijah's hideout wasn't hard to find—she'd tracked his scent before, that mix of ash and old leather that clung to him like a shadow. It led her to a crumbling loft in the warehouse district, its windows blacked out, the air heavy with the hum of something ancient. She didn't knock. The door creaked under her push, revealing a space lit by flickering candles. Bookshelves lined the walls, stuffed with tomes that smelled of dust and blood. Elijah stood at the far end, his back to her, staring at a cracked mirror. He didn't turn, but his voice cut through the silence. "You shouldn't be here, Luna."
"And you shouldn't have lied," she shot back, stepping inside. Her boots echoed on the hardwood, her posture rigid but ready to bolt. "You drop 'I'm a vampire' and expect me to just walk away? Now I've got hunters leaving me presents." She tossed the silver arrow onto a nearby table, its clatter sharp.
"Care to explain?"
Elijah turned, his eyes catching the candlelight, red flecks dancing in their depths. He was too damn calm, his black coat blending into the shadows. "The Silver Veil," he said, glancing at the arrow. "They've been dormant for decades. If they're after you, it's because of us." His gaze flicked to her collarbone, where her jacket had slipped, exposing the crescent scar. "Or because of that."
Luna's hand flew to the scar, her pulse spiking. "What do you know about it?" Her voice was steel, but inside, she was unravelling. That heartbeat thumped again, louder, and she swore she felt a flicker of Elijah's own—hunger, restraint, fear.
Impossible.
He stepped closer, too fast, his presence overwhelming. "It's a blood moon mark. Rare. Dangerous. It ties you to me, whether we like it or not." His voice was low, almost a growl. "I didn't ask for this either."
Luna's claws extended, a reflex. "Back off, bloodsucker. If this mark's trouble, you're explaining now." She didn't flinch as he loomed, her wolf snarling beneath her skin. But then it happened—his hand brushed her wrist, stopping her from pulling away. The world tilted. A vision slammed into her: a blood-red moon, a circle of wolves and vampires chanting, a woman with Luna's eyes holding a blade to a man who looked like Elijah. The crescent on her collarbone burned, glowing faintly, and Elijah gasped, his eyes wide as if he'd seen it too.
"What was that?" Luna yanked her arm free, her breath ragged. The mark pulsed, and she felt him—his hunger, his centuries of loneliness—like a current under her skin. It wasn't just her scar; it was them, connected.
"A prophecy," Elijah said, his voice rough. "The blood moon mark binds a wolf and a vampire. It's why the Silver Veil wants us dead. They think we'll destroy everything—or save it."
Before Luna could demand more, a window shattered. A silver arrow whizzed past, grazing her arm. Pain seared, but she dove behind a bookshelf, Elijah blurring to her side. Footsteps thudded outside—two, maybe three hunters. "Stay down," Elijah hissed, but Luna was already moving, her claws out, her blood roaring.
"No way," she snapped. "I'm not your damsel." She lunged through the broken window, tackling a hunter clad in black, his silver blade flashing. Elijah was a shadow, disarming another with a flick of his wrist. The fight was chaos—Luna's strength met the hunter's precision, but the mark hummed, syncing her moves with Elijah's. She sensed his dodge before she saw it, throwing a hunter off him just as he knocked a blade from her path. The last hunter fled, leaving a rune-etched dagger behind.
Luna panted, blood trickling from her graze. Elijah grabbed her arm, his touch cold but steady. "Silver's poison to you," he said, ripping a strip from his coat to bind her wound. "You're reckless."
"And you're a liar," she retorted, but her voice softened. The mark's warmth lingered, tying her to him in a way she couldn't shake. "This mark… It's real, isn't it? We're stuck together."
Elijah's jaw tightened. "Maybe. But I've got secrets of my own, wolf. You want answers? We find them together."
Luna met his gaze, her resolve hardening. "Fine. But I call the shots." She turned, the city's pulse calling her back to the fight, the mark a quiet promise—or threat—burning against her skin.