The barn's air was thick with dust and the ghost of old hay, the kind of place that clung to your skin and never let go. Luna leaned against a splintered beam, her arms crossed, the blood moon mark on her collarbone a faint burn under her shirt. Moonlight slipped through the cracked roof, painting Elijah's face in silver and shadow as he stood across from her, his black coat blending with the dark. The mark hummed, syncing with his presence, and she hated how it made her feel him—his steady pulse, his guarded calm, like a storm held back by will alone. Last night's lie to the pack, claiming he was her prisoner, had bought her time, but Kael's suspicion was a noose tightening around her. She needed answers about the mark, and Elijah was her only lead.
"You've been holding out on me," Luna said, her voice sharp, cutting through the barn's silence. "This mark, this prophecy—you know more than you're saying. Spill it, or I walk." Her claws itched, her wolf pacing beneath her skin, but the mark kept her rooted, tethered to him in a way that pissed her off.
Elijah's eyes met hers, red flecks glinting in the dark. He stepped closer, his boots soft on the dirt floor, and the mark flared, a jolt of his guilt hitting her like a punch. "I'm a shadow prince," he said, his voice low, heavy with centuries of weight. "A royal of my clan, or was, until I betrayed them. I spared a wolf, Luna. A woman like you. It sparked the prophecy, and they exiled me for it."
The mark burned, and a vision slammed into her: snow blanketed a forest, blood staining the white, Elijah kneeling over a wolf with eyes like hers, his hands trembling as he refused to strike. His clan's screams echoed, calling him a traitor. Luna gasped, staggering back, the barn snapping into focus. Her heart raced, the mark's heat spreading through her chest. "You saw her die?" she asked, her voice rough. "And you think that makes us what, fated?"
"No," Elijah said, his jaw tight. "It makes us targets. The Silver Veil knows the prophecy ties us. That's why we need answers." He pulled a folded map from his coat, its edges worn. "There's a library, neutral ground for supernaturals. It's got texts older than my clan. If the mark's secrets are anywhere, it's there."
Luna's eyes narrowed, but the mark pulsed with his truth. She grabbed the map, her fingers brushing his, sending a spark through the mark. "Fine," she said. "But I'm leading. You follow my rules, bloodsucker." She didn't wait for his nod, storming out into the night, the city's neon glow calling them.
The library was buried in the city's underbelly, a forgotten cellar beneath a condemned theatre. The air was thick with the scent of mould and old magic, stone walls carved with runes that pulsed faintly under torchlight. Luna's boots echoed on the steps as she led the way, Elijah a silent shadow behind her. The mark thrummed, heightening her senses—every creak, every whisper of dust felt like a warning. Shelves towered around them, stuffed with grimoires and scrolls, their leather bindings cracked with age. "Find anything on the blood moon," she told Elijah, her voice low. "And don't touch anything stupid."
He smirked, already scanning a shelf. "Yes, ma'am." The mark let her feel his amusement, and she gritted her teeth, hating how it softened her edges. She pulled a tome, its cover etched with a crescent moon, and cracked it open. Dust stung her nose as she read: The Blood Moon Mark binds wolf and vampire, channelling lunar power through shared blood. Strength, speed, unity—but at a cost. Her stomach twisted. Shared blood? No way was she drinking his, no matter what power it promised.
"Luna," Elijah called softly, holding a scroll. "This mentions the prophecy." Before he could read it, the mark flared, and another vision hit: Elijah, younger, standing before his clan, refusing to kill the wolf. "You've doomed us," a vampire hissed, and the mark burned, pulling Luna back. She dropped the tome, her breath ragged.
"You okay?" Elijah was at her side, too fast, his hand hovering near her arm. The mark pulsed, his concern bleeding into her.
"Don't," she snapped, stepping back. "I saw you. Your clan. You started this." Her voice was sharp, but the mark softened it, his regret mixing with her anger. "This mark—it's your fault."
"Not entirely," he said, his voice steady. "But I'll carry that weight. We need to know what it can do." He unrolled the scroll, reading: "The mark amplifies the wolf's power with vampire blood, but binds their fates. Unity or destruction." He looked at her, eyes intense. "You could be unstoppable, Luna."
"Not if it means needing you," she said, her voice cold. "I'm not your battery." The mark hummed, challenging her words, but she held his gaze, her wolf roaring inside.
A creak broke the tension. Luna's senses snapped to the shadows—silver's tang hit her nose. "Veil," she whispered, claws extending. Three hunters emerged, their black cloaks blending with the dark, silver blades glinting. One raised a crossbow, aiming for Elijah. Luna moved first, tackling him behind a shelf as a bolt thudded into the wood.
"Stay down," Elijah hissed, but Luna was already up, her wolf snarling. The mark synced their moves—she sensed his dodge before he made it, lunging at a hunter as Elijah blurred to disarm another. Her claws slashed a cloak, blood spraying, while Elijah snapped a crossbow in half. The third hunter threw a silver net, its edges burning Luna's arm as she dodged. Pain seared, but she roared, ripping the net free and pinning the hunter. Elijah finished the last, his fangs bared, eyes red.
They stood, panting, the library silent but for their breaths. Luna's arm bled, silver's poison stinging, but she ignored it. "We're not done," she said, grabbing the scroll. "Let's move."
They fled to a safehouse, a cramped attic above a dive bar, the city's hum filtering through the walls. Moonlight spilt through a cracked window, catching Elijah's face as he cleaned her wound. The mark pulsed, his touch cold but steady, his worry bleeding into her. "You're reckless," he said, his voice soft.
"And you're a liar," Luna replied, but her tone lacked venom. The mark showed her his truth—he'd chosen her over his clan, just like before. She pulled away, standing. "We're allies, not soulmates. This mark doesn't own me."
Elijah nodded, his eyes holding hers. "I know. But it's changing us both." He stepped back, giving her space, and the mark quieted, respecting her boundary.
Luna clutched the scroll, her resolve hardening. "We find the truth, but on my terms. Got it?" She didn't wait for his answer, turning to the window, the city's pulse calling her to the fight, the mark a reminder of the power—and danger—she carried.