By morning, the village was ablaze with gossip. The boys had run home, screaming of demons and curses, their tales growing wilder with every telling.
Aradia hid inside her shack, her heart aching with fear. She could still feel the energy inside her veins, restless and hot, like a fire that refused to burn out.
A knock at her door jolted her.
It was not a villager. No, the people would never come to her home.
It was him.
When she opened the door, the breath left her lungs.
He stood there like a vision carved by gods themselves—broad shoulders stretching his leather vest, long dreadlocks framing his sharp jawline, his green eyes piercing straight into her. He was not human. She knew it instantly. There was something dangerous about him, something primal.
"You should not use your power where others can see," he said, his voice a deep rumble that sent shivers down her spine.
Her lips parted. "I… I didn't. I didn't mean—"
"Magic never cares for meaning. It only cares for strength."
"Who are you?"
He stepped closer, filling her doorway with his presence. "I am Kael. Alpha of the Moonfang Pack. And you, witch, have just painted a target on your back."
Her heart raced. "Why?"
"Because power like yours," he said, his eyes darkening with hunger, "is worth killing for."