Chapter 8: The Crimson Anchor
The Lunar Eclipse arrived with a heavy, suffocating silence. The sky over Redpaveley didn't turn dark; it turned the color of dried blood.
I was waiting for Wolfie at our usual spot by the stone bridge, but something was wrong. My vampire instincts were screaming. The air felt thick with celestial ozone—Seraphina's magic—and the musk of an angry wolf.
"Wolfie?" I called out.
Instead of her cheerful voice, I heard a scream from the town square. I ran, my speed a blur of shadow. When I burst into the plaza, my heart nearly stopped.
The trap had been sprung perfectly. Wolfie was in the center of the square, surrounded by a ring of silver-tipped spears held by Marcus's hunters. Seraphina stood on a balcony above, her wings spread wide, chanting a low spell that made the red moonlight focus entirely on Wolfie.
Wolfie was mid-transformation, but it wasn't like before. The eclipse and Seraphina's magic were twisting it. She was larger, more feral, her fur matted with a strange, glowing red light. She wasn't just a wolf; she was a storm of teeth and claws, and she was losing the fight to stay human.
"She's gone mad!" Marcus shouted to the gathering crowd of frightened villagers. "The city-vampire couldn't hold her! She's a danger to us all!"
Wolfie let out a roar that shattered the glass in the nearby windows. She lunged at a guard, her eyes pure, glowing crimson. She didn't see her friend. She didn't see the girl who liked cinnamon coffee. She only saw prey.
"Wolfie, stop!" I leaped into the circle, landing between her and the spears.
"Drayan, get back!" someone shouted. "She'll kill you!"
I didn't listen. I walked toward her, even as she snapped her jaws inches from my throat. The heat coming off her was enough to singe my skin. Seraphina's chanting grew louder, the red moon pulsing.
"I know you're in there," I whispered, my voice barely audible over her snarls. "I'm the 'City Boy,' remember? You're the fire, and I'm the ice. You can't have one without the other."
She lunged, her claws raking across my chest, tearing through my shirt and drawing deep lines of blood. I didn't move. I didn't strike back. I let the blood fall, the metallic scent hitting her nose. For a split second, the red in her eyes flickered. She paused, her snout inches from my heart.
I took that second.
I reached out, cupping her furred face with my hands, and pulled her toward me. I didn't just hold her; I kissed her.
It wasn't a soft, gentle kiss. It was desperate and fierce—a collision of cold marble and burning coals. I poured every ounce of my will into it, sending my vampire stillness into her chaotic heat. I felt the static of Seraphina's magic snap against my lips, but I didn't let go.
The world seemed to go silent.
The red light focusing on her began to dim. The silver-furred beast under my hands began to shudder, the frantic, jagged heartbeat slowing down to match my own slow, steady thrum. The snarling stopped. The heat began to recede.
Slowly, the massive wolf melted away. Wolfie collapsed into my arms, fully human, shivering and gasping for air. Her eyes were honey-brown again, filled with tears and exhaustion.
"Drayan..." she choked out, clinging to my torn shirt.
The silence in the square was absolute. The villagers stared. Marcus's jaw dropped. Up on the balcony, Seraphina's face was a mask of pure, ugly shock. Her "scandal" had just become the most powerful proof of the alliance Redpaveley had ever seen.
I looked up at Marcus, my eyes turning a dark, predatory red that made him take a step back. "She didn't hurt anyone," I said, my voice carrying to every corner of the square. "And she never will. Because as long as I'm standing, she has an anchor."
I picked Wolfie up in my arms, her head resting against the wounds she had given me. I walked through the line of spears, and this time, they moved aside. They didn't see a "Stray" anymore. They saw the man who had tamed the Red Moon with nothing but a kiss.