The Blood Moon had always been a rumor in Greyhaven.
Something whispered about in hushed tones at the edge of conversations. Something elders mentioned only after too much tea and too many memories. Children were warned to stay indoors on nights when the moon bled red, not because anything would happen, but because it once had.
Ayla never believed any of it.
Greyhaven was too small, too dull, too painfully ordinary for monsters and myths. It was the kind of town that existed on the margins of maps, where the loudest sound after midnight was usually a stray dog knocking over a trash can or the distant hum of a truck passing through without stopping.
Nothing extraordinary ever happened here.
Until tonight.
Ayla wiped the counter for the third time, even though it was already clean, her movements slow with exhaustion. The diner was empty now, the last of the customers long gone, chairs flipped upside down on tables like obedient soldiers awaiting inspection. The neon sign outside buzzed faintly, casting pink and blue shadows across the windows.
Go home, Mrs. Calloway said gently from behind the register. You've been here since dawn.
Ayla forced a smile. Just finishing up.
Mrs. Calloway studied her with a look that was half concern, half something unreadable. You don't like being out late on Blood Moon nights.
Ayla laughed softly, though it sounded thin even to her own ears. You sound like my grandmother.
Mrs. Calloway didn't laugh back.
That woman knew things, she said quietly. Things better left alone.
Ayla's smile faded. It's just a moon.
Mrs. Calloway's gaze flicked to the window, where the sky glowed an ominous red. So people keep telling themselves.
Ayla grabbed her jacket, shrugging it on as she headed for the door. Good night.
Be careful, Mrs. Calloway called after her. And don't take the forest road.
Ayla paused, fingers tightening around the door handle.
I never do, she replied.
Outside, the night air wrapped around her like a living thing.
It was colder than it should have been for the season, biting through her jacket and raising goosebumps along her arms. The town was eerily quiet, the usual chorus of crickets and night birds conspicuously absent. Even the streetlights seemed dimmer, their glow struggling against the crimson wash of the moon above.
Ayla looked up.
The Blood Moon dominated the sky, vast and swollen, its red light spilling over rooftops and streets like a wound torn open. She felt it then—a strange, unsettling pull low in her chest, as though something deep inside her had stirred awake.
She exhaled sharply and shook her head.
You're tired, she told herself. That's all.
Still, she quickened her pace.
Her apartment sat on the edge of town, close enough to the forest that the trees loomed like dark sentinels just beyond the last streetlamp. She had always told herself she liked the quiet. The solitude. The way the world seemed to end where the woods began.
Tonight, the forest felt different.
The shadows between the trees were thicker, darker, as if the moonlight refused to touch them. The air carried a scent she couldn't place—sharp and wild, like rain-soaked earth mixed with something metallic.
Blood.
The thought came unbidden, sending a shiver down her spine.
Ayla slowed, her footsteps echoing too loudly in the silence. Her heart began to pound, each beat heavy and insistent.
Stop it, she scolded herself. You're imagining things.
A sound cut through the stillness.
A branch snapped.
Ayla froze.
The noise came again—closer this time. Deliberate. Not the careless crack of a falling limb or a small animal scurrying through underbrush.
This was heavy.
Controlled.
Her breath hitched.
Hello? she called, hating the tremor in her voice.
The forest did not answer.
The sensation that followed was unmistakable.
She was being watched.
Ayla's instincts screamed, a primal alarm she didn't know she possessed roaring to life in her blood. She turned slowly, scanning the tree line, her pulse pounding so loudly she was sure whatever lurked in the darkness could hear it.
Nothing.
Then she smelled it again.
That same wild, earthy scent—stronger now, overwhelming her senses. Her stomach twisted violently, nausea rising in her throat.
This wasn't fear.
This was recognition.
The realization terrified her more than anything else.
A low growl rippled through the air.
It wasn't loud. It wasn't rushed.
It was a promise.
Ayla ran.
Her boots pounded against the pavement as she sprinted down the road, lungs burning, heart hammering wildly against her ribs. Panic stole her breath, tears blurring her vision as she glanced over her shoulder.
She saw it.
The wolf burst from the forest with terrifying speed, its massive form illuminated by the Blood Moon. It was enormous—far larger than any wolf had a right to be—its black fur rippling with muscle as it ran. Its eyes burned amber, fixed on her with chilling intelligence.
Predator.
Prey.
The distance between them closed impossibly fast.
Ayla veered off the road, diving into the narrow path that cut through the woods. Branches tore at her clothes and skin as she stumbled through the undergrowth, the ground uneven beneath her feet.
She tripped.
Pain exploded as she hit the forest floor, breath knocked from her lungs. She scrambled, hands slipping in damp leaves as she tried to rise.
The wolf landed behind her.
Its weight crushed her into the earth, a snarl ripping from its throat as hot breath washed over her neck. She screamed, terror ripping through her in a raw, animal sound.
Please, she sobbed. Please—
The wolf's fangs grazed her skin.
Then the night shattered.
A roar thundered through the forest—deep, furious, powerful enough to vibrate through the ground itself.
The weight vanished.
Ayla rolled onto her side, gasping, her vision swimming as she tried to make sense of what was happening.
Another wolf stood before her.
This one was different.
Larger. Broader. Its fur gleamed silver and black beneath the Blood Moon, eyes glowing gold with an intelligence so sharp it stole her breath. Power radiated from it in waves, pressing against her senses until she felt dizzy.
The black wolf snarled, backing away.
The silver wolf lunged.
The fight was brutal and swift—snapping jaws, crashing bodies, the sickening sound of bone meeting bone. Ayla curled into herself, hands clamped over her ears as terror and disbelief warred within her.
This couldn't be real.
This wasn't real.
And yet—
Silence fell.
Ayla forced herself to look.
The black wolf lay still, blood dark against the forest floor. The silver wolf stood over it, chest heaving, head lifted toward the Blood Moon in a posture that felt like dominance itself.
Then the impossible happened.
The wolf began to change.
Bones cracked. Fur receded. Limbs shifted and reformed.
Ayla watched, frozen, as the creature became a man.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, his body carved with strength and danger. Dark hair fell into sharp eyes that glowed faintly gold in the moonlight. He was naked, unashamed, every line of him radiating lethal authority.
Their eyes met.
The world tilted.
Something snapped into place—violent, consuming, inevitable.
Kael Nightborne inhaled sharply.
The bond hit him like a blade through the chest.
Mate.
The word was not a thought. It was a command written into his blood, roaring through every instinct he possessed.
Human.
And yet… not.
Power slept beneath her skin, old and dangerous, humming in response to the Blood Moon. Fate had marked her, claimed her, bound her to him in a way that defied law, reason, and war itself.
Kael dropped to one knee before her, the Alpha of Nightborne Pack bowing without conscious choice.
Ayla, he said softly.
Her name tasted like ruin.
She stared at him, eyes wide with terror and something else—something that mirrored the chaos tearing through his own chest.
How do you know my name? she whispered.
Before he could answer, the forest stirred.
Kael's head snapped up.
Dozens of heartbeats echoed through the trees.
They were coming.
And this was only the beginning.
Kael rose slowly, every muscle in his body coiled tight with tension.
The forest was no longer silent.
He could hear them now—heartbeats pounding through the earth, breath rasping through muzzles, the low growls of wolves moving in coordinated arcs. His pack. Rival scouts. Opportunists drawn by blood and the unmistakable surge of power that had erupted the moment the bond snapped into place.
The Blood Moon never acted alone.
Ayla struggled to sit up, her hands trembling as she pressed them into the damp earth. Her head throbbed, the world spinning violently around her. Everything hurt—her body, her mind, her sense of reality.
The man in front of her was impossible.
He stood naked beneath the red moon as though it were his throne, unashamed, unbothered by the fact that he had just transformed from a wolf before her eyes. His presence filled the forest, heavy and commanding, and when his gaze flicked back to her, something fierce and protective burned there.
It terrified her.
You need to stand, he said, his voice low and steady. Now.
His tone allowed no argument.
Ayla flinched but forced herself upright, her legs shaking beneath her weight. She staggered, dizziness washing over her in a nauseating wave.
Kael was there instantly.
He caught her before she could fall, one powerful arm wrapping around her waist. The contact sent a shock through both of them—white-hot and electric.
Ayla gasped.
The world narrowed to the point where their bodies touched.
Heat flooded her veins, curling low in her stomach in a way she had never felt before. Her pulse raced, her breath coming shallow as her senses reeled. The scent of him surrounded her—smoke, pine, and something darker, something primal that made her knees weak.
She should have pushed him away.
She couldn't move.
Kael froze.
The urge to claim her slammed into him with brutal force, his wolf roaring for dominance, for possession, for blood-sworn protection. He tightened his grip just slightly, steadying her, fighting the instinct that screamed to mark her—to bind her to him irrevocably before anyone else could.
Not yet.
If he marked her now, the consequences would be catastrophic.
He forced himself to release her, stepping back with visible effort. Stay close to me, he said. No matter what happens.
What is happening? Ayla demanded, panic sharpening her voice. What are you? What was that thing? Why—why do I feel like this?
Kael's jaw tightened.
There was no time for truth. Not the whole truth.
Later, he said. If we survive the next few minutes.
The undergrowth rustled.
A wolf emerged from the shadows, then another—and another.
They circled the clearing slowly, their movements deliberate, predatory. Silver, brown, black, and ash-gray coats gleamed beneath the Blood Moon. Their eyes burned with curiosity, suspicion, and hunger.
Ayla's breath hitched.
How many are there? she whispered.
Too many, Kael replied calmly.
One wolf stepped forward and shifted mid-stride, bones cracking as it transformed into a man with long dark hair and sharp eyes. He wore torn pants and nothing else, his gaze locking onto Ayla with open shock.
Alpha, he said, dropping into a bow. We felt the surge.
Kael didn't take his eyes off the surrounding wolves. Rowan, he said. Get them under control.
Rowan's gaze flicked back to Ayla—and widened.
Oh, he breathed. Moon above…
A murmur rippled through the wolves.
Ayla felt it then—felt them.
Their attention pressed against her skin like invisible hands, probing, assessing. She wrapped her arms around herself instinctively, fighting the urge to scream.
What are they looking at? she asked, her voice barely audible.
You, Kael said quietly. And what the moon has done to you.
Another figure stepped forward—this one female, tall and striking, her blonde hair cascading down her back as her eyes swept over Ayla with unmistakable disdain.
Her gaze sharpened when it landed on Kael.
You felt it too, didn't you? the woman said coldly. The bond.
Kael's lips curled into a snarl. Stand down, Lyra.
Lyra laughed softly. After all this time? After the moon finally chooses? Her eyes flicked back to Ayla, assessing her like a flaw in a prized weapon. She's human.
Not entirely, Rowan muttered under his breath.
Lyra's smile vanished. Impossible.
The ground beneath Ayla's feet thrummed.
A sudden wave of dizziness struck her, stronger than before. She gasped, clutching her chest as heat flared beneath her skin, spreading through her veins like wildfire.
The Blood Moon pulsed overhead.
Power surged.
Ayla cried out as the world erupted in sound—wolves snarling, shouting voices, the air itself vibrating violently around her. The earth cracked beneath her feet, glowing faintly red before sealing itself again.
Silence fell.
Every eye locked onto her.
Kael moved instantly, pulling her against his chest, his arms locking around her protectively as growls ripped from his throat. No one touches her.
Lyra stared in disbelief. What is she?
Kael didn't answer.
Because he knew.
And because saying it aloud would doom her.
She's marked, Rowan said slowly. By the Blood Moon itself.
Fear flickered across Lyra's face—quickly masked by something far more dangerous.
Desire.
The Council will want her, Lyra said. You know the laws.
Kael's grip tightened. The Council can burn.
A howl split the night—long, echoing, and ancient.
Kael stiffened.
His blood ran cold.
That wasn't ours, Rowan said grimly.
From deep within the forest came an answering howl—then another. Different packs. Rivals. Hunters.
They were coming.
All of them.
Kael lowered his head, his breath brushing Ayla's ear. Listen to me, he said urgently. No matter what you see tonight, no matter what you hear—you stay with me. Do you understand?
Her throat worked as she nodded.
I won't let them take you, he vowed. Even if it means war.
The moon flared brighter, bathing the clearing in crimson light.
And somewhere in the distance, ancient laws were already breaking.