Moonblood: The Wolfless Alpha

POV: Nixie "You still don’t feel it? Not even a tingle?" Trixie’s voice sliced through the quiet like a thorn across bare skin. Her perfectly arched brows lifted with pretend concern, but her eyes—those glittering amber eyes—burned with amusement. I kept my gaze on the firewood in my hands, stacking the last log in the hearth. "No," I replied, forcing calm into my voice. "Nothing yet." "Strange." She tilted her head, her glossy curls spilling over her shoulder like syrup. "At your age, most she-wolves already have their wolf. Even Omegas." I smiled tightly and rose to my feet. She wanted me to c***k. She always did. But I’d learned early that my silence, however brittle, was stronger than her words. "Maybe I’m not most she-wolves," I said. Her lips curled. "No, you're not. You're a Luna. Wolfless. Mate to the Alpha of the Bloodhound Pack. Such. a tragedy." The last word lingered, drawn out like a blade before a strike. I walked past her, brushing my shoulder against the doorway. "Try not to trip on your own bitterness, cousin. The scent’s strong enough as it is." She let out a breathy laugh behind me. I didn’t look back. Outside, the early morning mist clung to the dirt paths that wove through the pack village. Warriors sparred shirtless near the training ring, their grunts and strikes echoing like a drumbeat of dominance. I caught a few of them glance my way, then quickly look away. The wolfless Luna. They didn’t whisper anymore. They didn’t have to. Even after a year of being mated to Hunter, the title didn’t carry respect. Only whispers. Pity. Sometimes, outright disgust. Being a Luna meant little when your wolf never answered. No matter how much blood you spilled or prayers you offered to the Moon Goddess. My boots crunched over gravel as I made my way toward the edge of the forest, where the mist thickened and the air grew quiet. Here, I could breathe. Here, I didn’t have to pretend. My regular oak tree to sit on greeted me with familiarity. I sat, back against its bark, legs drawing up to my chest. Silence was calming—until I noticed him. Hunter. The scent came for me before the sound of his feet. Musk, cedar, and that occasional spark of fury always lurking beneath his skin. "You missed council this morning," he said behind me. I didn't turn. "Trixie went. She can smile and nod with the best of me." He came into my line of sight, arms across, eyes fierce. Hunter was all brawn and bristle, jaw always locked like he was one word away from dissembling someone. And sometimes he did. "They don't want her. They want you," he said. "You're Luna." I raised an eyebrow. "Humor. They don't behave as if they adore me." "You think this is hard for me? Having to fight for you every damn time someone questions whether you belong?" "Then perhaps they shouldn't have to." His jaw flexed. "You don't mean that." But I did. I got up slowly, smoothing out my skirt. We glared at one another eye to eye, close enough I could see the veins on his neck pulsing. "I never wanted to be Luna," I said quiet. "You found me. Or the Moon Goddess made an error as well?" Something crossed his face. Pain—ashamed—and also fury. And in its depths, for all its ferocity, dread. He took a full step nearer. "You're not just my mate. You're mine." And there it was. Possessiveness. Edge. Thanks to the rustle behind us, the moment froze. One of the sentries came out of the trees, winded. "Alpha! It's the Elder. He's. he's demanding Nixie. By himself." Hunter's eyebrows drew down. "Why?" The sentry hesitated. "He says it's urgent. Says it's concerning. blood." --- The Elder’s hut sat on the edge of the Bloodhound lands, half-swallowed by thickets and creeping ivy. Inside, the air was heavy with herbs and the faint metallic scent of dried blood. I stepped through the threshold, and the Elder raised his hand without turning. "Close the door." I obeyed, the wood creaking behind me. He was hunched near the fire, pale and trembling. The once-proud Alpha of this pack—my grandfather—now looked like a ghost wrapped in fur and bone. "You summoned me," I said. "Sit, child." I did, kneeling beside the fire. He studied me with eyes that had seen too much. "You’ve felt it, haven’t you?" I hesitated. "Felt what?" "The silence. The weight. The absence of her." My heart skipped. "My wolf?" He nodded. "She’s not gone," he murmured. "She’s hidden. Locked behind blood not your own." I stared at him. "What does that mean?" He closed his eyes, breathing shallow. "You must go to the edge. The real edge. Beyond the border. Into the woods they fear." "The Forbidden Forest?" "Yes. There, you will bleed. And when you do. she will come." I stood sharply. "That’s suicide. That forest—it’s where rogues disappear. Where no wolves return." He gripped my wrist with surprising strength. "And yet. you are not like them. Are you?" His voice trembled. "You carry more than just a wolf." A chill crawled down my spine. "What are you saying?" He reached into the folds of his cloak and pressed something into my palm. Cold. Sharp. A pendant. Silver. Etched with a symbol I’d never seen before—half-moon, half fang. "Wear it when you go. And go *soon*, child." "Why?" He looked past me then, eyes glazing over. "Because he’s coming. And if he finds you first. there won’t be a forest deep enough to hide you." --- That night, I lay in my bed, pendant pressed to my chest. The silence was louder than ever, my thoughts a storm of questions. Who was *he*? Why now? I turned toward the window, where the moonlight spilled across the floor. A soft knock interrupted the stillness. I sat up. "Yes?" The door creaked open. Trixie. She stepped in quietly, too quietly, and shut the door behind her. "I just wanted to say goodnight," she said sweetly. My eyes tightened. "Since when?" She flashed me a smile, sauntering over to perch on the edge of my bed. She dipped to fix a strand of hair behind my ear. And growled, "I hope you sleep tight tonight. for tomorrow, your death will be counted an accident." My breath locked. My blood froze. She took an inch closer, the stench of lavender and malice surrounding her person. "Sweet dreams, Luna," she whispered. And went, closing the door silently after her. I sat, paralyzed by the closed door, pumping with adrenaline. The pendant burned on my skin.