BENEATH THE SILVER HOWL

CHAPTER 4

The forest did not whisper; it called her now.

Ivy stepped past the last stone marker on the woodland trail, where the civilised world bled into something far older, far wilder. She had not put on shoes. She had not thought to bring a coat. Her body had moved like it was no longer hers to command. It pulled her toward the trees like a magnet through flesh. The moss was soft beneath her bare feet, but her skin burnt from the inside out. Her breath steamed in the midnight air, even though the forest didn’t feel cold.

It felt alive.

Each step forward stripped away a layer of hesitation. She did not know what she was becoming, but she knew who she was becoming it for.

VEYNE

The ruined chapel rose from the woods like the spine of a forgotten god. Stone columns reached into the sky, broken and twisted by vines that shimmered under the moonlight. The roof had long since collapsed, and shattered stained glass glistened like a thousand fallen stars across the marble floor. This was not a place built for worship anymore. It was a place built for fate.

He was waiting for her.

Veyne Roth was barefoot, shirtless, and drenched in moonlight that made every muscle of his body gleam like carved bronze. His dark hair was tousled, a few strands falling across his forehead. His silver eyes found her immediately, and they burnt with something primal. Possession. Hunger. Fear.

She stopped just at the threshold, wind curling around her bare legs like a warning.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice raw.

“I didn’t come here on purpose,” she shot back, stepping forward. “You brought me here. With your bite.”

His jaw clenched. “I marked you, yes. But I didn’t mean to call you.”

“Too bad,” she said, fury barely keeping pace with the ache in her chest. “Because I am here now. And you do not get to pretend this is not happening.”

His shoulders rose with a sharp breath, like he was about to lash out, but all he said was, “You don’t know what you are stepping into.”

She was shaking now, not from cold but from the way his eyes held her like she was already his. Like he had been waiting for her in this place long before she was even born.

“Then tell me,” she snapped. “Because I feel it in my blood. Something is changing. And I know it is because of you.”

He turned away, pacing. His bare feet made no sound on the marble, but the tension in his body screamed louder than words.

“You are not just feeling something,” he said. “You are changing. My bite awakened your bond to me. You were not born a wolf, so the transformation is… complicated. Painful. Deadly, if resisted.”

Ivy stared at him, pulse thundering.

“Then why did you bite me?”

He stopped. “Because I could not stop myself.”

His voice was choked with guilt.

“You were never supposed to be mine,” he continued. “I made a vow after the last time. After the last woman I…”

“Your mate,” Ivy said quietly.

He turned slowly. “She didn’t survive the shift. Her body rejected it. And when she died, a piece of me went with her. I swore I would never claim anyone again.”

Ivy’s throat tightened, but she didn’t look away.

“And yet”, she said, “you claimed me.”

“I tried not to,” he whispered. “God, Ivy, I tried. But the night I saw you… I knew. You were meant for me. And now I’ve dragged you into this hell.”

She walked to him.

Deliberately. Steadily. Until her chest pressed lightly to his, and her hands rose to rest against the hard lines of his bare shoulders.

“I am not afraid of what’s happening,” she said softly. “I am afraid of you running from it.”

His head dropped forward, forehead pressed against hers.

“You are not her,” he murmured, eyes shut. “You are not a mistake. But I don’t know how to protect you without losing you.”

“Then don’t protect me,” she said, voice trembling. “Fight for me.”

Something inside him shattered.

He kissed her then fiercely, unrelentingly, desperately. Not like the kiss at the masquerade, laced with restraint. This was raw. His hands cradled her face like she was made of light and ruin, and when her lips parted under his, he groaned low in his throat a sound torn from some ancient, aching part of him.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. She rose on tiptoe as he pulled her tighter, his hands skimming down her spine to the small of her back, pressing her against the hard wall of his body. She gasped as heat exploded through her core.

“You burn,” he said against her mouth. “You burn for me.”

She bit his lip.

“I am not the only one.”

They stumbled back toward the centre of the chapel, moonlight dancing across their skin. Ivy tugged at the waistband of his pants, trembling with need, and Veyne growled low, almost animal-like. His hands slid under her blouse, lifting it, then tearing it over her head.

Her skin was alabaster in the moonlight, glowing like frost and fire. Her long red hair spilt over her shoulders like blood silk.

He ran his fingers reverently over her ribs, her hips, and her breasts. “You are mine,” he breathed. “God help me, Ivy, you are mine.”

She fumbled with the button of his pants as he kissed her neck, her collarbone, and the crescent-shaped scar he left with his bite. Each touch made her gasp, made her knees buckle.

They sank to the stone floor.

And he worshipped her.

Not with words but with hands, with mouth, with fire that pulsed through every nerve. He moved over her like a man possessed, but every motion was a question. Every breath he took was asking, Do you feel this? Do you want this as much as I do?

She answered him in gasps, in moans, and in nails dragged across his back as he entered her with one slow, aching thrust.

And the world shattered.

The bond between them wasn’t metaphorical anymore. It howled. Magic rippled through the air, through her skin. Their bodies moved as one, like they had always known how. Every touch brought her closer to the edge of something bigger than pleasure transcendence.

He kissed her like she was the last thing he would ever taste. She held him like she could keep him from vanishing into the dark.

And when she shattered in his arms, his name broke from her lips like a prayer and a curse.

He followed a heartbeat later, buried in her, shaking with the force of everything he

The moonlight flickered, like something divine had passed between them.

Later…

She lay curled in his arms, the sound of his heart grounding her in this moment. His scent was all around her – smoke, cedar, skin.

Her fingers traced lazy patterns on his chest.

“I am not leaving,” she said.

He didn’t speak. Just pulled her closer.

“I chose this,” she whispered.

“You should not have had to,” he said hoarsely.

“I would choose it again.”

And he believed her.

But far in the woods, something else had seen.

SEVERIN DUSKFANG

He watched from the edge of the treeline, eyes gleaming gold in the shadows.

So. This was the girl Veyne had bonded to.

The infamous Roth bloodline, protector of the city’s hidden power, had finally broken its sacred vow.

Severin tilted his head, the grin on his lips nothing short of cruel.

“She will do,” he said softly. “Oh yes. She’ do nicely.”

Then he vanished into the night, and the trees forgot he was ever there.

But the blood moon was rising.

And Ivy Gale had just become the most hunted woman in Scotland.