Mate to the Dark Moon Prince

The night felt wrong. Not the normal kind of wrong that came with a cold breeze or a strange noise… this was deeper. Like the darkness itself was watching me. I tightened my cloak around my shoulders as I walked through the narrow forest path. I shouldn’t have been here — everyone in the village knew the forest was forbidden on Blood Moon nights. But my grandmother was sick, and the only herbs that could help her grew near the riverbank. “Just pick it and run back home,” I whispered to myself. My voice didn’t even echo. The silence swallowed it whole. A faint glow pulsed through the trees ahead. Not lantern light. Not fire. This was something else… something alive. My heartbeat quickened. Should I turn back? No. Grandma needed me. I pushed forward. The light grew brighter, shifting from silver to deep crimson. When I reached the clearing, I froze. Under the Blood Moon, the ground glowed red — and in the center stood a man. Not an ordinary man. He was tall, with shadows wrapped around him like a cape, every inch of him radiating danger and power. His hair was pitch black, falling around his face in wild waves. His eyes… those eyes glowed a molten gold that pierced straight through me. A mark shaped like a crescent moon burned faintly on his neck. I gasped. A Dark Moon warrior. No — more than that. The stories whispered his name with fear and awe. The Dark Moon Prince. Before I could move, the earth trembled beneath my feet. A ripple of energy burst from where he stood, as if the ground itself bowed to him. His head snapped toward me. I felt the force of his stare like a hand gripping my throat. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t run. Couldn’t even blink. “What are you doing here?” His voice was deep, rough, and strangely… beautiful. Like thunder wrapped in silk. “I—I came for herbs,” I stammered. “I didn’t know—” “You should not be here.” He stepped closer, and the red glow wrapped around him. “The Blood Moon chooses tonight. Anyone who enters this forest must face its judgment.” My legs trembled. “Please… I don’t want any trouble.” His jaw tightened. Something in his expression flickered — surprise? Recognition? No. Impossible. Suddenly, the air shifted. A heartbeat pulsed in my ears — not mine. His. I could feel it. Feel the warmth rolling off his body. Feel his presence sinking into my bones. And then, the strangest thing happened. He inhaled sharply. “No…” he whispered. “It cannot be.” He moved so fast I didn’t see him until he was right in front of me, towering over me, his golden eyes wide with shock. He lifted his hand, hesitated, then brushed his fingers against my cheek. A spark shot through my entire body. Heat. Power. Recognition. His voice dropped to a whisper, filled with disbelief and something dangerously close to hunger. “Fate has a cruel sense of humor.” “What?” I breathed. His eyes darkened, shifting from gold to a blazing, molten amber. “You,” he said, his voice trembling with restrained power, “are my mate.” Before I could even react, a howl split through the night — loud, violent, and close. The prince’s eyes snapped toward the trees, his expression turning deadly. “They’ve found us,” he growled. “Who?” I whispered. He looked back at me, grabbed my wrist with burning urgency, and pulled me closer. “Run with me,” he said, “or you won’t survive the next five minutes.” And just like that, the forest exploded with movement.