CURSED By the Moon

Chapter One: Shadows of the Moon The rain lashes Blackthorn Academy like a whip, each drop stinging the cobblestone courtyard as I sprint across it, my healer’s cloak soaked through. It’s past midnight, October 2025, and the Pacific Northwest’s endless storms make the gothic spires of this werewolf stronghold look like they’re bleeding ink into the sky. My boots slip on wet stone, but I don’t stop. I can’t. Not when the training grounds are buzzing with whispers of a surprise drill, and I’m already late. Being a Lunaris Reiecta—a rejected one—means I’m always one mistake away from exile. “Cecilia, move it!” Lila’s voice cuts through the downpour. She’s ahead, her platinum-blonde hair plastered to her skull, her rogue Beta tattoos glinting under the flickering torchlight. “You want Instructor Vey to skin you alive?” “Working on it!” I shout back, my breath hitching. My legs burn, but it’s the ache in my chest that hurts worse—the ghost of my wolf, silent for three years since I rejected Torin. I shove the thought down, focusing on the muddy path to the training arena. Inside, the air is thick with sweat and anticipation. The arena, a cavernous hall carved into the cliffs, hums with the energy of thirty werewolf trainees—Alphas, Betas, and warriors-in-training, all snarling and shoving under the glow of lunar lanterns. I slip into the back, hoping to blend into the shadows. My silver-gray eyes scan the room, avoiding the stares that brand me as the outcast who defied the Moon Goddess. “Raelle, late again?” Instructor Vey’s voice booms, her hawkish eyes pinning me from across the arena. She’s a Beta with a scar across her throat, and her sneer says she’d rather see me dead than here. “Care to explain?” “Got held up in the infirmary,” I lie, keeping my voice steady. “Wound dressings ran late.” “Excuses don’t win battles,” she snaps. “Pair up. Now.” The trainees scatter, pairing off for sparring. I hesitate, knowing no one will pick the reject. Lila starts toward me, but a low growl stops her cold. “She’s with me.” The voice is gravel and heat, curling around my spine like a predator’s claw. Eryx Maddox steps from the crowd, all 6’2” of him radiating danger. His amber eyes lock on mine, and my stomach flips. The Alpha heir of the Nightshade Pack is a storm in human form—broad shoulders, scarred cheek, dark hair falling into his face. His leather jacket clings to his muscled frame, and the way he moves, like he’s hunting, makes my pulse race. “Eryx, I don’t—” I start, but he cuts me off, closing the distance in two strides. “You don’t get a say, Cecilia,” he says, his voice low, almost intimate. “You’re with me.” The other trainees whisper, their eyes darting between us. Lila raises an eyebrow but steps back, leaving me alone with him. My skin prickles, and deep inside, something stirs—my wolf, faint but alive, whining in recognition. No. That’s impossible. I killed my mate bond. I rejected Torin. There’s nothing left to feel. “Locker room,” Eryx says, jerking his head toward the side door. “We’re training there.” “The locker room?” I frown, my voice sharp. “That’s not regulation.” “Regulation’s for cowards,” he replies, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You scared, Raelle?” I bristle, hating how his taunt hooks me. “Fine. Lead the way.” The boys’ locker room smells of rust and damp tile, the air heavy with the ghosts of past fights. The door slams shut behind us, and I flinch, the sound too final. Eryx turns, his presence filling the space, caging me against the tiled wall. His hands brace on either side of my head, and his breath, warm and spiced, brushes my collarbone. “You’re not going anywhere,” he growls, his voice a blade wrapped in silk. “Not until we talk.” “Talk?” I snap, shoving at his chest. It’s like pushing a mountain—solid, unyielding. “This is a drill, not a therapy session.” His eyes flash, and he leans closer, so close I can see the flecks of gold in his irises. “You think you can hide forever? Running from what you are? From who you are?” My heart stutters. “You don’t know me, Maddox.” “Don’t I?” He tilts his head, studying me like I’m prey. “I know you’re broken. I know your wolf’s half-dead. And I know you feel it too—this thing between us.” I freeze, my breath catching. My wolf stirs again, a faint howl echoing in my chest. No. No, no, no. “You’re wrong,” I whisper, but my voice shakes. “I rejected my mate. I’m done with bonds.” Eryx’s smirk fades, replaced by something darker, hungrier. “The Moon Goddess doesn’t care what you want, Cecilia. Fate doesn’t take no for an answer.” His words hit like a punch, and I shove past him, my hands trembling. “Stay away from me,” I hiss, heading for the door. But his hand catches my wrist, spinning me back. His touch is fire, and my wolf—damn her—leans into it, a traitor to my heart. “You feel that,” he says, not a question. His thumb brushes my pulse, and I hate how my body responds, how my skin hums under his grip. “You can’t run from this.” “Let go,” I say, but it’s weak, and he knows it. His eyes soften for a split second, and I see something raw—something human—before the Alpha mask slips back on. “Fight me,” he says, stepping back and spreading his arms. “Show me you’re not afraid.” I laugh, bitter and sharp. “You want a fight? I’m a healer, not a warrior.” “Then why’s your wolf screaming to get out?” he challenges, circling me now, his boots echoing on the tiles. “I hear her, Cecilia. She’s not dead. She’s waiting.” My chest tightens, and I clench my fists to keep from shaking. He’s wrong. He has to be. But the way my blood sings under his gaze, the way my wolf claws at the edges of my soul—it’s too much. I lunge, not with claws or teeth, but with a healer’s precision, aiming for his ribs. He dodges, laughing, and grabs my arm, twisting me until my back’s against his chest. “Too slow,” he murmurs in my ear, his voice a low rumble. “Try harder.” I elbow him hard, breaking free, and spin to face him. “What do you want from me?” I demand, my voice cracking. “Why are you doing this?” He pauses, his expression unreadable. “Because you’re mine,” he says simply, like it’s a fact carved in stone. “And I don’t let go of what’s mine.” My heart lurches, and I stumble back, my mind screaming. Mate. The word echoes, impossible, forbidden. I rejected Torin. Second-chance mates are a myth, a fairy tale for desperate wolves. But Eryx’s eyes, his touch, his voice—they pull at something deep, something I thought I’d buried. “Enough!” I shout, my voice echoing off the tiles. “I’m not yours. I’m not anyone’s.” He steps closer, undeterred, his gaze searing. “Keep telling yourself that. But you can’t outrun fate forever.” Before I can answer, the locker room door bursts open, and Lila storms in, her green eyes blazing. “Cecilia, we’ve got a problem,” she says, her voice tight. “Vey’s calling everyone to the courtyard. Something’s wrong.” “What kind of wrong?” I ask, my pulse spiking. She glances at Eryx, then back at me, her face pale. “There’s a scent on the wind. Ironclaw Pack. They’re here.” My blood runs cold. Ironclaw. Torin. My ex-husband, the man who treated me like a trophy, who carved his name into my soul with pain and fear. I thought I’d escaped him, thought three years was enough to bury the past. But as the distant howl of a wolf cuts through the storm, sharp and vicious, I know I was wrong. Eryx’s hand grazes my arm, a silent promise, but I pull away, my heart pounding. “Stay out of this,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the rain. He doesn’t answer, but his eyes burn with something fierce—possession, protection, or something darker, I can’t tell. Lila grabs my hand, pulling me toward the door, but as we step into the storm, a shadow moves in the courtyard, tall and cloaked, eyes glinting like steel under the moonlight. Torin. His voice carries on the wind, low and venomous, a blade aimed at my heart. “Cecilia, my love. Did you really think you could run from me?” The rain swallows my gasp, but my wolf howls inside me, alive and terrified, as his silhouette stalks closer, and I know—this time, there’s no escape.