Marked by His Moon

The air reeked of s*x and sweat. The Silver Fang was barely lit—just a pulse of crimson and violet neon bleeding across shadows and fangs. Wolves brushed against each other with animal hunger, bodies grinding, drinking like they wanted to forget what they were. Luna walked in like a threat. Boots echoing against the concrete floor, hips rolling in defiance, blood still drying beneath her fingernails. She wasn’t there to blend in. She wanted to disappear into something hotter than her thoughts, something more reckless than the life she couldn’t seem to crawl out of. Her hunt tonight had gone wrong. A rogue had sunk its claws deep into her ribs before she gutted it—fast, messy, necessary. But now her body thrummed with adrenaline and the leftover high of violence. She needed an outlet. A distraction. Or a man. Kael saw her the second she stepped in. He didn't look up right away—no, his instincts were sharper than that. He sensed her. Like a whisper across his skin. Like a scent the wind had been waiting to carry to him. Sharp, sultry, dangerous. Then he lifted his gaze, slowly. And there she was. Leather-clad and blood-marked, black tank top clinging to her chest like second skin, tight jeans slung low on those lethal hips, and a bruise blooming like ink just under her collarbone. She didn't look fragile. She looked like war. Kael felt something dark uncoiled in him. His drink was forgotten. The noise, the heat, the women crowding the booth beside him—none of them mattered. Because the hunter had just walked into the wolves’ den. And he was starving. Luna knew he was watching. She felt it before she even found him in the shadows. That stare. It wasn’t curious or flirtatious. It was heavy. Hungry. Possessive in the way that said, I will ruin you and you’ll thank me. Their eyes met across the room. Heat licked up her spine. The man was… massive. Built like sin and sculpted fury, with shoulders that looked like they could carry the world—or pin her down until she couldn’t move. His shirt was half-unbuttoned, the edge of a tattoo disappearing under the line of muscle on his chest. His jaw was rough with stubble, his mouth cruel and gorgeous, and his eyes— Gold. Like a predator in the dark. She turned her back on him. Ordered her drink. But she couldn’t stop the way her thighs pressed together. Couldn’t stop her body from betraying her with the slow heat spiraling low in her belly. The music thumped around her. Someone bumped her shoulder. She barely noticed. He was behind her before she realized. Close. Too close. “I saw you kill him,” he said, his voice thick and deep. Like bourbon poured over gravel. She didn’t turn. “Good for you.” “You’re bleeding.” “Not your problem.” A pause. Then: “It is now.” His fingers brushed her back—just above her hip, where her shirt had ridden up. A slow drag of calloused skin over hers. She shivered. “Don’t touch me,” she said. “Tell me to stop.” She didn’t. A moment later, they were in the alley behind the bar. She didn’t know how it happened. One second she was breathing his scent, that intoxicating mix of leather, heat, and wild—then his hands were on her waist, his lips crashing against hers, and her back hit the wall with a thud. He kissed her like a man unchained. Like a wolf who’d been starving. His tongue demanded entrance, and she gave it, moaning into his mouth, biting his lower lip. His hand cupped her jaw roughly, holding her steady while his other gripped her ass, hauling her against his body. He was hard. Thick. Hot even through his jeans. She rubbed against him, breath catching. “f**k, you feel like fire,” he groaned, his voice breaking against her mouth. She grabbed his hair, pulled his head back, and stared into those golden eyes. “Then burn with me.” Clothes didn’t come off—they were torn. He ripped her tank top down the middle, baring her breasts into the cold night air. The brush of wind made her n*****s tighten, but it was his mouth that made her gasp. He didn’t ask. Didn’t wait. He sucked one tight bud between his teeth, growling when she arched into him. His hand slipped between her thighs, finding her already wet. “Soaked,” he murmured, his voice shaking. “f*****g perfect.” She fumbled with his belt, growling in frustration. He helped—unzipping, shoving his jeans low enough to free himself. Her breath caught at the sight of him. Thick, veined, hard as hell. She needed him. Now. He lifted her like she weighed nothing, pinning her against the wall with his hips, her legs wrapping around him instinctively. “I’ll ruin you,” he whispered against her throat. “Try me.” And then he thrust. Her cry echoed off the brick. It wasn’t gentle. It was hard, raw, messy. Their bodies collided in a brutal rhythm, all teeth and moans and sweat. She clawed at his back, bit his shoulder, cried his name. He filled her completely. Stretching. Claiming. Every thrust slammed her against the wall. Her nails dragged down his spine. His hand squeezed her ass, adjusting her angle, going deeper. Hitting that spot. Her moans turned into whimpers. “Come for me, hunter,” he growled. “Let me feel it.” She shattered. Back arching, toes curling, eyes rolling back. Her climax hit like a storm—violent and overwhelming. She cried out his name, nails drawing blood. Kael cursed, biting her neck. Not enough to mark. But almost. He followed her over the edge, hips jerking as he spilled inside her, panting against her shoulder. They stayed tangled for long seconds. Breathless. Sweating. Quiet. He pressed a kiss to her jaw. Unexpectedly soft. She blinked at the contrast. “This doesn’t mean anything,” she muttered. His gold eyes gleamed. “No.” Then softer, darker: “But you’re mine now.” Her stomach flipped. “I don’t even know your name.” He stepped back. Let her feet touch the ground. Fixed his pants, tucked himself away, and finally said: “Kael.” Her heart stuttered. Because she knew that name. Luna didn’t sleep that night. Not from regret. But from need. Her body still ached where he’d held her. Her skin still burned from his mouth. And her wolf—buried deep inside—was howling. She’d known heat before. Lust. But not like this. Not the kind that left her gasping hours later, thighs slick, breath hitching every time she closed her eyes. She touched herself in the dark, fingers sliding between her folds, and it was his name she whispered when she came again. She should’ve run. Should’ve deleted every trace of that night from her memory. But wolves don’t forget. And something inside her already knew— This wasn’t over.