CHAPTER 2 — The Rogue’s Blood
1293 Words
Annabelle didn’t know what terrified her more—
the howl echoing through the trees…
or the man standing in front of her, eyes glowing an unnatural, silver fire.
Lucien’s body shifted subtly, like something powerful was pressing against his skin, begging to burst free. His jaw locked. His fingers curled. His breathing deepened into something not human.
He wasn’t normal.
He wasn’t safe.
And yet—standing behind him felt safer than she had felt all night.
The contradiction made her dizzy.
The growl that tore from Lucien’s chest snapped the forest into silence.
“Stay close,” he said without turning, voice dark and edged in something feral.
Annabelle didn’t need to be told twice. She moved until she was almost touching him. She felt the heat radiating from him, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Lucien inhaled sharply—the bond pulling at him again.
She didn’t understand why he reacted that way.
But he did.
Another howl—closer.
Annabelle’s pulse spiked. “What is that? Who is that?”
Lucien’s head tilted slightly, listening like an animal would.
“A rogue,” he growled. “And he’s following your scent.”
“Why? I don’t even know any—”
“You don’t have to.”
His voice lowered to something lethal.
“Someone sent him.”
Annabelle’s stomach dropped. She took a shaky step back—
Lucien instantly reached behind him and caught her wrist.
“Don’t,” he warned, eyes flashing.
“Don’t run from me.”
Her breathing hitched. “I’m not—I just—”
His grip softened, fingers sliding slowly down to her palm.
“Good.”
A muscle in his jaw ticked.
“I can’t protect you if you’re not near me.”
Before she could answer, the bushes behind them rustled violently.
Lucien didn’t hesitate.
He pushed her behind him, shielding her with his entire body.
Annabelle barely had time to scream before something burst into the clearing—
a massive shape, low to the ground, eyes glowing red in the dark.
It wasn’t a wolf.
It wasn’t anything she’d ever seen.
It was bigger.
Wild. Malformed. Wrong.
The rogue snarled, teeth bared and dripping blood.
Annabelle stumbled back, heart hammering. “Lucien—”
“Do not look away from me,” Lucien ordered, voice suddenly calm.
Deadly calm.
“You’re safe.”
How could he say that?
The thing was coming straight for them—
Lucien’s bones cracked.
Annabelle gasped.
His spine arched.
His hands curved into claws.
His eyes glowed brighter, burning like twin silver moons.
He didn’t fully shift.
He didn’t need to.
He just changed—part man, part wolf, all Alpha predator.
And gods… it was terrifying and mesmerizing all at once.
The rogue lunged.
Lucien moved faster.
He blurred—one moment beside her, the next colliding with the creature. They crashed to the ground with an explosion of snarls and ripping claws. Annabelle stumbled back, hugging herself, trying not to breathe too loudly.
They fought like beasts—
Lucien slamming the rogue into a tree, the rogue snapping at his throat, Lucien’s claws ripping through fur and flesh. Blood sprayed across the clearing, dark against the moonlight.
Annabelle’s knees shook.
She knew she should run.
Any sane person would.
But her feet wouldn’t move.
Not away from him.
Lucien finally pinned the rogue by the throat, pressing him into the dirt.
“Who sent you?” Lucien growled, voice rough and distorted.
The rogue spat blood, eyes rolling with fear and rage.
“Y-you know who,” he rasped. “He wants the girl.”
Annabelle’s heart stopped.
He.
Someone specific.
Someone dangerous.
Lucien’s expression turned murderous.
“Then he can come for her himself.”
With one swift movement, he snapped the rogue’s neck.
The forest fell silent again.
Annabelle froze, breath trapped in her chest.
Lucien slowly stood, chest heaving, blood streaked across his arms and jaw. His eyes stayed silver for a long, tense moment before slowly shifting back to human.
He turned toward her.
Annabelle stepped back instinctively.
He winced.
Not from pain.
From her fear.
“Don’t be afraid of me,” he whispered, voice rough with emotion he clearly wasn’t used to having.
“I only kill what threatens what’s mine.”
Her heart stumbled.
There it was again.
That word.
Mine.
Annabelle shook her head, trying to breathe. “What—what are you?”
Lucien approached her slowly, carefully, like she was a wild, trembling thing he didn’t want to scare.
“A werewolf,” he said quietly. “The Alpha of this territory.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s not real.”
“It is.”
“But I’m human.”
“Yes.” He swallowed. “And still… you’re mine.”
Her breath caught.
She felt heat rush to her cheeks. “I-I don’t even know you.”
His eyes softened just slightly. “You don’t have to. Not yet.”
He stepped closer, voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur.
“But your heart knows me.”
She wanted to deny it.
She should deny it.
But her pulse betrayed her.
Lucien’s gaze flickered to her throat, where he could hear her racing heartbeat. His pupils dilated. His jaw tightened, like he was fighting the urge to touch her.
“Annabelle…”
Her name sounded sinful in his mouth.
“You shouldn’t have been in these woods alone.”
Annabelle forced air into her lungs. “I didn’t choose to be here. Someone—someone broke into my house. I ran.”
Lucien’s expression darkened instantly.
“And you ended up in my territory.”
He took another step toward her.
“Fate brought you to me.”
Annabelle swallowed hard. “What happens now?”
Lucien lifted his bloodied hand—slowly—giving her time to pull away.
She didn’t.
He brushed his knuckles across her cheek, almost reverent.
“Now,” he murmured, “I take you somewhere safe.”
Her voice trembled. “And after that?”
His eyes burned.
“After that… I figure out who dared hunt my mate.”
Annabelle’s breath hitched. “I’m not—not your—”
“You are.”
The certainty in his voice was absolute.
Unyielding.
Raw.
“You felt the bond the moment you saw me,” he whispered.
“I felt it long before that.”
She hated that he was right.
Hated that her body reacted to him with heat and electricity, like her very soul leaned toward him.
Lucien stepped back, offering his hand.
Annabelle stared at it.
“I won’t force you,” he said, voice low, sincere. “But staying here is death. Come with me, and you live.”
She hesitated…
then slid her shaking hand into his.
Lucien exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath for centuries.
His fingers closed around hers, warm and strong.
“Good girl,” he murmured without thinking.
Her knees nearly buckled.
Lucien inhaled sharply—
he smelled her reaction—
and his eyes darkened with something dangerous, hungry.
He tore his gaze away before he lost control.
“Let’s go,” he said, voice strained. “We need to move.”
He led her through the trees, staying close enough to shield her but far enough not to overwhelm her with the bond burning between them.
Annabelle whispered, “Where are we going?”
Lucien didn’t hesitate.
“To my pack.”
A quiet pause.
“And to my home.”
She shivered.
Because deep down, she knew the truth:
Going with him meant crossing a line she could never return from.
And something inside her—something ancient and wild—
wanted to cross it anyway.
- Writer
