Moon bound hearts

After the Howl

(Aria's pov)

The forest seemed quieter after they left, but the silence wasn’t peace—it was waiting. My chest was still thrumming, ears ringing from the echoes of growls and the weight of Lucian’s gaze. Every shadow between the trees looked like him, every whisper of wind carried the echo of his smirk.

Leona’s hand found mine, tight, grounding. “Aria… are you okay?”

I nodded, but the truth was I didn’t know. My wolf stirred restlessly, urging me to shift, to run, to hunt. But it wasn’t just instinct—something else lingered beneath it, something that wasn’t fear, wasn’t anger, wasn’t even curiosity exactly. It was… tension. Like static in the air before a storm.

Elder Vale’s voice cut through the clearing. “Everyone, gather. Now.”

The pack formed around him, murmuring subdued complaints. I fell into place, trying to steady my breathing, to ignore the way Lucian’s image still burned behind my eyelids.

“We can’t let them provoke us,” Elder Vale said, eyes scanning the circle, lingering on me a fraction longer than usual. “We must remain strong, controlled, united.”

I clenched my fists under my tunic. Controlled. United. Easy for him to say. Lucian had walked in here like he owned the night. His pack had followed him like shadows, and all I could think was… why did he make my wolf stir like that?

“You’re thinking about him,” Leona whispered, rolling her eyes.

I snapped my head toward her. “Do not—” I paused, realizing I had no words that would make sense. How could I explain the tension, the pull, the way I couldn’t stop picturing his eyes glinting under the moon?

Elder Vale’s growl of attention brought me back. “We’ll patrol the eastern border tonight. Lucian won’t make the same mistake twice. We must be ready if they decide to push further.”

Patrols. More rules. More boundaries. More ways to keep the world contained while it burned just beneath the surface.

That night, as I ran along the forest ridge with the pack, my senses were alive in a way they hadn’t been before. Every scent, every whisper of movement, every crackle of leaves underfoot screamed of potential danger. And yet, there was something… familiar, in a way that made my pulse quicken whenever my thoughts strayed back to him.

I hated him. I should have hated him.

But the truth was far more complicated, and my wolf knew it too.

The following day, the clearing still smelled faintly of smoke and tension. Whispers passed between pack members like wildfire, some suspicious, some eager, all of it building toward the same conclusion: the Blackthorns were no longer just a distant threat. They had found a way to step inside our world, to test us, to challenge me specifically.

I tried to ignore it during classes—yes, even we had school—but my mind wandered back to the clearing, to the burn of his gaze, to the faint trace of a grin that promised he wasn’t done.

“Aria.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Leona’s hand on my shoulder grounded me. She looked serious, almost worried. “You need to calm down. Everyone’s watching you.”

I frowned. “Watching me for what?”

She didn’t answer directly. Instead, she leaned close, lowering her voice. “Don’t act like you didn’t feel it. He’s… different from the others. Dangerous. You should stay alert.”

Alert. Right. My wolf bristled at the word. But alert to what exactly? The pack’s enemy? Or the strange, magnetic pull that Lucian carried, like a shadow at the edge of the clearing?

By evening, the forest took on its usual silver glow, but it felt different now. The moonlight seemed heavier, more oppressive. The shadows stretched and warped, and every crackle of a branch sounded louder, sharper.

I wandered to the ridge where I often went when I needed space from pack eyes, when I needed to sort through the chaos in my own mind. Sitting on a boulder, I let the wind tug at my hair and tried to focus on my breathing.

“Thinking about him again?”

I froze. My heart skipped.

Lucian stood there—or at least, the thought of him did. Actually, it was Tobias, one of our younger pack scouts, but for a split second, I could have sworn it was Lucian. My wolf growled low in my chest.

“You should be careful,” Tobias said, his voice carrying that teasing tone our younger members liked to use. “Not that I’d blame you for being distracted.”

I snorted, annoyed. “Distracted? Me? You’re ridiculous.”

He smirked, but his eyes flicked toward the treeline. “You don’t know him like I do. That one… he doesn’t play fair.”

And that was the truth I couldn’t ignore. Lucian didn’t play fair. He was clever, dangerous, and, despite myself, fascinating.

That night, I lay awake in my room, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment of the previous night in my mind. My wolf shifted restlessly beneath my skin, urging me to run, to hunt, to fight—or maybe to follow him.

I didn’t understand it. I shouldn’t understand it. He was the enemy. And yet… the pull remained, a thread that tugged relentlessly at the edge of my mind.

The moon rose full again, silver and silent. Somewhere in the shadows, I knew Lucian was watching, waiting, testing. And I realized that no matter how much I wanted to deny it, I was beginning to count the nights until our paths would cross again.

Because this was only the beginning.