Bloodbound Before the Dawn

Chapter One Eleanor Whitmore Two hours I had lain upon the rough-hewn timber of the riverbank, staring at the black expanse above, tracing the stars with my blurred vision. The sky was indifferent, the constellations indifferent, and yet my chest ached as though the very spirits of the night had turned against me. Each rustle of leaves, every ripple of water against stone, each distant call of an owl made my heart leap, hoping… praying… that Harrison Blake would appear. He did not. I swallowed hard, tasting the bitterness of disappointment. Pushing myself upright, I felt the worn wood beneath me creak in protest. My legs were leaden, numb, almost foreign beneath my skin. I wiped my face with the back of my hand, furious at myself for letting tears fall. “It is not the first time,” I muttered, voice shaking yet firm. “It shall be the last.” The forest swallowed me as I stepped from the riverbank, shadows folding in like dark waves. I had waited for him before, countless times. Every word he spoke, every soft promise whispered beneath the moonlight, had felt real. Until tonight. Tonight, something inside me broke. By the time I reached our hut, the horizon had begun to pale with the first hints of dawn. Father sat by the fire, his broad shoulders straight, posture unwavering as always. The glow of the flames danced across the scars etched into his arms, a history of battles fought long before my birth. “Two more moons, little warrior,” he said, his voice calm and unwavering, filled with pride. “Then the Rite of Awakening will mark your path. You are ready.” I forced a smile, leaning to press a kiss to his cheek. I hid the tremor in my hands. He could never know the storm raging within me. “I am ready, Father,” I whispered, my voice lighter than I felt. “I should leave now, or I will be late.” I did not wait for him to respond. The hut door closed behind me, and the mask slipped away. I had been ready to be a warrior my entire life, but Harrison Blake, golden heir of the Alpha, had never been part of the plan. His betrayal left a hollow ache that no training could fill. Weakness was forbidden in warriors. It was forbidden for daughters of men like my father. Everything passed in a blur. Faces, whispers, laughter all faded into nothing. By the time I reached the training grounds, Emily was there, arms crossed, eyes sharp with expectation. “Well?” she demanded. “Do not tell me he did not come.” I shrugged, masking the storm inside. “Of course he did not.” Her jaw tightened as she looked at me. She knew better. My fingers trembled as I crouched to pick up my weapons, hiding my face. I refused to weep again. Harrison Blake was not worth it. A loud clash of metal made me start. “He is such a...” “Olivia,” purred a voice behind me. Lydia Cole. Always there, always smug. I felt her before I saw her. “Did I tell you about last night?” she continued, her voice dripping with drama. “How Harrison carried me back from the hunt, like I weighed nothing? It was… romantic.” I straightened my face, unreadable. Anger surged beneath my skin. “Oh,” she sneered. “Did not see you there.” “It is Eleanor Whitmore,” I said, sharp. “Try harder.” I brushed past her, pulse pounding. Goddess, she was insufferable, everything I despised in a person. The message Harrison had left haunted me: Meet me by the river. I need to speak to you. Foolish me, I had believed it. Rumors stalked me like shadows whispers that Lydia was now the chosen mate, officially. By the time I reached the training clearing, my chest burned. I ran until my muscles screamed, until sweat blurred my vision, until even memories of him began to fracture. It would not hurt so badly if he would just leave me alone. Hannah’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Will you attend Harrison’s coming-of-age celebration next week?” “No,” I said immediately. “I was not invited.” Lydia laughed, sharp and mocking. “Of course you were not. Only the closest ones gain a place in the circle.” Emily appeared beside us. “You are not special, Lydia.” I grabbed my spear, leaving before the tension snapped. But at the forest’s edge, my heart froze. Harrison stood near the firelight, golden hair catching the dawn, posture relaxed, confident, the very image of untouchable power. Our eyes met. For a heartbeat, something flickered across his face an unreadable emotion. Then Lydia squealed, pushing past me. “Are those for me?” Lilies. My favorite. I turned away, biting back the ache. Fury coiled beneath my ribs as I fled into the trees. “So… why are you out here?” Nathan Cole’s voice came from the shadows. I straightened. “Why are you?” He shrugged. “Waiting for Harrison.” “Do not speak for him,” I snapped. “Ever.” “He asked me to speak to you,” Nathan said cautiously. “Do not,” I said, my voice breaking. “Go wait for him. And for your sister, the next Queen.” By the time I returned to our hut, tears came unbidden. I slammed the wooden door, sliding down against it, sobbing. “This is the last time,” I whispered. “Never again. I will die first before I cry for him again.” Outside, the forest stirred. Somewhere beyond, the path to Crescent Camp waited unyielding, merciless, deadly. Good. Because I was done breaking.