Blood and moonlight

Chapter two :The Stranger’s Shelter

The forest was quieter than usual.

Ava crouched low in the brush, fingers brushing the dirt. She could smell them—deer, maybe two. Young. Close. But something felt off. The wind carried another scent. Not prey.

Not quite predator, either.

She stood slowly, eyes scanning the trees. Moonlight filtered through the high canopy, bathing everything in silver. The woods here were older. Wilder. Some paths even the elders warned her not to cross.

But Ava was not one for rules.

She moved like shadow, barely stirring the undergrowth as she followed the trail. Her hunger had dulled—replaced by curiosity. Something was calling her. Not with words. Not even with sound. It was a pull. Deep and strange.

That’s when she saw it.

A house.

No… a ruin.

Tucked between thick oaks and strangled by ivy, it looked like it hadn’t been touched in decades. Its roof sagged. The wood had grayed. But the air around it was… different. Warmer, almost.

She stepped closer, the boards underfoot creaking as she pushed the half-open door.

The inside smelled of old wood and damp air—but something else lingered. A presence. Like someone had been there. Recently.

She stepped further in, fingers grazing a broken bookshelf, a dusty table. The fire pit in the corner had fresh ashes. Still warm. Her lips parted.

She wasn’t alone.

A shift behind her—fast, but not hostile.

She spun, teeth half-bared out of instinct, only to stop dead when she saw him.

Tall. Broad. Shirt slightly undone. His eyes glowed gold in the dimness.

Human. But… not.

Ava’s breath caught, not in fear—but something closer to fascination. “You’re not from the village.”

He tilted his head. “Neither are you.”

His voice was calm, but edged in something darker. Something ancient.

“Did you follow me?” she asked.

“Would you believe me if I said no?”

They stared at each other. The moment stretched—too long, too quiet. Something passed between them. Recognition. Heat.

She should have backed away.

He should have said more.

But neither moved.

Then he stepped forward. Slowly. Deliberately. And for reasons she couldn’t explain, Ava didn’t stop him.

She let him.

He touched her face like he already knew it—like he’d dreamed it.

She didn’t flinch.

His lips brushed hers once. Light. A whisper of warmth.

And then again—stronger.

Her hands moved to his chest, not to push him away, but to hold on.

She should’ve pulled back. She knew nothing about him. Not his name. Not what he was. But the feeling in her chest—burning, spiraling—it silenced the logic in her mind.

He pulled her closer, his breath ragged now, heartbeat loud against her skin.

They kissed like time had stopped.

Not rushed. Not violent.

But intense.

Like something sacred was cracking open between them.

His hands traced the curve of her waist. Her cloak slid to the floor.

For a moment, she forgot the coven.

Forgot the rules.

Forgot who she was supposed to be.

And when they pulled apart—barely—she looked into his eyes and whispered, “What are you?”

He only smiled, a little sad.

“Something you’ve been taught to fear.”