Rogue Blood
1132 Words
The forest swallowed me whole.
Thorns tore my skin. Branches whipped my face until blood ran down my cheek. Behind me, Blackthorn territory died. The howls of the pack faded into nothing.
Ahead, only darkness. Rogues. Death.
My bare feet bled with every step. Each cut was a reminder. Unwanted. Unmated. Unprotected. Moonlight barely reached through the thick canopy. The rejection pain still ripped through my chest like claws. Like Damien’s teeth tearing me open from the inside.
Run, Lyra whined in my head. My wolf. Shaking. Small. Cowering. They’ll kill us. We’re nothing now.
I stumbled. Fell to my knees in cold mud. Wet. Dirty. Humiliating.
“Pathetic,” I whispered to myself. Damien’s word. His last gift to me.
I pressed my hand to my chest. The skin where his mark should be was still burning. Not with his mark. With something else. Something hot and angry that pulsed under my ribs.
That’s when I heard them.
Growls. Low. Close. Circling.
Three rogues stepped from the shadows. Male. Huge. Shoulders like boulders. Eyes glowing red in the dark. Their fur matted with old blood and dirt. Their mouths dripped with hunger and spit.
“Fresh meat,” the first one laughed. His voice was rough like broken stone. No fur on his arms. Half-shifted. Claws out. “Exiled Luna. No pack. No protection. No Alpha.”
The second one circled me slowly, like I was prey already dead. He sniffed the air. “She reeks of rejection. Pathetic. Barren blood.”
The third just stared at my neck. At the bare skin where Damien’s mark should be. He licked his lips. “No scent. She’s nothing. Let’s make it quick before the Alpha notices.”
Pain + Fear + Rage.
My wolf pressed against my ribs, too scared to shift. Too weak. Too broken by the rejection. Fourteen years of loving Damien died tonight. Now this? Torn apart in rogue territory like trash?
“No,” I whispered. But my voice shook.
Get up, a voice hissed in my mind. Not Lyra. Deeper. Older. Female. Ancient. You are not dying here, daughter.
I ignored it. I couldn’t even stand. My legs were jelly. My chest was a wound.
The first rogue lunged. Claws out. Aimed straight for my throat. No hesitation. No mercy.
I closed my eyes. Waited for the pain. Waited for the end.
NO. The voice roared inside me. Not a whisper. A command. NOT LIKE THIS. NOT TO YOU.
Pain exploded in my chest. Not rejection pain. Fire pain. Burning pain. Like the full moon itself was cracking open inside my ribs and pouring molten silver into my veins.
My back arched so hard my spine felt like it would snap. I screamed. But the sound that came out wasn’t human.
It was a howl.
Deep. Ancient. Furious.
The ground shook under my knees. Leaves fell from the trees.
The rogues stumbled back, eyes wide. Claws dropped.
“What— what was that?” the first one choked.
“Her eyes— look at her eyes—”
I opened them.
No brown. No human color left.
Gold. Molten gold. Like Damien’s eyes. But hotter. Wilder. Angry. Like the sun had decided to live inside me.
The voice in my head spoke again, calm now. Certain. Deadly. I am not Lyra. I am the Blood Moon. And you, daughter of the old blood, are not trash. You are not weak. You are not barren.
Power surged through my veins. It burned. It healed. Bones I didn’t know were cracked snapped back into place with loud pops. The cuts on my feet closed. Blood in the mud stopped flowing.
I stood.
Slowly. Barefoot. Bleeding moments ago. But standing now. Tall.
The first rogue charged again. Desperation in his eyes.
I didn’t move. I didn’t flinch. I just raised my hand. Palm out.
A wave of silver light burst from my skin. It slammed into him like a truck. Threw him twenty feet back into a thick oak tree. Bark cracked. He slid down and didn’t move again.
The other two froze.
Fear replaced hunger in their red eyes.
“What are you?” the second one whispered. His voice shook. “No rejected wolf does that. No Luna—”
I smiled. And it wasn’t Lyra’s smile. It was sharper. Colder. Older.
“Nothing,” I said. My voice echoed in the forest. But it wasn’t just mine. It was hers too. The Blood Moon. “I am nothing. The nothing you should have feared.”
I took one step forward. The forest went silent. Even the wind stopped breathing.
The remaining rogues backed away. Then turned and ran. Howling for help that wouldn’t come.
Silence.
Only me. Only the sound of my heart trying to break out of my chest. Only the burning in my palms.
Then the trees moved.
Not from wind. From him.
A shadow dropped from above. Silent. Deadly. No wasted movement.
He landed between me and the empty space where the rogues were.
Tall. Built like stone and scars. Silver eyes that cut through the dark like knives. Black hair fell past his shoulders. Scars crossed his face. One thick scar over his left eye. Old. Deep. Like he’d survived hell.
His scent hit me like a wall. Pine. Smoke. Blood. Thunder before a storm. Alpha. Powerful. Dangerous.
The air around him felt heavy. Like the moon was watching him too.
He didn’t look at the dead rogue. He didn’t look at the forest.
He looked at me.
Those silver eyes locked on mine. On my gold ones.
He froze.
Every muscle in his body locked. His nostrils flared once. Twice. He was scenting me. Searching. Confused.
Then his jaw tightened. Disbelief flashed across his face and was gone in a second.
“Impossible,” he whispered. Voice like gravel. Like thunder far away. Like a man who’d seen ghosts.
He took one step toward me. Then stopped himself. Fists clenched at his sides like he was fighting the urge to touch me.
“You’re rejected,” he said. Not a question. Like he didn’t believe it. Like the moon goddess herself lied to him.
I said nothing. My hands still burned with silver light. My chest still burned with her. The Blood Moon was awake now.
He stared at my neck. At the bare skin. No mark. No mate bond. Nothing but pale skin and defiance.
His eyes met mine again. And for one second, I saw it behind the scars and the cold.
Recognition.
Shock.
And something else. Something dangerous. Something that looked a lot like fate.
The forest held its breath.
Then he spoke, five words that changed everything for both of us:
“You smell like my mate.”
- Writer
