CHAPTER 2: BLOOD AND MOONLIGHT
1552 Words
The attack came fast.
A blur of motion, shadows leaping out of the trees. Hazel had no time to think before claws sliced through the place where she had been standing. She twisted, instincts sharper than thought, and drove her dagger upward.
Steel met flesh. A guttural snarl escaped the wolf as her blade raked across its ribs, dark blood spray splattering the wet earth.
Arthur stepped up next to her, a different kind of predator. Injured, he was still deadly, smooth, lethal. He went low, avoiding a strike and using the momentum to bring his elbow into the ribs of the attacker. A sharp c***k followed, and the wolf lurched backward, wheezing.
One came at him from the side. Arthur pivoted at the last moment, showing teeth in a look caught between snarl and grin.
“You picked the wrong day,” he muttered, dodging the blow and hitting his fist into the wolf’s jaw.
Hazel didn’t spend time watching. She twirled, dodging another set of claws, then slashed with a flick of her wrist. A vivid flare of magic erupted from her palm, red-hot, burning. The wolf howled as it stumbled back, its skin singed where her spell had hit.
More shadows circled. Too many.
They were not going to win this battle.
Arthur’s golden eyes shifted toward her.
“Run.”
Hazel scowled. “I don’t run.”
One wolf lunged at her, and she narrowly avoided it. Arthur was by her side in an instant, his fingers curling around her wrist. The contact sent a jolt through her, an uninvited awareness of the heat purring between them.
His voice was low, urgent. “You don’t have to trust me. But if you want to survive, you will listen.”
Hazel hesitated. The wolves were assembling again, eyes glinting in the dark. This was more than a rogue patrol. This was an ambush.
Her pulse pounded. If they stayed, they’d be besieged.
Arthur pulled her closer, his breath warm against her temple.
“Move.”
She hated it… hated to listen to him, hated that he was right. But pride was always secondary to survival.
Without another word, she whipped around and ran.
Arthur kept pace with her, his long strides powerful despite the wounds he carried. They darted among the trees, breath ghosting in the cold night air.
Hazel felt the wolves come closer, the growl stirring small flocks of birds from their perches and making Hazel's teeth rattle.
Then, up ahead… water. A river, slashing through land like silver glass. The current was quick, furious. A dead end.
Hazel cursed. “There’s no way across.”
Arthur looked over his shoulder. “Then we go through.”
Before she could protest, he seized her waist.
“What the…”
He seized her in and pulled her against him, the heat of his flesh purging even behind her garments. With a mighty shove, they plunged into the frigid water.
The river swallowed them whole.
***
The icy water shocked the breath from Hazel. The current crashed into them, a thundering force shoving them under the surface. Hazel turned and turned, trying to orient herself as the river spun them around like rag dolls.
Arthur tightened his arm around her waist. Drowned, half-conscious from his wounds, he still wouldn’t let go.
The world was a chaos of water churning, branches, and jagged rocks flashing by in the dark. Hazel kicked against the current, gasping.
Then… air.
They surfaced, gasping for air. Hazel hardly inhaled before the river pulled them back down.
Arthur’s arms locked around her. His body, still strong even in weakness, shifted… his wolf’s instincts struggling against the current.
“Wait,” he rasped, his lips so close to her ear.
Hazel missed the warmth of his breath on her skin before another wave of water descended upon them.
The river churned, pitching them downstream. The roar of a waterfall thundered ahead.
Hazel’s heart beat against her ribs.
They were mere seconds away from being swallowed by the fall.
Arthur cursed. His arm tightened around her, as he kicked toward a cluster of rocks that jutted from the water.
“Grab on!”
Hazel extended her hand, fingers sliding over the wet stone. She barely got an arm hooked around the edge before the rush of water almost pulled her out.
Arthur’s grip tore free.
Hazel’s stomach plummeted.
He was swept under the current.
But she moved without thinking, propelling herself after him. Cold water slapped over her, taking her sight and her breath, until her fingers touched fabric.
Arthur.
Adrenaline pumping, Hazel clamped onto his arm. With all she had, she kicked toward the surface, pulling him with her.
Together they broke through the water, gasping.
The current deposited them on the muddy bank, the two of them crumpling into a heap of limbs. Hazel turned over and lay on her back, chest rising and falling, drenched hair glued to her face.
For a long moment, all she could hear was her own thudding heart.
Then… laughter.
A deep, rasping chuckle.
Hazel glanced to her left and glared. Arthur. He lay next to her, just as wet, just as tired, but smiling like a damn fool.
“You’re crazy,” she gasped.
Arthur’s golden eyes glanced over at her.
“You jumped in after me, witch.”
Hazel frowned, but she couldn’t deny the truth of what he said.
For a few moments, they just lay there, panting, the surrounding world steeped in the odor of damp clay and river mist.
Then Arthur rolled to her side, resting on one elbow. His eyes traveled over her, assessing, lingering.
Hazel swallowed. The heat they felt between them had nothing to do with the cold.
He smirked. “You look good soaked.”
She pushed him back into the mud.
***
Arthur’s laugh was deep with mirth as he fell back, a spurt of mud splashing up. Hazel glared at him, but his half-smiling, rain-soaked, unbothered face made her pulse race. She couldn’t make up her mind whether she wanted to punch him or…
“Stop looking at me like that,” she said, getting to her feet and brushing the water off her soaked clothes.
“You’re impossible.”
Arthur sat up slowly, brushing mud from his face. His golden eyes flickered with some unreadable emotion as they ran over her wet form.
Hazel held his gaze, even though something fluttered in her stomach and a strange warmth spread through her chest.
“I never claimed to be easy to handle,” he said, his voice low, though the amusement still danced in the corners of his mouth.
“But you’ve been looking at me just fine.”
“Just keep talking,” Hazel snapped, her eyes narrowing.
“And I will leave you here to drown, hurt wolf.”
His smirk never faded. “Won’t be the first time I’ve been abandoned to die.”
Hazel’s lips parted, a sharp retort forming, but she stopped. There was something in his voice bitterness, some raw, untold edge of pain. Their eyes met for a split second, and suddenly there was a charge in the air between them, something electrifying.
Hazel broke eye contact first, clearing her throat.
“We should move. We don’t know how many are out there.”
Arthur wiped a hand across his face, then cautiously rose. He swayed a bit but steadied himself with a breath. And his wounds weren’t only physical, she could see the toll of exhaustion in his body, the strain in each of his movements. He stood tall nevertheless.
“Yeah, we should,” he said, his tone more serious now.
“But you are not leaving me behind. We’re in this together.”
Hazel opened her mouth to argue, to insist that she could handle everything on her own, but there was something in his eyes that stopped her.
“You need me,” Arthur pressed, voice steady, intent gaze unbroken.
“The wolves, I mean, those weren’t just stragglers. They’re watching you. And until they get what they want, they’re going to keep coming.”
His words made her pulse quicken. She had known the dangers of this mission, but to hear him say it so plainly… so confidently, sent a shiver down her spine.
“I didn’t ask for your help,” Hazel said, but even to her own ears, the words sounded weaker than she wanted them to.
Arthur’s eyes softened for an instant. “Doesn’t matter.”
He shrugged. “But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you take the fall alone.”
Hazel took a steadying breath as her heart raced, though not from fear of the wolves. The proximity to him, the intensity with which he looked, the heat still almost burning between them even after everything.
A slight rustle in the trees broke her out of it, and she instantly dropped into a defensive stance, hand flying to her dagger.
“Come on,” she said curtly, without looking back.
“No more distractions.”
Arthur matched his pace to hers, the two of them moving together, quiet and attuned. The woods around them appeared to still, as if even the trees waited.
The night was far from over.
- Writer
