Blood and Moon fire
The night smelled of smoke and death.
Demze Las gripped the silver dagger tighter, her heart slamming against her ribs as she sprinted through the burning trees. Screams ripped through the forest behind her, her warriors, her friends, falling one by one to the Forman wolves. Another raid gone wrong. Another night the Las pack paid in blood for daring to fight back.
“Keep running!” she snarled at the two surviving soldiers beside her. “The border is.....”
A massive black wolf exploded from the shadows, slamming into her side like a freight train. Pain exploded through her ribs. Demze hit the ground hard, rolling, tasting dirt and blood. Before she could rise, heavy paws pinned her down. Hot breath scorched her neck.
“Got you, little Las b***h,” a guttural voice growled.
She drove her dagger upward, but a clawed hand caught her wrist and twisted. The weapon fell. Rough hands yanked her arms behind her back and bound them with enchanted ropes that burned like acid against her skin.
“No!” she screamed, thrashing wildly. “Get your filthy hands off me!”
They dragged her anyway.
Hours later, Demze was thrown into the cold stone dungeon beneath Forman Castle. Her knees cracked against the floor. Blood trickled from a cut on her forehead, stinging her eye. She spat blood and glared up at her captors through the iron bars.
“Tell your Alpha I’ll carve his heart out the second I get free,” she hissed.
The guards only laughed. “You’ll be dead before sunrise, sweetheart.”
The heavy door slammed shut, leaving her in near darkness. Demze leaned against the damp wall, breathing hard. She had failed. Again. How many more of her people had died tonight because she’d led them straight into a trap?
She closed her eyes, whispering a prayer to the Moon Goddess. *Give me one chance. Just one.*
Footsteps echoed down the stone corridor. Heavy. Confident. Lethal.
Demze’s head snapped up. Even before the tall figure appeared, something inside her chest began to pull—tight, insistent, terrifying.
The cell door opened.
Axiel Forman stepped inside.
He was taller than the stories claimed, broader, more terrifying. Midnight-black hair fell across a face carved from violence and arrogance. Sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and eyes like frozen thunder—dark gray with flecks of silver that seemed to glow in the torchlight. A long scar ran from his left temple down to his jaw, making him look every inch the merciless Alpha King who had slaughtered hundreds of her kind.
He wore a black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the powerful lines of his chest and the silver alpha mark burned into his skin. Power rolled off him in waves, dark and suffocating.
Demze’s breath caught.
And then it happened.
The bond snapped into place like lightning striking her soul.
A burning heat flooded her veins. Her wolf surged forward, howling with desperate joy, recognition, *need*. Every inch of her skin tingled. Her heartbeat synced with his—she could *feel* it. The scent of him—pine, smoke, and raw masculine power—wrapped around her like invisible chains.
*Mate.*
No. No. *No.*
Axiel froze mid-step. His dark eyes widened, then narrowed dangerously. A low, animalistic growl rumbled from his chest as he stared at her like she was both salvation and poison.
“You,” he said, voice deep and rough, laced with fury and something far more dangerous. “You’ve got to be f*****g kidding me.”
Demze pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the pain in her body. Her hands shook as she pressed them against the wall for support. “Stay away from me,” she whispered, but her voice cracked.
Axiel stalked closer until only inches separated them. He towered over her, his massive frame caging her in without even touching. His gaze dropped to her lips, then slowly dragged back up, dark with hunger.
“I should kill you right now,” he murmured, almost tenderly. One large hand rose, his thumb brushing a streak of blood from her cheek. The touch sent electricity shooting straight between her thighs. “End the Las line. End this war.”
Demze’s breath hitched. Her n*****s tightened traitorously against her torn shirt. She hated him,hated everything he stood for,but her body was melting, aching, yearning for the enemy who had destroyed her world.
“Do it then,” she spat, lifting her chin in defiance even as fresh heat pooled low in her belly. “Kill me, Forman. Or are you too weak to finish what you started?”
Axiel’s eyes flashed silver. In one brutal motion, he slammed his hand against the wall beside her head, caging her completely. His face lowered until his lips hovered just above hers, his hot breath mingling with her own.
“Careful, little enemy,” he growled, voice thick with dark promise. “The Moon Goddess just made you mine. And I don’t share what’s mine… even if I want to hate you.”
Demze’s wolf purred. Her mind screamed.
The war outside these walls had just become far more dangerous, because the man she needed to kill was now the only man her body would ever crave.
