CROWNED BY THE MOON CLAIMED BY THE ALPHA

🌕 CHAPTER ONE – Marked by the Night Celeste hated quiet towns. They listened too much. The city she had fled was loud — sirens, traffic, people arguing, life happening. Noise was comfort. Noise meant distraction. This town? It watched. Her shift at the hospital had been brutal. Twelve hours of blood, tears, and strained smiles. Her feet ached inside her shoes, and all she could think about was collapsing into bed with a mug of hot cocoa and pretending the past no longer existed. She tightened her coat around herself and turned onto the narrow road that led to her apartment. That was when she heard it. A crack. Soft. Distant. She paused. Probably an animal. She kept walking. Another sound. Closer. Not light. Not small. Heavy. Measured. Her heartbeat quickened. Don’t look back. Her steps picked up. The air shifted — thick, charged, almost electric. Then it came. A howl. Deep. Violent. Ancient. It tore through the silence and straight into her bones. Her breath caught. Something was running. Fast. Too fast. She turned. And it flew past her in a blur of dark fur and muscle. Not a dog. Impossible. It was enormous. Power rippled through its body as it collided with another creature just as large. Teeth snapped. Claws scraped. Growls vibrated through the ground beneath her feet. Celeste couldn’t breathe. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. The larger wolf moved with terrifying precision. Dominant. Ruthless. In seconds, it overpowered the other. A final, crushing growl sent the defeated creature fleeing into the trees. Silence fell. The victorious wolf stood still. Then slowly… it turned toward her. Golden eyes locked onto hers. And everything inside her stilled. Not fear. Not exactly. Something else. Recognition. Her chest tightened painfully. She didn’t understand it — but she felt seen. Claimed. No. That’s insane. Tears streamed down her face. “I don’t want to die,” she whispered to no one. The wolf stepped toward her. One step. Two. It did not look hungry. It looked… certain. The world tilted. Darkness crept in at the edges of her vision. And just before she collapsed— Strong arms caught her. — Ziron felt it the moment their eyes met. The bond. Violent. Unforgiving. Fated. His wolf roared inside him. Mine. Impossible. She was human. Fragile. Mortal. Forbidden. The Moon did not make mistakes. Yet here she was. Unconscious in his arms. And for the first time in years… Alpha Ziron felt afraid. — When Celeste woke, warmth surrounded her. Not her apartment. The ceiling was wooden. The sheets softer than hers. The air smelled of cedar, smoke, and something wild that made her pulse race. She sat up abruptly. Pain flickered behind her eyes. The door opened. And he stepped inside. He filled the room without trying. Tall. Broad. Bare-chested. Faint scars traced across his skin — old battles written in flesh. His presence pressed against her senses, powerful yet controlled. And those eyes. Golden. The same eyes from the forest. Her breath left her. No. No, no, no. “You’re awake,” he said. His voice was deep, steady — but layered with something restrained. She stared at him openly. He didn’t look embarrassed. He didn’t look unsure. He looked like a king assessing something that already belonged to him. Her gaze drifted — against her will — down his chest. Heat flooded her face. His eyebrow lifted slightly. “You are staring,” he observed calmly. Her eyes snapped upward. “I— I was not—” A flicker of amusement touched his expression. Slow. Dangerous. “You were unconscious,” he continued. “I removed your damaged clothing to treat your injuries.” Her face turned crimson. “Injuries?” “You fainted.” That voice. Why does it sound like it’s wrapping around me? She swallowed. “What… what are you?” The room grew very still. For a fraction of a second, something primal flashed behind his eyes. “I am,” he said slowly, “the reason you are still alive.” Her pulse quickened. “That thing in the forest—” “Was not meant for you.” His gaze darkened slightly. “But it will come again.” A chill ran down her spine. “Why are you helping me?” she whispered. Silence. Then quietly— “Because,” he said, voice low, controlled, almost strained, “you are not random.” Her heart skipped. “What does that mean?” He stepped closer. Not touching her. Not yet. But close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his skin. “It means,” he said softly, “that the night you chose to run to this town… you ran straight into me.” And neither of them understood yet… That the Moon had already decided.