MOONBOUND (A WEREWOLF)

CHAPTER ONE — THE NIGHT THE MOON CALLED MY NAME The first time the moon called my name, I was seventeen. I was running barefoot through the forest, blood dripping from my palm, with a pack of wolves hunting me. Not chasing. Hunting. There was a difference. I could hear their paws pounding against the wet earth behind me. Branches snapped. Leaves whipped against my face. My lungs burned, but I didn't dare slow down. “Lena!” My brother's voice echoed somewhere behind the trees. I turned. Nothing. Only darkness. “Lena, keep running!” That was the last thing I ever heard from him. A howl rose behind me. Then another. Then dozens. I ran faster. The forest of Blackthorn had always frightened me. Our village had been built at its edge, and everyone knew the stories. Children were warned never to enter after sunset. Wolves lived there. Monsters lived there. And somewhere deep inside those trees lived the creatures responsible for my mother's death. At least, that's what my father had always told me. I never questioned him. Until that night. I stumbled over a root and crashed onto the ground. Pain shot through my ankle. I tried to stand. I couldn't. The wolves were getting closer. Their eyes appeared between the trees. Golden. Cold. Hungry. I crawled backward until my shoulders hit a tree. There was nowhere left to run. A large wolf stepped into the moonlight. Its fur was silver. Unlike the others, it didn't growl. It simply stared at me. Then it lowered its head. And whispered my name. “Lena.” My blood turned cold. Wolves couldn't speak. Could they? The silver wolf took one step toward me. I screamed. A different sound answered from somewhere deeper in the forest. A howl so powerful that the entire pack froze. The silver wolf immediately bowed its head. The others followed. Something was coming. I felt it before I saw him. A presence. A pressure. Like the forest itself had suddenly become aware of something far more dangerous than me. Then he appeared. A man. Tall. Broad-shouldered. His black hair was damp from the rain, and his clothes were torn as though he'd been fighting. But it was his eyes that terrified me. Blue. Bright blue. Almost glowing. He looked at the wolves. “Leave.” One word. The entire pack disappeared. I stared at him. He turned toward me. For a moment, neither of us moved. Then his eyes widened. “You.” I swallowed. “Who are you?” He didn't answer. Instead, he walked toward me. I pressed myself against the tree. “Don't come closer.” He stopped. His jaw tightened. “You shouldn't be here.” “I live here.” “No.” His voice was strangely soft. “You don't belong here.” Something about the way he said it made my heart ache. He crouched several feet away. “You're bleeding.” I looked at my palm. The cut wasn't deep. But the blood had turned strangely dark. The man's expression changed. Fear. Real fear. “What happened to you?” “I fell.” “That's not what I mean.” He stared at my hand. Then at my face. Then he whispered something I couldn't understand. “What?” “Your scent.” I frowned. “My what?” He stood abruptly. “We have to go.” “Where?” “Anywhere but here.” I laughed nervously. “You're kidnapping me now?” His eyes flashed. “I'm trying to keep you alive.” Before I could respond, a gunshot exploded through the forest. The man's head snapped toward the sound. More followed. He grabbed my arm. “Run.” “Who is shooting?” “Hunters.” I froze. Hunters. My father had told me about them. Men who hunted wolves. But there was something he had never told me. They weren't hunting ordinary wolves. They were hunting werewolves. The man pulled me behind him. Three men emerged through the trees. Silver bullets. Crossbows. And weapons covered in strange symbols. One of them pointed at us. “There!” The man beside me growled. Not like a human. Like an animal. His fingers curled. His eyes burned blue. “Stay behind me.” The hunters fired. He moved faster than anything I had ever seen. He caught one arrow in midair. Then threw it back. A hunter screamed. Another fired. The stranger grabbed me and threw himself over my body. The bullet struck his shoulder. He grunted. “Go!” “You're hurt!” “Lena!” I froze. He knew my name. “How do you know me?” He looked into my eyes. “Because I've been searching for you for ten years.” My heart stopped. Before I could ask what he meant, his body began to change. Bones cracked. Muscles expanded. His skin rippled. A howl tore through the forest. And where the man had been standing... A gigantic black wolf stood. His blue eyes remained. I couldn't breathe. The wolf looked at me. Not with hunger. With recognition. With something far more terrifying. Love. Then he turned toward the hunters. And attacked