Chapter 9 – Blood on the Moon
620 Words
The night of the full moon came too quickly.
From her room, Elara could hear the howls rising outside, echoing through the mountains like thunder. The sound vibrated in her bones, primal and terrifying. She pressed her hands against her ears, but nothing could block the raw power of the pack shifting under the moonlight.
Her mark burned hotter than ever, pulsing in rhythm with the cries. It was as if the bond itself demanded she answer them.
The door burst open. Draven stood there, his chest bare, his skin already rippling with the shift that threatened to break through. His golden eyes blazed brighter than fire.
“You don’t leave this room,” he ordered, his voice strained as though every word was a battle.
Elara’s heart pounded. “What’s happening?”
“The blood moon,” he ground out. “It stirs instincts… hunger… violence. The pack will lose themselves tonight. And if they scent you—” His jaw tightened. “They’ll tear you apart.”
Fear gripped her throat. Outside, the howls sharpened into frenzied snarls. Shadows darted past the window — wolves circling, their shapes monstrous in the crimson light bleeding through the sky.
Elara clutched the bedpost. “Then stay. Don’t leave me.”
Draven shook his head, stepping closer until his heat wrapped around her like fire. “If I stay, I’ll lose control too. The bond ties me to you, and under the blood moon…” He cut himself off, eyes darkening with something raw, dangerous. “You wouldn’t survive it.”
Her breath caught. He turned away, but before he left, his hand lingered on the doorframe. “No matter what you hear, do not open this door. Swear it.”
“I…” She hesitated, the burning in her chest stealing her voice. Finally, she whispered, “I swear.”
The door slammed shut, and she was alone.
Minutes crawled by like hours. The walls trembled with the frenzy outside. She could hear claws raking stone, bodies colliding, the savage snarls of wolves losing themselves to bloodlust.
Then—
A scream split the night. Not an animal’s. A human’s.
Elara froze, her nails digging into her palms. The sound came again, desperate and broken, echoing from somewhere in the forest.
Her chest burned. The mark flared so violently it nearly knocked her off her feet. Her body screamed to move, to run, to follow.
“No,” she whispered, clutching the door. “He told me not to…”
Another scream tore through the night, weaker this time, choked with pain.
Elara’s tears blurred her vision. Every instinct told her to stay. But the bond was merciless, pulling her toward the cry like invisible chains dragging her forward.
Her hand trembled on the door handle. “Just one look. Just one…”
The bond surged, searing through her like fire. Her knees buckled, and with a strangled sob, she shoved the door open.
The air outside was thick with the copper tang of blood. The crimson moon glared down like an unblinking eye. Wolves moved like shadows in the distance, their eyes glowing feral red.
And at the edge of the forest, Elara saw it — a body dragged across the dirt, leaving a trail of blood that led straight into the trees.
Her breath shattered. She should run back inside, she should close the door — but her feet moved on their own, carrying her into the night, deeper into the cursed pull of the blood moon.
Behind her, in the chaos of snarls and screams, a single howl rose above the rest — deep, violent, filled with fury and desperation. Draven.
And it was coming straight for her.
- Writer
