Chapter 10 – The Alpha’s Rage
630 Words
The forest swallowed Elara whole. Branches whipped at her skin as she stumbled after the trail of blood, her lungs burning with each breath. The copper scent grew stronger, mingling with the earth and shadows.
“Hello?” she called, her voice breaking. No answer. Only the growl of wolves circling in the distance.
Her mark seared like fire, pulling her forward. She didn’t know if it wanted her to find the wounded stranger—or if it was dragging her to her doom.
A sudden snarl ripped through the night. From the darkness, two wolves lunged into the path ahead. Their eyes glowed red beneath the blood moon, foam dripping from their fangs.
Elara froze, her body trembling. They lowered their heads, ready to strike. She backed away, heart slamming against her ribs—until another sound cut through the chaos.
A howl. Deep. Fierce. Unmistakable.
Draven.
The wolves snapped their heads toward the sound just as a massive shadow burst into the clearing. Golden eyes blazed in the crimson light, and in an instant, Draven was no longer a man but a beast—an enormous black wolf, larger than any she had ever imagined.
He hit the first wolf so hard the ground shook. Claws tore, fangs snapped, blood sprayed across the trees. The second wolf tried to flee, but Draven was faster, his jaws closing around its neck with a crack that silenced the night.
Elara staggered back, her breath stolen. The sight of him—raw power, deadly grace—was terrifying and mesmerizing all at once. He was every nightmare whispered about the Alpha, every warning made flesh.
But his fury wasn’t aimed only at his enemies.
When the last wolf fell lifeless, Draven’s head whipped toward her. His golden eyes locked on Elara, and for the first time, she saw no restraint. No control. Only rage.
She broke her promise.
A growl rumbled from deep in his chest as he stalked closer. His enormous frame towered over her, his fangs glinting under the blood moon.
“Draven…” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Please—it’s me.”
The bond flared, wild and erratic, pulling at both of them. Her mark blazed as if it recognized the danger, as if it feared him.
He stopped just inches away, his hot breath washing over her skin. His eyes flickered, fighting the pull of the moon, but the beast inside him was winning.
“You shouldn’t be here,” his voice broke through, guttural and strained, the words barely human. “I told you—” His claws dug into the earth. “I can’t control it.”
Tears blurred her vision. “Then fight it. Please. For me.”
For a heartbeat, he hesitated. His chest heaved, muscles straining, as if the bond itself was chaining him between protecting her and destroying her.
A rustle came from the trees. The scent of blood returned, sharper, nearer. Draven’s head snapped toward it, his snarl echoing like thunder. Whoever had screamed was still out there—and still alive.
The distraction gave Elara just enough time to step back. “Let me help you,” she pleaded.
But Draven’s gaze returned to her, wild and dangerous. His wolf clawed at the surface, and his aura slammed into her so hard her knees buckled.
“Elara,” he growled, his voice trembling with both fury and pain, “if you don’t run now… I won’t be able to stop myself.”
The mark seared hot against her chest, urging her to flee. But her feet refused to move, torn between terror and the desperate pull of the bond that tied her to the beast before her.
And then, in the blood moon’s crimson glow, Draven lunged.
- Writer
