Moonbound Sins

Lyra’s POV The forest didn’t look like it remembered me. The last time I’d stepped on Bloodfang land, I was ten and small enough to hide behind my father’s leg whenever wolves stared. Now, at nineteen, the trees loomed taller, shadows heavier, and the path toward the pack house felt like it carried the eyes of everyone I couldn’t see but could feel. And me? I was just trying not to trip over my own boots. Perfect entrance: Alpha’s daughter, back for her father’s funeral, face-planting before the porch. The suitcase handle dug into my palm as I walked on, chin up, pretending the weight in my chest wasn’t crushing me. I’d built a city life, neon nights, friends who didn’t care that my eyes sometimes flashed silver, a world where “wolf” was just a word in fairy tales. But one phone call ended that. “Your father is gone. You have to come home.” The pack house rose above the trees, stone and slate like a fortress. Wolves stood on the porch, stiff and watchful, expressions unreadable. My stomach flipped. They weren’t just watching me, they were measuring me. And then I saw him. Damian Veylor. The last time I remembered him, he’d been my father’s Beta, tall, sharp-laughed, safe enough to carry me on his shoulders. But the man leaning against the railing wasn’t safe. He was danger carved in shadow, dark hair tied back, jaw rough, shoulders broad enough to make the porch look small. His eyes locked on me instantly, sharp enough to steal my breath. Oh no. Because my body’s reaction had nothing to do with grief and everything to do with the fact that my father’s Beta, now Alpha, I realized was the most dangerously attractive man I’d ever seen. And he was looking at me like he could see past every layer of city-girl bravado I’d wrapped around myself. “Hi,” I blurted, too brightly, dragging my suitcase up the step. “Surprise, the prodigal daughter returns. I promise I don’t bite.” The porch didn’t laugh. Damian didn’t smile. He just pushed off the railing, all six-foot-something of him unfolding like a warning. “You’re late,” he said, his voice low velvet, the kind that made bad ideas sound like promises. My knees almost buckled, but my mouth kept smiling anyway. “Fashionably. You know how I roll.” If he thought I was ridiculous, he didn’t say it. His expression stayed carved from stone, but his eyes lingered, cataloging every inch of me. Inside, the house smelled of wood, wax, and incense, heavy with grief. Wolves moved like statues around the coffin, candles burning in rows like a cathedral in mourning clothes. My father lay beneath pale flowers, smaller than I’d ever seen him. Grief hit me in sharp waves, but under it lived something messier, resentment, awkward memories, and a too-present awareness of Damian’s nearness. “You’ll have time with him before the rites,” Damian said, voice plain, as if the air didn’t already hum with authority around him. I bowed my head, touched my father’s cold hand, and let the weight roll through me. My laughter, once a shield, felt brittle tonight. Whispers rippled through the hall. “Alpha’s daughter,” a woman hissed, “back from the city to reclaim what she thinks is hers.” I grinned too wide. “Relax. I only came for the cake.” Humor was easier than letting them see me drown. Damian’s gaze never left me. Hard, unreadable, almost indulgent in its severity. The very idea that he saw me as frivolous made my chest flare hot. When the rites ended and the crowd began to drift, he walked me out as if it had already been decided I’d need his shadow at my back. Wolves dipped their heads to him, murmurs followed me: prodigal, soft, city-bred. My chin stayed high. If they wanted fragile, I’d give them sass. “You don’t belong here anymore,” Damian said outside, voice close enough to sting. I laughed too brightly. “Then make me.” His jaw tightened. “You’ll be expected to carry your father’s line. You’ll be watched.” “Noted, Mr. Watcher-in-Chief.” The faintest twitch of a smile flickered, gone as quickly as it came. He motioned me toward the east wing. “Your room is ready. Make it your own.” The corridor felt narrow with him beside me. My room was small but familiar: a bed, a chest, a window to the woods. My suitcase exploded into chaos as usual. Beneath the mattress, I found a book with my father’s handwriting: Lyra, for when you’re ready. My throat tightened. Later, I wandered to the common room where a few wolves lingered by the fire. Stew passed, bread broken, conversations muted under grief. It almost felt like family. And then I saw him again. Damian sat by the window, silhouette framed in firelight like a portrait of danger. When our eyes met, heat rushed up my neck. He crossed the room and sat too close, always too close. “You’ll have duties tomorrow,” he said. “Duties?” “You’ll observe the council, learn the elders, learn how to hold a knife. Learn to read the stance of a wolf who intends to break you.” “That sounds… cheery.” His mouth curved slightly. “It’s survival. Respect.” “And if I don’t?” “You belong by my side when I say you do.” The words landed like a brand on my bones. I laughed it off. “You sound like a statue with good teeth.” For the first time, his gaze softened. Brief, dangerous, unforgettable. By the time I left, the fire was low. At my door, he rested one hand against the frame, scent washing over me wild forests, iron, thunder. My wolf stirred. “Be careful,” he said. “Always,” I lied. That night, sleep refused me. The house creaked with settling wolves, the wind tugged the trees, and something inside me shifted. A prickle at my spine, an ache under my ribs the stirring of my wolf, long buried, suddenly awake. I pressed my palm to my chest, heartbeat too loud. A low sound rose from me, not a word, not a howl an ancestral echo I hadn’t known I was carrying. And through the corridor drifted footsteps. Steady. Deliberate. For one moment, they paused outside my door. I didn’t move, breath caught, pulse wild. Then the steps continued, fading into silence. I collapsed back on the bed, staring at the silver-lit trees. My wolf whispered promises I wasn’t ready to understand. And through it all, one name thrummed with every beat of my heart. Damian.