Moon In Her Eyes

The moon wasn’t just full—it was watching her. Amara felt it in her skin, like a soft burn beneath the surface. Every step through the dark trees pulled her deeper into the forest... deeper into something she couldn’t explain. Her breath came slow, heavy. The cool night air kissed her bare arms, but inside, heat coiled in places she didn’t understand. Something was waking up inside her. Something wild. Something hungry. She shouldn’t be here. Talon Park was cursed. Everyone said so—especially the elders who still clutched rosaries when the moon rose. But Amara didn’t believe in curses. She believed in instincts. And tonight, they whispered one word: go. She followed the sound. A low hum. Not music. Not wind. It was calling her. The clearing opened like a secret. Moonlight spilled over ancient stones carved with symbols. At the center… a pulsing, silver mark etched into the earth. It shimmered like it recognized her. Her legs moved before her mind could object. She knelt, fingertips grazing the mark— Snap. A branch broke behind her. She froze. The air shifted. Thickened. She turned… and locked eyes with him. He stepped from the shadows like he belonged to them—tall, built like sin, and wearing a smirk that curled like smoke. Eyes like storm clouds. Jaw sharp enough to cut glass. And that scent.... Power. Heat. Danger. Her throat dried. He tilted his head. “You shouldn’t be here.” Neither should he. She rose slowly, not breaking his gaze. “Neither should you.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. She could tell he wasn’t used to being spoken to like that.Too bad. “I could drag you out of here,” he murmured, stepping forward. “But something tells me you’d scratch.” A slow, dangerous smile pulled at his lips. “Good.” The silence pulsed between them. Heavy. Hot. Who are you?” she asked. “I’m the one your little town pretends doesn’t exist,” he said. “The one they warn you about. The one they know better than to cross.” He raised an eyebrow. “So you’ve heard the name" “It’s hard not to. Your name’s soaked in fear.” His smirk faded. "And yours?” he asked. "Amara.” He repeated it like a promise. Amara.It sounded dangerous in his mouth. Something shimmered in his gaze, like recognition—or maybe possession. “You’re not like them,” he said. “Your scent... it’s different.” Her pulse skipped. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied. He was in front of her now. So close she could smell him—smoke, pine, heat. “I think you do,” he whispered. “Or you will.” Before she could speak, he reached up—slow, calculated—and brushed a loose curl from her cheek. The touch was electric. Her whole body tensed, like she’d been struck by lightning and kissed by it at the same time. “Careful, Amara,” he said, voice deepening. “You keep walking into places like this… and you’ll be mine before you even realize it.” Her breath hitched. And she knew—whatever this was, it wasn’t going away.