Dark Moon Rising

The Bloodmoon Ball

Freya's POV

The Bloodmoon Ball

As I descend the grand staircase, my keen wolf senses catch Lucian Draven’s eyes trailing over me, taking in every detail. I smirk, satisfaction bubbling up inside me from our last encounter when I outmaneuvered him. Two days may have passed, but the thrill of victory still lingers in my mind.

But I’m not the only one who’s caught someone’s attention tonight. Lucian looks undeniably striking. Damn it, I shouldn’t even be thinking that. He’s dressed in a midnight-black suit, his muscles rippling beneath the fabric. His brown hair is tousled just enough to give him that dangerous edge, a few rebellious strands falling over his forehead. His jawline is sharp, like a blade, and his honey-brown eyes burn into me before he scowls and turns away.

When I reach the bottom of the stairs, wolves from various packs approach, eager to talk about pack business. It’s all so dull.

Two hours later, I’m already drained. We’ve eaten, sealed deals with some new packs trying to make a name for themselves, and danced enough to fill a whole moon’s cycle. Now, I’m on the dance floor with Fenrir, one of my pack’s top warriors and Beta.

"I’m surprised you haven’t given Lucian a second glance," Fen remarks, his tone teasing.

"Shut up. You know that’s not true, you fool," I retort, rolling my eyes.

"Oh no, looks like I’ll have to pass you off to someone else now," he says with a grin.

I let out an exasperated sigh. "Ugh. Not again."

I loathe these formal dances. Every partner thinks they can charm me when all I’m doing is counting down the seconds until the song ends and I can escape from their desperate advances.

This place is just filled with clowns who think themselves Alphas; I wonder how they managed to rule their packs.

Fenrir swings me to the next partner, who catches me with hands that are a little too eager, settling them on my waist. The urge to snap those hands off is overwhelming.

He tries to engage me in conversation, but I ignore him, letting my icy silence do the talking.

"Well, I guess it’s time to let you go, beautiful," he says with a wink, flashing me one of those arrogant smiles. I offer him the most insincere smile I can muster. The audacity of these wolves astounds me. Doesn’t he know who I am? Next time he lays a paw on me, I’ll—

My thoughts are abruptly cut off by a familiar, deep voice.

"Well, well, look at that. Freya Astrid," Who else would it be but Lucian? He spoke with his tone dripping with venom as he smiled down at me. But it’s not a friendly smile; it’s the kind of smile that promises trouble.

"Well, if it isn’t Lucian Draven," I reply, mocking him with a smirk. "What’s got your fur all ruffled? Still mad because I took down Kael?" I add, pouting slightly as he leads me in the dance, forcing me to step back as he advances.

His jaw tightens, and I can feel the tension radiating off him. I know Kael had terrorized his pack too, and it would have brought him great joy to know he died by his claws, but no, I stole that from him.

I click my tongue. "Don’t be so hard on yourself, Lucian. Maybe one day you’ll get it right," I say, a small smirk playing on my lips as we sway to the music, our eyes locked in a stare filled with pure hatred.

"Don’t get too comfortable, Freya. One day, you’ll end up lying dead in an alley, just like Kael," he growls, the threat clear in his voice.

I chuckle softly. Is that supposed to scare me?

The dance continues until Lucian takes hold of my leg, where the slit of my dress reveals my hidden silver knives and other werewolf weapons. He pulls me closer, his large hand trailing slowly up my thigh. My breath catches as his touch sends an electric shiver through me, and his smirk widens at my reaction.

His lips are inches from my ear as he whispers, "Carrying silver knives and wolfsbane at a ball? Naughty girl, aren’t you?"

In no time, the room has already gone silent, all eyes fixed on us, two enemies locked in a dance, closer than rivals should ever be. This isn’t something you see every day.

I shift, my leg still wrapped around his waist, and trail my hand inside his suit jacket, feeling for the gun tucked at the back of his trousers. Leaning closer to his ear, I whisper seductively, "Well, I’m not the only one, am I? Some coward Alpha brought a gun."

The music stops, and before I pull away, I nip at his earlobe, making his jaw clench even tighter.

I walk away with a deliberate sway in my hips, adding an extra bit of tease to my step. Grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, I head out to the balcony, where Seraphina had asked to meet.

Taking a sip, I see Seraphina already leaning against the railing, her back to me.

"Hey. Any news?" I ask as I approach.

Seraphina shakes her head. "No. It’s like they don’t even exist. If they’re planning something, we’re in deep trouble. They’re damn good at covering their tracks."

I frown and down the rest of my champagne in one gulp. "I know they’re behind the recent raids. No one does it like them."

The Shadow Claw Pack. It hasn’t been proven, but over the past three moons, weapons and other supplies have been stolen from four of my territories around the globe, including the unexplained attacks and deaths of some of my packmates outside my territory.

You might think it was Lucian.

But no. I know Draven, and I know his methods. I’m always one step ahead of him. Stealing from me isn’t his style.

I don’t know what the Shadow Claws are planning, but I can feel it in my gut—this ball is a trap, and it’s been set for me. My instincts have never been wrong.