Bound By The Moon

Chapter 2: The Feral Exile

The rain hammered through the trees, cold and relentless, but I barely felt it. The storm outside was nothing compared to the one inside me—years of rage, longing, and need tangled in the pit of my gut, clawing for release.

I smelled her before I saw her. Liora. That impossible combination of wildflower and rain, of memory and promise. Her scent hit me like a punch, threading through the storm, awakening everything I’d tried to bury. My c**k stirred at just the ghost of her—five years gone and the ache was sharper now, desperate, savage.

I stalked the clearing, half-man, half-wolf, and all hunger. The woods pressed close; the shadows writhed with the wind, but the only thing in focus was her: Liora, soaked to the skin, dress clinging to her curves, eyes wide with want and terror and something that crackled between us—our bond, alive and urgent after too long left for dead.

I stepped into the open, letting her see every scar, every muscle, every piece of the beast I’d become. She watched me like I was both a prayer and a curse. I could see her shivering—not just from the cold, but from the same electric need that buzzed in my veins. My gaze locked on her and the bond snapped tight. Molten. Immediate.

I stopped just shy of touching her, towering over her trembling form. “Why are you here?” My voice was rough, broken, years of pain trembling in every syllable.

She swallowed, voice small but hungry. “I had to see you. I couldn’t—”

The sound of her, the sight of her—too much. I silenced her with a snarl, shoving her back against a tree. The bark scraped her skin, but I didn’t care. My hands found her hips—soaked, soft, trembling, perfect. Not with fear—never fear—but with the same wild need I felt ripping through me.

“Don’t lie to me, Liora. You came because the bond called you. Because you want what you shouldn’t.”

I saw it in her cheeks—the heat, the shame, the hunger that matched my own. I couldn’t wait. My lips crashed onto hers, hard and devouring, tasting five years of longing and regret. She moaned into my mouth, clutching at my hair, her body winding tight around mine. Her need stoked the fire in me, sent it roaring.

I wedged my thigh between hers and felt her rub against me, needy, desperate for any friction. Her dress bunched at her hips, my hand sliding up to brand her thigh with my touch. She arched, throat bared to me, and gods, I wanted to bite, to mark her, to remind us both what we were.

My fingers trailed up her inner thigh, teasing, slick with her need. “Tell me to stop and I will,” I rasped in her ear, even as my control slipped.

She shook her head, breathless, eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare.”

A feral grin split my lips. Hands shaking, I tore her dress, baring her to the storm. Rain lashed her skin, but my mouth was hotter than any fire as I closed around her n****e, sucking hard, tongue flicking, listening to her helpless cry. Her hands clung to me, digging into my shoulders, every touch begging for more.

I slid my hand beneath her panties, fingers finding her soaked and ready. I slipped two fingers inside her, slow and practiced, savoring how she clenched around me, how she bit her lip and shivered beneath my hand. My thumb danced over her c**t, circling, relentless, never letting her catch her breath.

She was a mess of need, of broken pleas—“Grayden—please—”—not sure if she wanted me to stop or never, ever stop.

I pressed against her, grinding my c**k along her thigh, voice thick with possessive hunger. “You missed this. You missed me.”

She whimpered, hips rolling shamelessly, chasing the edge. I added a third finger, stretching her, and she shattered for me, crying out, her body milking my hand, her voice lost in the storm. My name on her lips made me harder, made me reckless.

I caught her before she could fall, kissing her deep, tongue stealing the last of her moans, her taste flooding my senses. Nothing but rain and mud and Liora.

I couldn’t wait another second. I pressed the head of my c**k to her entrance, thick and throbbing, teasing at her slick folds. I held, just for a breath, letting the storm and the bond and her eyes all crash together.

“Say it,” I growled, voice wild. “Say you want this.”

She stared up at me—defiant, desperate, mine. “I want you. I want all of you.”

Something inside me snapped. I entered her in one brutal thrust, filling her, stretching her, demanding surrender and finding it. She cried out, nails raking my back, her body opening to me all at once, the bond screaming in both our veins.

I set a merciless pace, pounding into her, flesh slapping flesh, the world outside lost in the storm. She wrapped her legs around me, taking me deeper, pulling me in until I was everywhere—inside her, around her, claiming her in every way.

I bit her shoulder, marking her, and she arched for me, gasping, so perfect I almost lost control. Every thrust, every desperate moan, every claw of my hand on her hip sent the bond roaring through us—power, wild and untamable.

When I came, it was with a snarl, filling her, name tangled on her tongue, the world fracturing into lightning and pleasure. She followed me, convulsing around me, our bond singing with completion.

I collapsed atop her, shielding her from rain, breath hot in her hair. For a heartbeat, nothing else existed—not exile, not curses, not pain—just the storm, the heat still pulsing between her legs, and my heart pounding against hers.

“You should go,” I whispered, voice breaking on the words I never wanted to say. “It’s not safe.”

She clung to me, fingers in my hair. “Not without you.”

I kissed her again, softer, lingering, then forced myself to pull away, vanish into the trees. Shadow among shadows, haunted by the bond that pulsed brighter than ever—unbreakable, even as I ran.