Mated By A Cold Blooded Alpha

Chapter 5: The First Blood Moon

Evangeline slipped back through the hidden bookshelf door just as heavy footsteps boomed outside in the main corridor. She slammed the panel shut, pressed her back against the dark wood, and forced her ragged breathing to slow.

Seconds later, the heavy iron bolt of her bedchamber door slid back with a sharp, echoing clank.

Beta Caelen stepped into the room, his dark eyes sweeping the bedchamber with predatory intensity. He scanned the drawn velvet curtains, the flickering fireplace, and finally settled his gaze on Evangeline, who was casually standing near the small washbasin, wringing out a damp cloth.

"Lady Evangeline," Caelen said, his voice dropping into a low, testing hum. "You are awake."

"It is difficult to sleep when my room smells of old dust and iron," Evangeline replied coolly, dabbing the damp cloth against her wrists without missing a beat. "Is it customary in Frostfell for the Beta to enter a lady’s private chambers unannounced late at night?"

Caelen’s jaw tightened. He took two slow strides into the room, his eyes darting toward the bookshelf behind her before returning to her face. "I thought I heard a disturbance in the wall shafts."

"These old stones howl when the wind picks up outside," she said, tossing the cloth into the basin with an indifferent shrug. "If you are looking for assassins, you might want to search the mountain passes rather than my bedroom."

Caelen stared at her for a long, silent moment. The tension in the air was so thick it threatened to snap, but finally, he offered a curt, razor-thin bow. "Get some rest. Tomorrow is the crimson twilight—the night of the Blood Moon. Alpha Julian expects you in the Great Hall at sunset."

When the door locked behind him once more, Evangeline let out a long breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

The Blood Moon.

In werewolf tradition, the Blood Moon was a night of heightened instinct, where the beast within fought hardest against human control. But if what Elder Vane had said was true—that Julian was afflicted by a blood curse—the Blood Moon wouldn't just heighten his power. It would push his suppression to its absolute breaking point.

The next evening, the sky over Mount Frostfell didn't fade to dusk; it bled. A deep, copper-red crimson smeared across the horizon, casting eerie, blood-hued shadows through the high stained-glass windows of the Citadel's Great Hall.

The room was filled with Frostfell elites—subordinate Alphas, seasoned warlords, and pack elders sitting around a massive stone table laden with roasted meat and dark wine.

At the head of the long table sat Julian Vane.

He wore dark tunic armor trimmed with silver fur, looking every bit the ruthless monarch of the North. But as Evangeline was escorted down the central aisle toward him, her keen wolf eyes caught what others were too afraid to look close enough to see.

Julian's knuckles were white as he gripped the armrests of his carved obsidian throne. Veins of dark, icy violet bulged faintly along his neck, creeping upward toward his jawline before disappearing beneath his skin. His breath was shallow, and his pale eyes were glazed with a terrifying, wild intensity.

The curse was clawing its way to the surface.

"Sit," Julian commanded as she reached his side. His voice was a harsh, rasping whisper, stripped of its usual smooth composure.

Evangeline took her seat beside him at the head table. As she sat down, her forearm brushed against his gloved wrist.

A violent spark.

The mate bond surged instantly, crackling like lightning through her skin. But this time, she didn't recoil. Through the raw connection of the bond, she felt a sudden, terrifying rush of his internal state—a howling, frozen tempest tearing through his mind, an agonized beast screaming behind an iron wall of pure willpower.

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes wide with shock. Julian flinched back slightly, pulling his arm away, his teeth grinding together so hard she heard the enamel strain.

"Don't touch me tonight," he growled low, his icy blue eyes flashing with a dangerous crimson tint. "Not tonight, Evangeline."

"You are in pain," she murmured, leaning in close so the surrounding elders couldn't hear. "The curse... it's tearing you apart."

Julian’s head snapped toward her, his gaze locking onto hers with lethal sharpness. "Who told you that word?"

Before she could answer, the heavy wooden doors at the end of the Great Hall blew inward with a violent, explosive blast.

Wood splinters and iron shrapnel rained down over the feast table. Screams erupted as dark, massive shapes poured through the dust and smoke—rogues, accompanied by armored mercenaries bearing the crest of the Obsidian Syndicate.

"Infiltration!" Caelen roared, drawing his broadsword. "Protect the Alpha!"

The hall devolved into total chaos. Frostfell warriors shifted mid-stride, their fur bursting through clothes as teeth and claws clashed in bloody melee.

Julian stood up slowly from his throne. But as he took a step forward to join the battle, he suddenly staggered, clutching his chest with a sharp, agonized gasp. The black veins on his neck flared dramatically, spreading up his cheeks like frozen frostbite.

A hulking syndicate mercenary wielding a massive, silver-tipped battleaxe spotted the vulnerable Alpha. With a guttural roar, the mercenary charged straight toward Julian, raising the silver blade high for a killing blow.

Julian couldn't move—his body was completely locked in the throes of his internal agony, paralyzed by the blood curse taking hold under the crimson moon.

Evangeline didn't hesitate.

She vaulted across the feast table, knocking over silver goblets and platters, and drew the silver dagger from her boot. As the mercenary brought the heavy axe down toward Julian's neck, Evangeline intercepted the blow, sliding under the warrior's guard and driving her dagger straight up into the soft flesh beneath the mercenary's jaw.

Hot, crimson blood sprayed across her face and tunic as the giant collapsed to the stone floor.

Evangeline stood over the fallen attacker, breathing heavily, her knife dripping blood. She turned around to check on Julian.

Julian was staring at her, slumped slightly against his throne. The red glow of the Blood Moon reflected in his wide, shocked eyes. The curse was still wracking his frame, but for the first time, his gaze held something other than cold detachment.

It was pure, stunned disbelief.

"Why?" Julian rasped out, his chest heaving as he stared at the blood on her hands. "You could have let him strike. You would have been free."

Evangeline wiped the blood from her cheek with the back of her hand, her eyes flashing with wild, fierce determination.

"I am no one's victim, Alpha Vane," she said softly, stepping closer and offering him her hand to pull him up. "And if you die, I lose my leverage. Now stand up and fight."