Chapter Six: Bloodline
865 Words
Morning came like a whisper instead of a scream. Pale sunlight bled through the windows, illuminating the room in silvery warmth. But Elara didn’t feel warmth. Not entirely.
She stood at the balcony in Zayne’s oversized robe, the silk brushing her skin like a second layer of memory. Beneath it, she was marked—by his mouth, by the fire in her blood, by the truth clawing its way through her soul.
Royal bloodline.
Hidden power.
A wolf inside her that wasn’t supposed to exist.
Her reflection shimmered in the glass. She didn’t look different, not yet. But something deep in her bones knew better.
Zayne walked up behind her, shirtless, his presence vibrating through her before he even touched her. When his hand slid gently across her waist, she leaned into him instinctively. Like he was gravity.
“You didn’t sleep,” he said against her ear.
“I couldn’t,” she whispered.
He didn’t ask why. He knew. The questions crashing through her mind were loud enough to keep the moon company.
Zayne pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “You want answers.”
“I want the truth,” she said. “All of it.”
He exhaled, guiding her back inside. “Then you need to see the Alpha.”
She turned sharply. “I thought you were the Alpha.”
Zayne smirked, but it was bitter. “No. I’m powerful. Wealthy. Feared in some circles. But there’s only one true Alpha of the Blackthorn Bloodline. And he doesn’t like surprises.”
“Then I guess he’ll hate me.”
Zayne’s eyes darkened with a mix of concern and… pride. “He might. But he won’t touch you. Not while you’re mine.”
She raised a brow. “Am I?”
“You were the second your wolf responded to me. The bond’s already started forming. That kind of connection doesn’t happen by accident.”
Elara’s chest tightened. “A bond? You mean like… mate-bond?”
He nodded slowly.
She turned away. “You don’t even know me.”
“I don’t have to,” Zayne said. “My wolf does.”
Elara didn’t know whether to run or melt.
Everything was happening too fast. Her body. Her instincts. Zayne. The idea of being tied to a man for eternity by something non-negotiable—it terrified her. Even if part of her wanted it.
“I need to breathe,” she said, slipping from his arms.
Zayne didn’t stop her. He watched her walk into the guest bathroom, the tension between them buzzing like electricity trapped in the walls.
Behind the closed door, Elara leaned on the marble counter, staring at herself. Her skin glowed faintly, her lips swollen, eyes rimmed in gold she hadn’t had yesterday.
What am I becoming?
She opened the robe and stared at her chest, her stomach, her thighs.
Bite marks. Bruises.
Memories of Zayne’s mouth.
And beneath that… a symbol.
Faint, almost invisible — just above her navel — a curved mark she’d never noticed before. It wasn’t a scar. It pulsed softly, shaped like a crescent moon woven with thorns.
She touched it. And the vision came again.
Not pain.
Not pleasure.
Power.
A woman in chains. A silver dagger. Blood running through the dirt. And wolves kneeling.
She staggered back, breath caught in her throat.
“Zayne!” she called.
He was at the door in seconds, eyes sharp. “What is it?”
She opened the robe again, pointing at the mark. “This. Have you seen this before?”
His eyes narrowed. He reached out, running a single finger across it.
The air in the room went still.
Zayne stepped back like she’d burned him.
“Elara…”
“What?”
He swallowed, for once unsure. “That symbol belongs to the Crescent Line. The royal bloodline that ruled the werewolf kingdoms over a hundred years ago. But they were hunted, slaughtered. Every last heir.”
“Except one,” she whispered.
He nodded, slow and haunted. “You’re not just royalty. You’re the last of your kind.”
Her stomach turned. “How? How could I be something that rare and not know?”
“Someone hid you,” he said grimly. “They must have buried your bloodline, suppressed your wolf, erased your history. To protect you… or to keep you powerless.”
Elara gripped the edge of the sink. “You think my parents knew?”
“I don’t think they were your real parents.”
The words hit her like a blade.
“I need answers,” she breathed. “I need to find out who I really am. Why they hid me. And what this bloodline means.”
Zayne nodded. “Then we go to the Alpha. But we’ll need to move carefully. If the council finds out who you are before we’re ready…”
“What?” she asked.
“They’ll either try to use you…” he met her gaze, voice hardening, “...or kill you.”
Elara didn’t flinch.
For the first time, she understood.
She wasn’t just dying anymore.
She was being reborn.
As a threat.
As a queen.
As a beast.
- Writer
