Little Luna: ECLIPSE-BOUND

Chapter 3

“Move faster, defect,” growled one of the guards, shoving her forward. His claws pricked her shoulder, drawing a thin line of blood. Liora bit back a whimper. The pain was familiar, almost grounding. But tonight felt different. The air crackled with lunar energy, and deep within her chest, something ancient stirred—a shadow not born of fear, but of hunger.

The central clearing opened before her like the maw of a beast. Bonfires roared at its edges, casting dancing orange light across hundreds of pack members. Warriors feasted on roasted venison and blood wine, their laughter coarse and triumphant. She-wolves in revealing silks draped themselves over laps, claws tracing scars earned in battle. In the center stood the obsidian throne, carved from volcanic rock and inlaid with the bones of fallen enemies.

Alpha Thorne Blackwood occupied it like a king of darkness. At twenty-nine, he was the embodiment of lethal power—six-foot-five of corded muscle, jet-black hair cropped short, and piercing amber eyes that missed nothing. Scars from rogue wars and internal challenges crisscrossed his forearms and peeked from the open collar of his black tunic. His presence alone commanded submission; his wolf was said to be one of the largest and most vicious in the region.

Beside him lounged Luciana Hart, a voluptuous warrior she-wolf with raven hair and emerald eyes. She wore a dress of deep crimson that barely contained her curves, her hand possessively stroking Thorne’s thigh.

Liora kept her gaze lowered as she was pushed into the serving line. Trays of wine and meat weighed heavy in her arms. The bond of servitude was her only role. Little Luna, they called her in mockery. A tiny, wolfless omega who should have died in the dungeons long ago.

She moved among the crowd, refilling goblets with steady hands despite the dread coiling in her gut. The full moon bathed everything in silvery light, making the shadows at the edges of her vision dance more boldly. Whispers followed her: “Pathetic defect.” “Why does the goddess let such weakness live?”

Then it happened.

As she approached the dais to refill Thorne’s goblet, their eyes met for the briefest second. A golden thread of light exploded into existence between them, visible to the entire gathering. Heat surged through Liora’s veins like liquid fire. Her heart slammed against her ribs. The world narrowed to the Alpha on his throne. Every nerve ending sang with recognition, longing, and raw power.

Mate.

The word thundered in her soul, ancient and undeniable.

Gasps erupted across the clearing. Luciana’s hand froze on Thorne’s leg. Warriors dropped their tankards. Elders, seated in a semi-circle of carved wooden chairs to the right of the throne, rose as one.

Thorne shot to his feet, his goblet shattering on the ground. His amber eyes widened in shock, then narrowed into slits of fury. “What sorcery is this?” His voice boomed, carrying the alpha command that made lesser wolves tremble.

Liora staggered back a step, the tray clattering from her hands. Wine spilled across the grass like blood. The bond pulsed between them—strong, insistent, pulling her toward him even as terror clawed at her throat. She could feel his wolf reaching for hers, only to recoil at the strange, shadowed presence inside her.

Elder Magnus, the oldest and most respected, stepped forward. His silver robes shimmered under the moonlight, staff tapping the ground. “The goddess has spoken clearly, Alpha Thorne. This is no sorcery. Liora Voss is your fated mate. The mate bond has manifested publicly before witnesses. Our sacred laws are absolute: no wolf of the Eclipse Pack may reject their true mate. To do so invites the curse of the Moon Goddess—barrenness, madness, or the fracturing of the pack bond itself.”

Murmurs swelled into shouts. Luciana lunged forward with a snarl, claws extended. “This weakling? This wolfless w***e who scrubs floors? She cannot be Luna!”

Thorne raised a hand, silencing the chaos with a single gesture. His gaze raked over Liora—taking in her delicate frame, the bruises visible on her arms, the way she barely reached his chest. Disgust warred with the possessive hunger the bond forced upon him.

Liora lifted her chin, violet eyes meeting his despite the fear. The shadows within her whispered approval, feeding on the volatile energy. For the first time, she felt a sliver of strength—not her own, but siphoned from the newly formed connection.

“The law stands,” Elder Magnus continued, his voice grave. “The bond must be honored. You may not cast her aside, Alpha.”

Thorne’s jaw clenched so tightly Liora heard the grind of teeth. He descended the steps of the dais slowly, each movement predatory. The crowd parted. He stopped inches from her, towering over her small form. His scent—sandalwood, smoke, and raw male power—enveloped her, making the bond throb painfully.

“You,” he growled low enough for only her to hear, though the entire pack strained to listen. “The pack’s broken little toy is my mate? The goddess tests me.”

Liora’s voice emerged steadier than she felt. “I did not ask for this either, Alpha.”

His large hand shot out, gripping her chin and forcing her face up. The contact sent sparks racing down her spine. Desire, unwanted and fierce, flooded her despite the humiliation. Thorne’s nostrils flared; he felt it too.

Later that night, after the gathering devolved into tense feasting and whispered plots, Thorne had her brought to his private study. The room was a monument to conquest: maps of conquered territories pinned to walls, weapons displayed on racks, and a massive oak desk stained with old blood.

Liora stood before him, wrists bound lightly with silver chains that burned her skin. Thorne paced like a caged beast, shirt discarded, displaying the full expanse of his scarred, muscled torso.

“The elders and law bind my hands,” he said finally, voice dripping with contempt. “I cannot reject you outright. But hear me well, Little Luna.” He spat the title like poison. “You will never be my Luna. Luciana holds that role—she is strong, a warrior worthy of standing at my side. You…” His eyes traveled down her body with clinical disdain. “You will serve one purpose: bearing my heirs. Strong pups to secure my bloodline. Your body is mine for that alone. In return, you live. Refuse, and I will make the dungeons feel like mercy.”

The words landed like whips. Liora’s chest ached with the fresh bond’s pain, but something darker uncoiled inside her—the Eclipse Shadow Curse her mother had warned about. It fed on betrayal, on imbalance. Already, Thorne’s casual cruelty weakened the golden thread between them, turning parts of it ashen.

She thought of her parents’ executions. Of endless beatings. Of nights spent listening to Thorne rutting with Silvera through the walls.

“No,” Liora whispered.

Thorne stilled. “What did you say?”

“I reject your proposal, Alpha Thorne.” Her voice gained strength, shadows flickering at the edges of her vision. “I am no broodmare. The goddess chose me as your mate, not your slave. If the law binds you, it binds us both. I will not submit to this degradation.”

Rage transformed his handsome face into something demonic. He crossed the room in two strides, slamming her against the stone wall. The impact drove the breath from her lungs. His body pinned hers, hard and unyielding. One massive hand tore at the neckline of her shift, ripping fabric and exposing the curve of her breast.

“You dare defy me?” he snarled, mouth descending on hers in a brutal, claiming kiss. His tongue forced entry, teeth nipping her lower lip until it bled. The bond flared wildly, mixing pain with unwanted arousal. Liora felt his hardness pressing against her thigh, evidence of the mate pull fighting his contempt.

She struggled, nails raking his chest, drawing blood. Thorne groaned—part pleasure, part fury—and shoved a hand between her legs, fingers probing roughly.

The curse surged.

In that moment of violation, Liora’s fingers found the hidden dagger. She drove it upward into his side, just below the ribs. The wolfsbane-and-shadow-infused blade sank in with sickening ease. Shadows erupted from the wound, coiling like living smoke around Thorne’s torso.

He roared in agony, staggering back. Black veins spread from the injury, siphoning a visible pulse of his alpha strength into her. Liora gasped as power flooded her veins—temporary, intoxicating. Her small frame straightened, eyes glowing faintly violet.

“You b***h!” Thorne clutched the wound, blood dripping between his fingers. The bond between them twisted, faint and pained but unbroken. No rejection words had been spoken. The tether remained, now poisoned by his betrayal and her defiance.

Alarms howled through the pack house. Footsteps thundered. Liora didn’t wait. She bolted for the window, shattering glass with a chair, and leaped into the night.

Branches whipped her face as she sprinted into the forbidden forest. Behind her, Thorne’s furious howl split the air: “Find her! Bring the Little Luna back alive!”

The mate bond pulled at her chest like a chain, faint yet insistent. Even as she ran, she felt echoes of his pain, his rage—and worse, the distant sounds of him seeking release with another she-wolf to drown the bond’s torment. Each infidelity weakened it further, feeding her curse.

Liora ran until her lungs burned, shadows cloaking her path. The Eclipse Shadow Curse whispered promises of vengeance and a darker destiny.

Far to the north, in the rival Shadowveil territories, a hybrid alpha lifted his head to the moon. Riven Nightshade—part lycan, part demon—felt a strange pull on his ancient blood. His crimson eyes narrowed, demonic horns subtly shifting beneath his dark hair. Something precious had entered his domain.

The hunt had only begun.