Bound by Moonlight

Episode 1: Not His Sister The first time Kael Draven saw me in a towel, he dropped a fifty-pound dumbbell on his foot. “Moon’s bleeding hell!” he shouted, hopping on one leg like a very angry, very shirtless kangaroo. “Put some damn clothes on, Selene!” I stood frozen in the doorway, towel tucked beneath my arms, dripping on the hardwood. “I live here too, Kael. It's called a bathroom. People use it. They get wet. Shocking, I know.” “You could’ve knocked!” “You’re the one bench-pressing testosterone in the living room at 7 A.M. You knock.” He grumbled something about "girls with no decency" and hobbled toward the kitchen, still cradling his foot. I caught a glimpse of the scratch on his lower abdomen as he moved, and for a moment—just a flicker—I forgot to breathe. That’s when the problem started. Not the towel. Not the foot. Not even the bench press in the middle of the living room like some kind of flex shrine. No. The problem was that Kael Draven, Alpha heir of Stormveil, was not my brother. And every cell in my body was starting to remember that. --- It had been thirteen years since the Alpha took me in. I was six, orphaned, covered in ash and blood from a rogue attack that destroyed my birth pack. They raised me in their home, fed me, taught me how to shift, how to survive. They treated me like one of their own—except for the part where I was very obviously not. Especially to Kael. He’d grown up beside me, trained with me, fought for me. But lately… he’d been avoiding me like the plague. Ever since I turned nineteen last week, he’d barely said two words unless it was to criticize how loudly I walked. Tonight, I planned to fix that. --- The Alpha’s house was abuzz with energy. Pack meetings were rare unless something big was happening. Like territory shifts. Or rogue sightings. Or the moon being in a very bad mood. I wore a simple black dress and combat boots—because I was a lady, not a pushover—and took my place near the back, beside the Beta’s daughter, Marcy. She leaned over and whispered, “Kael’s staring at you again.” I didn’t look. “He’s probably trying to burn holes through my skull with his judgment.” “No, honey. That’s not judgment. That’s… undressing.” I turned my head slowly. Sure enough, Kael stood across the room, tall and broad-shouldered, arms crossed, gaze locked on me like he was debating war. My heart did a dumb little thud. The meeting ended in ten minutes. I didn’t hear a word of it. --- Later that night, I found him on the roof. It was our place once—before everything got weird. We'd sit up there during storms and bet how many lightning strikes it would take before one of the older wolves panicked and herded us inside. Now, he was staring at the moon, brooding like it owed him money. “You’re avoiding me,” I said, climbing up beside him. “I’m protecting you,” he said without looking. “That’s funny. Looks more like hiding.” He tensed. “You don’t understand.” “Then make me understand, Kael.” My voice dropped. “Why do you look at me like I’m the enemy?” His jaw clenched. I saw the vein twitch in his neck. “You’re not the enemy,” he said roughly. “You’re the threat.” And then suddenly—stars, it was sudden—he turned to me, eyes glowing gold with the heat of his wolf, and backed me up until I was pressed against the chimney wall. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, Selene.” “Then explain it,” I whispered. His hands landed on either side of my head, his breath warm and ragged against my skin. “You smell like moonfire. Every time you’re near, my wolf howls. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I wake up sweating with your name on my lips.” I stared at him, heart pounding so loud I swore the entire pack could hear it. “I thought we were family,” I said, breathless. “We’re not,” he growled, voice thick. “Not by blood. Not by anything that would make this wrong—except every memory we share.” He leaned in. Our noses brushed. My eyes fluttered shut. Then— A knock echoed from below. “Kael?” someone called. “Your dad wants you downstairs.” We froze. Inches apart. Kael’s voice was strained. “Go, Selene. Now.” I slipped past him, heart on fire, knees weak, trying not to cry or laugh or collapse on the shingles. This wasn’t love. This was a spark lit in a dry forest. And it had just been set on fire.