Chapter 6: The Bond
991 Words
Luna Callahan POV
The mark on my wrist was burning again.
Not warm. Not tingling.
Burning.
The silver crescent curled beneath my skin like a living thing, and the new outline of the wolf—faint but there—seemed to shimmer with every erratic beat of my heart. I pressed my palm over it, trying to steady my breath, trying to steady myself.
But nothing was working.
The market still buzzed behind me. Whispers, questions, footsteps. Everyone had seen it—whatever that energy blast was. They’d seen him, too. The man with golden eyes.
Asher.
I didn’t know his name yet, not officially. But deep in my bones, I knew that was who he was. The man who had pulled me from the snow. The one who’d vanished like a phantom.
And the one whose presence cracked something inside me open.
I tried to take a step away from the edge of the trees, back toward the square, but my knees buckled.
The world tilted.
Sounds warped. The trees swayed like I was underwater. My hands reached out instinctively, but nothing caught me.
And then—blackness.
I didn’t remember falling.
Only that when I opened my eyes, I wasn’t on the cold ground.
I was in someone’s arms.
Strong. Steady. Warm.
His scent hit me first—pine, smoke, and something darker. A storm waiting to break. My face was tucked against his chest, my body cradled like I weighed nothing. And through the blur of my lashes, I saw golden light.
No. Not light.
Eyes.
I gasped.
His arms tightened just slightly. “Easy,” he murmured.
His voice wasn’t soft. It was rough—like gravel wrapped in silk. But there was something protective about it. Something that pulled me closer even though every part of my mind screamed that none of this made sense.
We were moving.
He was carrying me—through the crowd, I realized. I could hear gasps, the shuffle of people stepping back. A child whispered, “Is she hurt?” A man muttered, “Is that the guy from earlier?”
I wanted to speak, to move, but my body felt disconnected from my thoughts. Like I was drifting just outside myself, watching it all through fogged glass.
And yet… I wasn’t afraid.
I should’ve been.
But I wasn’t.
My heartbeat slowed as I stared up at him—at his sharp jaw, the thick lashes that framed those unearthly eyes, the way his lips were pressed into a line of restraint.
He looked like he was fighting something.
And then he looked down.
Straight into me.
And whatever was between us snapped tight.
It wasn't an attraction. It wasn’t fear. It wasn't a curiosity.
It was a bond.
Like a tether that had always existed—but only now pulled taut.
I felt it hum in my bones.
I felt it in my breath.
And I saw it reflected in the way his gaze softened for half a second—just a flicker—but enough.
“I don’t understand,” I managed, my voice barely a whisper.
His jaw clenched. “You’re not supposed to yet.”
“Who are you?”
He didn’t answer.
He just kept walking—faster now, away from the crowd, down one of the winding alleys near the edge of the square. I recognized it faintly—an older part of town where the buildings leaned together and ivy crawled up every brick wall.
“Put me down,” I said, with more strength this time.
He stopped.
Slowly—carefully—he lowered me to the ground, his arms lingering just a second longer than necessary. My legs were shaky, but I stood. Barely.
We faced each other in the shadow of the alley.
Silence.
The wind curled between us, lifting strands of my hair. His golden eyes were lit from within, like they held a second sun.
“You feel it too,” I whispered.
He didn’t deny it.
Instead, he stepped closer.
And I didn’t move away.
“Who are you?” I asked again.
He hesitated—his hands flexing at his sides like he was holding something back.
Then: “Asher.”
The name hit me like thunder cracking a still sky.
My breath caught.
“Asher Blackthorn,” he added, voice lower now. Rougher. “Alpha of the Crescent Ridge Pack.”
Alpha.
The word meant something. More than just a title.
A truth.
“You’re a werewolf,” I said. Not a question. A statement.
His eyes darkened. “And you’re more than you know, Luna.”
My name on his lips was a spark. A key in a lock I hadn’t known existed. I shivered—but not from the cold.
“I saw you in the forest,” I said. “You saved me.”
He nodded once.
“I saw you in my dreams.”
That made him pause.
“I dreamt of wolves. Fire. A black wolf with silver eyes. I heard voices—mine. Yours.”
He studied me for a long, tense moment. Then slowly, like he was afraid to touch me again, he reached out and brushed his fingers across my wrist.
Right where the mark burned beneath my sleeve.
The air shimmered.
I sucked in a sharp breath as the bond flared between us again—hot, electric, undeniable.
“You bear the mark,” he murmured. “Just like the prophecy said.”
“What prophecy?” My voice trembled. “What’s happening to me?”
Asher looked like he was at war with himself.
Then he leaned in.
His mouth was near my ear now—his breath warm and laced with something ancient.
“You’re mine,” he whispered. “You always were.”
A pause.
Then one word.
One devastating word that shattered the space between us and changed everything.
“Mate.”
- Writer
