Contracts Bride

Chapter 8

Kyle's Perspective

The tribespeople, dressed in their festive best, faces bright with smiles, moved in small groups toward the square. Children clutching colorful balloons darted through the passages, their clear laughter echoing.

The square was already packed. People from various tribes, a mosaic of different attire, stood in a circle around the altar. The bonfire at the center roared, flames licking at the night sky, making the chains of luminous pearls gleam even brighter. The robes of the emissaries shimmered between firelight and cold stone-glow. The clink of silver cups, the laughter of the tribe, the haunting notes of wooden flutes—all tangled together, a throbbing pulse behind my temples. I held a silver cup filled with fruit wine, offering a practiced smile to the Fox Tribe chieftain who approached with congratulations, my fingertips already white-knuckled against the cup's stem. If not for my position as Wolf King, I would have long since retreated from this endless socializing, to inspect the defenses or find a moment of quiet.

As Wolf King, the Moon God's Festival was a necessary spectacle to maintain. From verifying the sacrificial offerings at dawn to receiving emissaries all afternoon, there had been scarcely a moment to breathe. Raynor had caught my eye earlier, signaling all defensive points were quiet for now. But the Blood Wolves' docility was itself alarming. Their chieftain and his inner circle kept to the western edge of the square, their occasional glances shifty, hinting at unspoken schemes, yet giving no concrete cause for challenge. This unnerving stillness was worse than open provocation.

Finally free of the verbose Fox chieftain, I leaned against a pillar near the altar to catch my breath, my gaze sweeping idly over the crowd. Maids in uniform light-blue dresses wove through the guests with trays, their hems whispering against fallen leaves. My eyes drifted aimlessly until they snagged on a slender figure at the edge of the firelight, and inexplicably stopped—Ethan.

She seemed to be gathering dropped pastries, her movements a little clumsy, her right hand tightly clutching a small, indistinct object. Before I could look closer, footsteps carrying a faint, musky scent approached from behind. I didn't need to turn to know it was the Blood Wolf chieftain. He stood holding an ornately carved black clay cup, his face a mask of deliberate humility, his eyes skittering away from mine. The liquid in his cup was a deep brown, emitting a strange, cloying scent of wild fruit and beast blood.

"Chieftain Kyle," he began, his voice unctuous, "your reputation precedes you. To meet you today, your bearing is indeed exceptional." He proffered the cup. "This is my clan's secret brew, 'Blood Moon Wine,' prepared specially for the festival. With this cup, I wish for harmony between the Grey Wolf tribe and all peoples."

My guard shot up instantly. My fingers curled around the cup's rim, unmoving. By tribal law, foreign brews required inspection by an alchemist. But with the square full of guests, his words were a clear challenge—to refuse would insult him and be seen as hostility, potentially escalating tensions on the spot. The Blood Wolf chieftain clearly knew this, his smile growing more "sincere." "Does the Chieftain distrust me? Today is under the Moon God's blessing. How would I dare any mischief?"

Inquisitive glances turned our way. Even the elders looked over. Gritting my teeth, I took the cup—placate him now, settle accounts later. The moment the liquor hit my throat, a burning sensation shot down into my chest, followed by a bizarre, explosive heat spreading through my veins to my limbs. I forced down the discomfort, my lips twisting. "A… unique flavor."

The Blood Wolf chieftain's eyes crinkled with satisfaction. "I'm glad it pleases you." After a few more pleasantries, he retreated with his followers to the western crowd. As he turned, I clearly caught the flash of triumphant malice in his eyes.

A sense of foreboding seized me. I handed the cup to a guard, about to order it sent for immediate analysis, when the heat within me intensified violently, surpassing the bonfire's warmth. My skin flushed an unnatural red. I thought it was just strong liquor, but the next moment, the wolf inside me erupted into frenzy. The pain of my canines lengthening, piercing my gums. My fingernails sharpened and grew, gleaming coldly.

The wine was drugged! I cursed inwardly. Reason screamed at me to find Raynor, to control the situation, but my body felt bound by invisible ropes, my feet moving of their own accord, pulled in one specific direction. A strange power surged from the depths of my bloodline, a primal tugging, dragging my consciousness forward—toward where Ethan had been standing by the fire.

I fought it, teeth grinding, cold sweat beading on my forehead and dripping onto my robes. But my legs were locked on their course, carrying me step by step through the press of bodies. People noticed my state, exclaiming and moving aside. Some tried to approach, to help, but I brushed them off unconsciously, my sharpened nails tearing sleeves unnoticed. My senses were heightened to an unbearable degree. The noise, the scents of wine and smoke, all blurred. All I could hear was my own ragged breathing, the roaring of my heart, and the insistent, screaming pull: "Find her! You must find her!"

I shoved two tribesmen aside, stumbling out of the crowd. The bonfire's heat washed over me, nearly scorching. My gaze, piercing through the dancing flames, locked onto that slender figure again—Ethan, still standing there, seemingly startled by the commotion. She still clutched that small thing, looking toward me, her eyes filled with confusion and fear.

Moonlight broke through the clouds just then, silvering her hair. Her profile, caught between fire and moonlight, was strikingly clear. Her long lashes cast faint shadows, the tip of her nose pink from the heat. In that moment, a wave of inexplicable familiarity slammed into me—like the hazy figure from the moonlit woods years ago, the one who had bandaged my wounds. Warm, distant, compelling me closer.

The moment our eyes met, the internal heat skyrocketed. Yet, the wolf's frenzy found a strange, sudden focus. A faint, clean scent of greenery and herbs carried on the night breeze—not the coolness of salve, nor the sweetness of flowers, but something fresh and alive, like tender grass after rain. It wound its way into my mind, shattering the last vestiges of my control.

Worse, a powerful resonance erupted from the core of my bloodline—the most primitive, irresistible bond of our kind, the soul-deep tremor triggered only upon meeting one's fated mate. In nearly a century of life, among countless she-wolves, I had never felt anything this overwhelming. It was as if she were the destination written in my very blood, the sole presence capable of quelling all my violent.

Reason collapsed. Only primal instinct and that irresistible pull remained. A low, guttural growl tore from my throat, sending nearby tribespeople scattering with cries of alarm. I could no longer restrain myself. I lunged toward Ethan, moving with a speed that stirred the air, and before she could react, my hand closed like a vice around her wrist.

Her wrist was slender, her skin soft and warm. At the touch, the raging heat within me subsided slightly, only to be replaced by an even fiercer possessiveness. Ethan staggered from the sudden force, her tray clattering to the ground, pastries scattering. Her head snapped up, her clear eyes instantly wide with panic and shock, her lips trembling. "Kyle? You… what's wrong?"

Her voice was light, a feather brushing against my strained nerves, yet it only fueled my need to claim. I stared fixedly at her face, the wolf now glaring from my eyes, golden slits glowing eerily in the firelight. A continuous, low warning rumble sounded in my throat, forbidding any resistance. Ethan saw the change in my eyes, her face bleaching of all color. Her whole body trembled uncontrollably, her small form like a terrified fawn in my grasp, her struggles feeble, timid.

"L-Let go… It hurts…" She mustered the courage to pull weakly, her effort pitiful, only making me tighten my grip, my knuckles digging into her flesh. I could feel the frantic pulse in her wrist, gradually synchronizing with the wild beat of my own heart. The fated resonance grew stronger, drowning me completely. I was beyond caring.

I didn't care about the watching guests, the possibly lurking Blood Wolf chieftain, or the long-lost "Moonlight Girl." There was only one thought: take her away. To a place only I could find. Make her completely mine. Let her green scent envelop me, soothe the frenzy and the poison.

Without letting her speak another word, I dragged her by the wrist, turning and sprinting toward the small woods bordering the square. Ethan stumbled behind me, her light blue skirt sweeping over leaves and stones with a rustling sound. Her gasps and faint pleas were torn to shreds by the night wind, drifting brokenly to my ears, but they did nothing to sway my resolve.

The laughter, the shouts, the flute music faded behind us. The darkness of the woods swallowed us. The interlocking branches of ancient trees blocked most of the moonlight, leaving only scattered patches illuminating the fallen leaves underfoot. I pulled her through the dense growth, branches scraping my arms and face, leaving shallow cuts, the pain utterly suppressed by the drug and the possessiveness.

Only the feel of her wrist in my grasp kept me tethered to a shred of basic awareness, preventing me from getting lost in the labyrinth of trees. Ethan's struggles grew weaker, until she was just a passive weight being dragged along. Her small body trembled from the exertion, stray hairs plastered to her pale, damp cheeks. She looked utterly vulnerable, which only sharpened my need.

I could feel her terror, hear her stifled hitches of breath, but the pull in my blood was an unbreakable chain. I couldn't let go. I even found myself greedily inhaling her scent—that clean, green aroma, standing out against the smell of damp decay, acting like a balm, slowly easing the drug's burning agony.

I don't know how long we ran. Only when the sounds of the festival vanished completely, replaced by thick darkness and the rustle of wind in the leaves, did I gradually slow, finally stopping beneath a massive, ancient tree.

I braced myself against the trunk, breathing heavily, my chest heaving. Sweat dripped from my face onto the leaves below. My grip on Ethan's wrist didn't loosen; if anything, a frantic fear made me hold tighter—the terror that if I let go, she would vanish.

Ethan stood rigidly before me, head bowed, shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs. Her tears fell on the back of my hand, a warm sensation that pierced my muddled consciousness for a fleeting second. I glanced down at the vivid red mark encircling her wrist, and a strange pang of panic shot through me. My fingers loosened their grip minutely.

But the drug still coursed through me. The primal possessiveness surged back instantly, devouring that tiny spark of clarity. I can't let go. She is mine. Only mine.

I lifted my other hand to touch her cheek. The moment my fingertips met her warm skin, she flinched violently, her sobs softening into terrified silence, too afraid to pull away. Moonlight filtering through the leaves fell directly on her clenched right hand, vaguely revealing a small object wrapped in red cloth, clutched so tightly it seemed embedded in her palm.

Curiosity flickered, but was swiftly crushed by overwhelming instinct. Right now, I only wanted to be near her, to have her essence surround me completely. I leaned closer, drawing her toward me, my voice a low, hoarse rasp, carrying the wolf's inherent dominance, yet hiding a thread of undeniable dependence. "Don't move… Stay here…"

Ethan's body went utterly still. Her crying ceased, leaving only faint, hitching breaths. She stood obediently, even her breathing softened, as if afraid to anger me. I stared at the crown of her head, greedily drinking in her scent. The internal heat gradually cooled a little, but the fated resonance grew ever clearer, echoing endlessly in my veins.

Leaning against the ancient tree, I let my hand slide down from her wrist, intertwining my fingers with hers, holding on tight, unwilling to release.

Reason remained a distant blur, yet I knew with absolute certainty: from the moment our fingers linked and our souls resonated, she had become the most singular presence in my life.

The festival's clamor was far away now. The moonlight remained gentle, the night breeze cool. I held Ethan's hand, feeling her warmth and her heartbeat. The drug's influence still simmered within me, but the frenzy was gone. Perhaps the Blood Wolf plot was still unfolding. Perhaps chaos reigned in the square. Perhaps I should return immediately and take charge.

But for now, I just wanted to stand here, holding her hand, immersed in her scent, and for a little while, forget all the noise and the schemes.