Chapter 5 - BLOOD MOON SECRETS
1772 Words
The growl echoed through the manor like a warning.
Low. Pain-filled. Almost… feral.
Calla froze in the doorway of her bedroom, pulse thundering. The house was silent except for that sound — deep and primal, reverberating off marble and stone as if the walls themselves shivered.
“Adrian?” she whispered.
No answer.
Another growl — sharper this time, edged with agony — tore through the hallway.
Her breath caught. Instinct warred with reason. The smart thing to do was lock her door, call security, stay put.
But something in that sound twisted inside her chest, tugging at her like an invisible thread. A pull she couldn’t explain.
She stepped into the hallway.
The lights were dim, the corridor long and lined with shadows. The growl came again, closer, pulling her toward the far end of the house.
Her ring vibrated.
Actually vibrated — a pulse against her finger like a heartbeat not her own.
“What is going on…” she murmured.
She followed it.
With every step, the air thickened — warm, charged, like static before a storm. The scent in the corridor changed too: smoke, pine, something wild and potent, like the night air before a forest fire.
The growl turned into a strangled, guttural sound.
She reached the door.
Heavy. Reinforced. With scratch marks carved into the wood.
Something had clawed them. Deep.
Calla’s hand shook as she raised it, resting her palm against the door. Heat radiated from the other side — unnatural, feverish.
“Adrian?” she whispered again.
Her ring pulsed.
The house went still.
Then—
His voice — raw, ragged, barely human — snarled from the other side:
“Calla. Go. Now.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs. “Open the door.”
“No,” he growled. “I’m… not safe.”
“You’re hurt.”
“Not hurt.” His breath heaved like he was fighting himself. “Changing.”
The word echoed inside her.
Changing.
Not a metaphor. Not a mood.
Changing.
“Adrian, let me in.”
“Calla, I swear—” A harsh, guttural sound tore from him. “If you come closer, I won’t— I can’t hold back.”
She swallowed hard. “Hold back from what?”
Silence.
Then:
“From wanting you.”
Her knees weakened.
“But that’s not the danger,” he rasped. “Calla… I am not what you think I am.”
She pressed her forehead to the door. “Then show me.”
A violent crash sounded — wood splintering as something massive struck the inside of the door.
“Calla!” His voice was desperate. “Step away. I’m losing—”
Another crash. A snarl. A sound that did not belong in any human throat.
Calla’s breathing quickened — not just fear, but something else, something her mind couldn’t name.
Her ring burned suddenly — a bright, searing pulse that shot up her arm.
She cried out and grabbed the handle.
The moment her skin touched the metal, something clicked inside the room — a lock releasing even though no one touched it.
The door swung open.
Heat blasted toward her. Heavy. Animal. Dominant.
And Adrian—
No.
Not Adrian.
Not fully.
He was on his knees, shirt torn, muscles trembling under the strain of a body fighting itself. His back heaved with each ragged breath.
His eyes — God, his eyes —
Gold.
Fully, violently gold.
Not human.
His hands dug into the floorboards, nails elongated into claws that splintered wood. Sweat glistened down his spine, steam rising off his skin as if he were burning alive from the inside.
He whipped his head toward her.
“Calla.”
Her name was a snarl. A plea. A warning.
She took a step inside. “Adrian—”
“Stop!” He slammed a clawed hand into the floor, carving deep lines. “You can’t be here. I can smell you — too close — too much—”
He staggered, body contorting, bones shifting beneath his skin. His teeth lengthened, breath snarling between them.
“This is what I am,” he gritted out. “A monster. A curse. A Valenti heir damned by blood.”
She shook her head. “You’re not a monster.”
“You don’t understand—” His body jerked violently. A howl ripped from him, half-man, half-beast, filled with pain and something darker. “When the moon rises… the wolf takes me.”
Calla’s heart broke in a way she didn’t expect. “Then let me help you.”
He roared — not in anger, but fear. Real fear.
“You can’t! The wolf wants to claim you — mark you — take you because you’re—”
He shut his eyes hard as if fighting something inside.
“Because I’m what?” she whispered.
His gaze snapped to hers, golden and wild. “Because you’re Moonblood.”
She froze.
Moonblood.
The word hit her like a lightning strike she didn’t see coming.
“What does that mean?”
“It means your blood calls to me.” His voice cracked. “It means your presence wakes things inside me I’ve kept caged for years.”
Her pulse raced.
He fought to stand. Failed. His body trembled violently.
“No one can calm the beast,” he ground out, “but someone with your bloodline… can reach him.”
The ring pulsed again — matching the rhythm of his shaking body.
Calla stepped closer.
Adrian’s head snapped up, a warning growl rattling through him.
“Calla,” he rasped. “If you touch me right now… I won’t be able to stop.”
“Stop what?”
His voice dropped to something dark, primal.
“From claiming you.”
Her breath stuttered.
His muscles strained, tattoos shifting as if alive, crawling across his skin with each tremor.
He dragged himself backward, claws scraping the floor. “Stay away. I’m begging you. I don’t want to hurt you.”
But she didn’t step back.
She moved closer.
Something deep inside her — ancient, instinctive — whispered that she wasn’t meant to fear him. That she was meant to meet him here, in this impossible place between man and beast.
Her ring glowed faintly.
A soft light.
Silver.
Moonlight.
Adrian’s breath caught as if he felt it.
“What is that?” he growled.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
“Calla—” His voice fractured into a snarl as he grabbed the floorboards like they were the only thing holding him back. “You’re making it worse.”
“Or maybe I’m making it better.”
She reached out.
Adrian roared — the sound shaking the walls — but he didn’t lunge. Didn’t attack.
He stayed on his knees, trembling like a beast chained.
Her hand hovered above his cheek.
“Calla,” he warned, voice shredded. “If you touch me… the wolf will recognize you. As his.”
Her heart pounded.
“I’m not afraid.”
“You should be.”
“I’m not,” she whispered. “Not of you.”
And she touched him.
Her fingertips brushed his cheek — hot, burning, fevered.
Adrian froze.
Every muscle went rigid.
His breathing halted.
Calla felt something surge up her arm — a wild pulse of heat and electricity, as if her blood rushing to meet his through sheer contact.
Adrian’s eyes rolled back, gold flaring so bright it looked molten.
He leaned into her touch — involuntarily, helplessly — a broken sound escaping his chest.
“Calla…” he breathed, and it wasn’t a warning anymore.
It was need.
Raw.
Animal.
Dangerous.
Her thumb stroked his cheekbone, soft but steady.
“Come back,” she whispered.
He shuddered — a full-body tremor — and lowered his head against her stomach, breath scorching her through the fabric of her dress.
His hands — claws still extended — dug into the floor on either side of her legs as if anchoring himself.
She threaded her fingers through his hair, and Adrian let out a sound that shook her to her core — a wounded, yearning growl that wasn’t human, but wasn’t meant to hurt.
Slowly, painfully, his claws began to retract.
His breathing softened.
The gold in his eyes dimmed at the edges.
Her presence was calming him.
Her touch was taming the beast.
“Calla…” he whispered again, voice hoarse, lips brushing her hip in a way that made heat flash through her body.
She swallowed hard.
“Keep looking at me,” she murmured.
He obeyed.
The gold receded just enough for her to see Adrian beneath the animal.
“You’re real,” he whispered. “You’re actually real.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means…” He rose just enough to look her in the eyes, his face inches from hers, breath mingling.
“…you’re the only thing that’s ever pulled me back.”
Her heart twisted.
She should walk away.
She should think.
But she wasn’t thinking.
Her palm cupped his jaw again, and his eyes fluttered like the contact itself was undoing him.
He leaned closer — slowly, reverently — as if she were the only thing he wanted to worship or destroy.
Their lips brushed — barely — a whisper of a promise.
Then he jerked back with a raw, pained growl.
“No,” he gasped. “Not like this. Not tonight.”
“Adrian—”
He stumbled away from her, chest heaving, muscles trembling.
“If I stay near you one more second…” His voice broke. “…I won’t be able to stop myself.”
Her cheeks flushed, pulse racing.
“What would you do?” she whispered.
He met her eyes — and the answer in his gaze was molten, devastating.
“Everything I’ve dreamt of doing since I first saw you.”
Heat slammed through her.
But he forced himself backward, toward the shadows, body shaking again.
“Go, Calla,” he begged. “Please. Before the moon takes me fully.”
Calla hesitated.
Then—
The ring on her finger dimmed.
Her touch was losing effect.
His control was slipping again.
She stepped back.
He exhaled in relief and agony.
“Tomorrow,” he promised, voice trembling. “I’ll tell you everything. Tomorrow… I won’t hide.”
She nodded, though her heart twisted painfully.
As she walked away, she heard one last sound behind her:
A whisper that was half-man, half-wolf.
“My mate…”
She froze.
But when she turned, Adrian was gone.
Lost again to the shadows.
- Writer
