The moon hung full and heavy over the Kingdom of Valcaryn, casting a silver glow over the dark woods that bordered the forbidden lands. Trees whispered secrets to the wind, and somewhere far in the distance, a lone wolf howled—long, deep, and broken.
Seraphina crouched low among the shadows, her blade still dripping with the blood of the two border guards she'd silently taken down. She didn't enjoy killing—not anymore—but she'd learned long ago that mercy was a luxury women like her couldn't afford.
She pushed her hood further over her brow and moved forward, her leather boots silent on the forest floor. She was almost past the kingdom's magical perimeter, the one that separated the outer lands from the royal wolves and their so-called "blessed bloodline."
Blessed. What a lie.
There was nothing blessed about the wolves of Valcaryn. Nothing holy about the crown that had destroyed her family, branded her bloodline cursed, and sent her running at just sixteen.
Now twenty-three, Seraphina had become the nightmare they whispered about. A rogue. A rebel. A threat.
And tonight… she had crossed back into the kingdom for one reason only—vengeance.
A twig snapped behind her.
Her instincts screamed. She spun around, blade raised, eyes flashing molten amber in the moonlight. But what she saw stopped her heart.
He stood there, half-shadow, half-silver light. A towering male figure, cloaked in black, with a hood pulled low over his face. But she could feel it. The power. The presence.
An Alpha.
And not just any Alpha.
His scent—raw pine and burning firewood—hit her like a punch to the gut. It awakened something deep in her, something primal… forbidden.
"You're trespassing," the stranger growled, voice low, deadly, laced with an ancient kind of rage.
Seraphina didn't flinch. "So are you."
The silence between them crackled like lightning. Then he took a step forward, and for the first time, the moonlight touched his face.
Sharp jaw. Full lips. Eyes like silver storms.
Seraphina's breath caught. He was beautiful in a way that promised ruin.
"You're not just a rogue," he said, his voice unreadable. "You're her. Seraphina Nightshade."
She stiffened. "And you are?"
"Someone you shouldn't have crossed."
A flicker of warning passed through her. She stepped back, gripping her blade tighter. "I'm not afraid of you."
"Liar," he said, stepping closer still. "Your heart's racing."
He was right. Her heart was pounding, but not from fear. From something darker… hotter.
She hated him for it.
"Back off," she hissed.
"Make me," he said.
That was it. She lunged.
But he was faster. Too fast.
In a flash, he dodged her strike and caught her wrist mid-air, spinning her so her back slammed against a tree. Her blade clattered to the ground. He didn't press into her. He didn't need to. His presence alone pinned her still.
His scent invaded her senses again. Her skin burned where he touched her.
"What do you want?" she snarled.
"I should ask you the same. You're not here by accident."
"I go where I want," she spat.
He leaned in close, lips brushing the edge of her ear. "You're playing a dangerous game, Seraphina."
"And you think I'm afraid to lose?"
Their eyes locked—silver crashing into gold. Something ancient stirred between them. Something neither of them could explain.
He released her and stepped back.
"I should kill you," he said flatly.
"Then do it."
He didn't move.
"Exactly," she sneered. "All bark, no bite."
His lips curved in the faintest smirk. "Oh, I bite. You just wouldn't survive it."
Then he vanished.
One blink, and he was gone. No sound. No scent. No trace.
Seraphina stared at the empty woods, her chest heaving. Who the hell was he?
She retrieved her blade and turned to leave—but not before she felt it. Deep in her chest. A strange heat, a pull she didn't understand.
No… she couldn't be—
"Mates," she whispered in horror.