They called it the Night of the Hunt
the one night every year when the Moon chose who belonged to whom.
Some prayed for their mates.
Some prayed not to be chosen at all.
I was one of the latter.
Because every dream I'd ever had ended the same way
in a forest of silver light, a hand around my throat,
and eyes the color of blood whispering,
"Mine."
When the drums began that night, I thought it was only the Gathering.
I didn't know it was the beginning of my undoing.
Or that the monster the Goddess would give me
was the very Alpha who had sworn to destroy my family.