The forest whispered in silver shadows, alive with a scent of damp earth and the rustle of unseen creatures.
Lyra vale moved through it alone, as she always did, because the world taught her there was no place for someone like her. Half blood, Hybrid and an outcast.
Even among supernatural beings, she was a curse. Born of forbidden union. She carried the blood of a wolf and something darker, something that made purebloods sneer every time she graced them with her presence.
Having friends was a luxury she never had the chance to indulged in, a social pariah, avoided even by pathetic humans. Tsk tsk!
She befriended nature, found joy in the natural curves of the forest and the waterfall that pours into the long river basin.
The crackling of dry leaves snapped her attention upward. Someone was there, someone was watching her!.
"You shouldn't be here" his voice cut the stillness like steel "Half blood, you don't belong out here"
Lyra straightened, her hybrid senses flaring, claws digging into the soft earth. "I go where I want" she said low and dangerous.
Stepping out of the shadows like a predator sculptured from darkness its self, broad shoulders, eyes like molten gold and teeth that gleamed even in the pale moonlight. His presence didn't just demand respect it screamed terror.
She crouched low, her senses alert, every nerve pulsing, This was no ordinary hunt. This was him the Ragnar Cross aka the Blackclaw, the alpha of the northern pack, feared by every creature with fangs, wings, that walked, crawled, ran or prowled these woods.
"You've grown bold halfblood" he said, his voice cold as ice
Lyra subconsciously took a few steps back, a cruel smile curved Ragnar's lips and in an instant, he moved faster than she anticipated, a blur of shadow and muscle, the ground trembled under his feet. Lyra leaped barely making it even far before she was tackled to the ground and a massive body toned and heavy, carefully holding her captive.
The moment Ragnar's shadow fell over her, Lyra froze. But it was too late. With a terrifying speed that made her heart stutter, he tackled her to the cold forest floor. Leaves and dirt scattered as his weight pinned her, muscles coiled like a predator about to strike its prey.
"You shouldn't have come out tonight" he growled, eyes glinting with danger under the silver moonlight "it's full moon. You have no idea what you're playing with half blood!"
Lyra grasped, struggling beneath him with every instinct screaming to fight but part of her knew she couldn't put up one even at her full capacity she's still an out match for an alpha on a full moon day like today.
His presence was suffocating. Ragnar didn't just hunt- he owned everything he wants or much worse set his sights on.
Lyra's defiance sparked anyway "I'm not afraid of you" she hissed though her chest and tone betraying her as both heave out with terror.
His hand tightening against her wrist, claws grazing her skin just enough to sting "Bold. Foolish. Insolent, you think you can face me?!" His lips curled in a snarl revealing a predator beneath the man.
But then something stopped him
A scent. Not just any scent, it hit him like a lightning, cutting through the anger, the control, the dominance he wielded over all others. Warm, wild, intoxicating. Her.
Ragnar froze, nostrils flaring, mind spinning, the fury in his eyes softened just slightly, replaced by a pulse of recognition he never felt before. His hand loosened, but his gaze stayed locked on her.
"You…" it came out more of a whisper voice rough almost reverent "….you're mine"
Lyra stares back, fear twisting into confusion. Under the full moon, in the silence of the forest predator and outcast stared at each other, the hunt had come to an end but something far older and deeper had just began.
Lyra used that moment to draft her escape plan as she pushed Ragnar off her with all her strength and bolt out into the darkness of the forest before he could process.
She runned as fast as her legs and super speed could give, heart pounding, lungs burning as the forest swallowed her whole, branches tore at her skin as she run like her life depended on it-because it did. Then cutting through the night it came. A howl, Deep. commanding. Possessive. Ragnar's howl rolled across the land, claiming the forest, the moon and her.
Lyra didn't slow down, but dread curled in her chest as the truth settled in. No matter how fast she ran, the alpha had marked her existence and the hunt was far from over.