x
The night had deepened.
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Andi’s old Jeep creaked as it came to a stop near the edge of the woods. They were far from the school now, far from the crowd and far from the watchful eyes of her family. The only light came from the sliver of moon peeking through the drifting clouds. The air was thick with humidity and scent damp leaves, wildflowers, and something deeper, more feral.
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Lyra’s skin felt hot to the touch. Her breathing was shallow. Something inside her pulsed, throbbed urging her forward, to claim, to devour.
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Andi leaned over, brushing a kiss against her neck. “God, you feel electric tonight.”
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She didn’t respond with words. She kissed him deep and desperate. Her hands clutched his shirt, pulling him close. His body was warm, willing, but even as their lips locked, something in her recoiled. His touch was eager… but thin. His scent sweet… but not satisfying. She wanted more. Needed more.
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She wanted strength. Depth. Dominance.
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Andi wasn’t it.
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Her eyes opened mid-kiss, glowing faintly golden.
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“Lyra…?”
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But she was already pulling away, her breath ragged. “I’m sorry.”
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“What’s wrong?”
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“I” She clutched her chest. Her pulse raced. Her skin itched. Her bones felt like they were bending beneath her. “I need to go.”
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She flung the door open and stumbled out into the woods.
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“Lyra! Wait!”
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She ran.
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Faster than she ever had. The wind sliced past her face, her feet barely touching the ground. Her nails were longer now. Her breathing shallow, but rhythmic. Her body was changing, not entirely into the beast her parents feared, but into something in between. A creature in heat. A female predator.
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Her instincts dragged her toward the scent. It wasn’t Andi. It wasn’t random. It was something familiar, comforting... Jhon.
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He lived a few blocks past the school, alone in the cottage his grandfather left him. Quiet, rugged, older by a few years. Jhon had always looked at Lyra like she was something untouchable but she had seen the way his gaze lingered. The pulse in his neck quicken. The hesitation in his voice.
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He wanted her. Always had.
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And tonight... he would have her.
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By the time she reached his door, her dress was half torn, her breathing harsh, hair damp with sweat and rain. She didn’t knock. She crashed through it, her eyes wild, her body trembling with lust and change.
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Jhon stepped into view, shirtless, holding a mug of tea eyes wide.
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“Lyra?”
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Her lips were on his before the question finished. Her kiss was hunger and fire. He didn’t pull away. He knew. He had always known something about her was different. And still, he welcomed it.
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She tore the mug from his hand, letting it crash to the floor, then shoved him backward until he hit the couch. She straddled him in one fluid motion, her thighs gripping his hips, her fingers in his hair.
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“You’ve wanted me,” she growled against his throat. “I could smell it.”
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Jhon swallowed, his voice low and hoarse. “I still do.”
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He didn’t ask what she was. He didn’t tremble. He touched her the way no boy ever had without fear. His hands explored her body with reverence and craving. When his fingers brushed her spine, she arched like a bow, moaning deep in her throat. Her nails dragged down his chest, leaving red trails.
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Her fangs brushed his shoulder, but she didn’t bite not yet.
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They shed clothes in between gasps and growls. Skin against skin. Every inch of her burned for him. His body was strong, but more than that he yielded, not out of fear, but out of desire.
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When he entered her, she cried out not in pain, but release. Her back arched, her body convulsed. It was as though the beast inside her paused, stunned by the perfect union of power and surrender.
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Their rhythm was wild. Her hips moved with primal force, but every time she looked into his eyes, she saw not terror but awe. Admiration. Love.
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His fingers gripped her thighs, holding her as though anchoring her to the world. She howled once, loud enough to shake the windows. Her transformation surged to the edge of the surface her eyes gold, her teeth sharp but she held it back.
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Because she didn’t want to scare him.
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But Jhon cupped her face, kissed her lips, then her forehead, and whispered, “You don’t have to hide.”
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Her chest trembled.
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“I know what you are,” he said. “And I’m not afraid.”
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She broke then not from lust, but from something deeper. She kissed him softer now. Her hands gentler. Their pace slowed, deeper, fuller no longer just wild, but intimate. Sacred.
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They moved together like nature itself storm and earth, wind and flame.
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When she finally came undone, she cried out his name like a sacred word. He followed soon after, his arms wrapped tight around her body.
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They collapsed against each other, sweat-drenched and gasping. Her heart pounded against his chest. The clouds outside parted, and the full moon bathed them in silver light through the broken door.
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Her skin shimmered faintly.
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He looked up at her, brushed a strand of damp hair from her cheek, and smiled. “You’re beautiful.”
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“You’re crazy,” she whispered. “I’m a... monster.”
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“You’re mine,” he said, without hesitation. “If you’ll have me.”
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Tears welled in her eyes not from weakness, but from belonging.
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“I will,” she said softly. “But I’m not human. I’ll change. Every full moon, I’ll crave... blood. Hunger. Sex. Power.”
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“Then I’ll be there. Every time,” he said, pulling her close. “Let me be your anchor. Let me be your alpha.”
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And with those words, the beast inside Lyra purred.
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For the first time in her life, she wasn’t at war with herself. She was whole.
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And under the Blood Moon, she chose her mate not the one chosen for her, not one offered out of fear, but one who saw her... and stayed.
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