BOUND BY BLOOD AND MOONLIGHT

The moon was high, silver and watching, as if it too disapproved of what Celyn Nightfang was about to do.

She stood at the edge of the forest, her heart pounding louder than the rustling leaves. One step. Just one step, and she'd be trespassing into Silverclaw territory, the land of her enemies. The wolves who would tear her apart on sight.

But fear had never ruled her. And tonight, neither would loyalty.

"You're insane, Celyn," murmured her best friend Elara, who stood behind her, arms crossed. "If your father finds out-"

"He won't," Celyn said, her voice low. Firm. "And if he does, I'll deal with it."

Celyn pulled up her hood, dark as midnight, and slipped into the trees.

The air changed immediately. Colder. Sharper. The kind of silence that weighed on your skin like warning. Every branch creaked like a whispered threat. Every step forward felt like threading the edge of a knife.

But she kept walking, deeper into enemy lands.

She didn't know what she was looking for. Maybe it was proof that the Silverclaws were monsters, like her father claimed. Maybe it was proof they weren't. Or maybe it was just the thrill. The rebellion. The need to do something that made her feel alive.

Then she heard a crack behind her. Not from her.

Celyn froze.

Another step. Close. Measured.

She turned sharply. "Who's there?"

Silence.

She crouched, hands flexed. Her wolf stirred beneath her skin, ready to rise, to shift, to fight

And then a figure stepped out from the shadows.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, cloaked in black. Dark hair fell just above his silver eyes, and those eyes locked on her like blades sharp, assessing, furious.

"Nightfang," he said coldly.

Celyn's blood went ice.

Lucas Silverclaw.

The heir of the rival pack. The one her father called a killer. The one whispered about in campfire stories ruthless, unmerciful, and dead-eyed in battle.

Of all wolves, why him?

"Looks like the Nightfang Alpha's brat likes to play dangerous games," Lucas said, stepping closer. His voice was low, velvety, lethal.

She lifted her chin. "And the Silverclaw Alpha's pet likes to stalk little girls in the woods?"

A flicker crossed his face amusement, maybe. Surprise. Then it was gone, replaced with stone.

"You're trespassing," he said. "Do you want to die?"

"I'm not scared of you."

"You should be."

Something shifted in the air.

A strange tension pulled between them electric, magnetic, foreign. It made Celyn's breath catch. She met his gaze and couldn't look away.

Her wolf... stirred.

His eyes narrowed. "Do you feel that?"

Celyn did. A pulse deep in her chest. Something primal. Ancient.

The bond.

No. No. No.

Not him.

Not the enemy.

"This is wrong," she whispered, more to herself than him.

Lucas stared at her, as if seeing her for the first time. As if he wasn't sure whether to kill her or

"Go," he said, voice suddenly tight. "Before I change my mind."

"I don't take orders from you."

"Then take it as a warning."

They stood there, still. Breathing the same sharp air. Tied by something neither asked for.

Finally, she stepped back. "This never happened."

His gaze didn't waver. "It did. And it's not over."

She turned and ran.

Back through the woods. Back across the invisible line between their worlds.

But nothing felt the same.

Celyn didn't sleep that night.

Not because of fear but because of that pull. That connection. That bond. The kind she'd only heard about in stories. The kind that bound soul to soul. Heart to heart.

Mate bonds were sacred. Rare. And unbreakable.

But not supposed to happen between enemies.