Chapter 1 — The Blood Moon Celebration

Alessandra

The moon hung heavy in the ink-black sky, its crimson hue casting a haunting glow over the forest clearing. Alessandra tugged at the sleeves of her leather jacket, wishing she could pull it tighter around herself. The annual Blood Moon celebration was always an elaborate performance, saturated with ritual and tradition she wanted no part of. Tonight, it was worse. It wasn’t just her 18th birthday—it was her coming-of-age. The pack’s expectations weighed on her like iron shackles, tightening with every whispered glance from the elders.

The clearing teemed with life, a living tapestry of her pack’s culture. Laughter and chatter wove into the crackle of the towering bonfire at its center. The air was thick with the earthy aroma of roasting meat and burning sage, mingling with the sweetness of moonflowers placed at the edges of the clearing. Pack members danced to the rhythm of a drumbeat, their movements fluid and primal. It was meant to be a night of celebration and unity, but to Alessandra, the weight of tradition made it suffocating.

Her amber eyes flicked to the stone circle where the elders sat. They loomed like ancient sentinels, their expressions unreadable as they observed the festivities. Just beyond them, her twin sister, Isabel, basked in the crowd's adoration, her bright red dress and glinting jewelry catching the firelight. She laughed—sharp, crystalline, and purposeful—commanding attention as effortlessly as the moon commanded the tides. Alessandra's chest tightened. Isabel had always thrived under the pack’s gaze, while she preferred to melt into the shadows.

*You could at least try to look like you’re enjoying yourself,* Leya teased, her voice a warm hum in the back of Alessandra’s mind.

*It is your birthday, after all.*

*Oh, thank you, Leya,* Alessandra replied dryly. *I nearly forgot.*

*You’re impossible,* Leya said, her tone turning playful. *You know, the pack isn’t the enemy. That glaring doesn’t exactly scream "celebration."*

Alessandra rolled her eyes, leaning against one of the ancient oaks that bordered the clearing. She tilted her head slightly, catching a faint, sharp scent on the wind. It was there for only a moment, like a whisper, before disappearing. Her wolf instincts prickled uneasily, but the moment passed before she could pin it down. *Tell that to them,* she thought, returning her gaze to Isabel, whose laughter rang out again, like a bell tolling for Alessandra's patience. *If I hear one more person tell me what an honor it is to come of age during a Blood Moon, I’m going to shift just to scare them off.*

*And miss the chance to dance under the big, red spotlight? Tragic.*

A reluctant smirk tugged at the corner of Alessandra’s mouth. Leya always knew how to get under her skin just enough to distract her. But the moment passed quickly, her thoughts drifting back to the bonfire’s flames licking hungrily at the night sky. A ritual of unity, the elders called it. A reminder of the Blood Moon Pact, the stories of which had been drilled into her since childhood. Inwardly, she scoffed. Unity. She caught a glimpse of the Blood Moon Dagger displayed on a ceremonial stand near the elders. Its crimson blade shimmered faintly under the moonlight, a silent symbol of leadership and loyalty. Alessandra turned away, the sight only deepening her frustration. And now, here she was—meant to step into her role as a “proper” beta, destined to support a future alpha chosen by fate.

The thought made her stomach churn. She pushed off the tree and started weaving through the crowd, aiming for the tables laden with food. Anything to keep her hands busy and avoid the endless parade of watchful eyes. The buzz of the celebration faded as she walked, her surroundings blurring into an indistinct haze of sound and light.

That’s when it happened.

A wave of heat rolled over her like a firestorm, an electric pulse crackling through her veins. She staggered, her breath catching as the world shifted. Every sound dulled, every scent faded, every face in the crowd dissolved into nothing.

And then her amber eyes locked onto his.

Dane De Luca.

He stood on the far side of the bonfire, his broad shoulders and sharp features illuminated by its sinister red glow. His raven-black hair gleamed faintly, and his icy blue eyes bore into hers with a force that made her knees weak. It wasn’t just shock or attraction—it was something primal, deeper, more visceral. The mate bond snapped into place with an almost audible resonance, like a cord tightening between them.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, her breath shallow and uneven. Heat flushed her skin, and her wolf instincts surged to the surface, clawing at her resistance. Every fiber of her being screamed to move closer to him, to close the distance, but her mind recoiled, rejecting the overwhelming pull.

“No,” she whispered, the word a cracked echo of her disbelief. Her fists clenched as she forced herself to breathe, but her legs trembled beneath her.

Dane’s expression didn’t shift, but his posture stiffened. His hands curled into tight fists at his sides, and his jaw tightened as if he were physically restraining himself. For a moment, the air between them shimmered with tension, a live wire sparking and burning just under the surface. Something flickered in his eyes—anger? Resentment? Or was it fear? It was gone too quickly to decipher.

Then, a sound shattered the moment.

The panicked howl ripped through the clearing, sharp and urgent. Alessandra’s senses snapped into focus. The smell hit her like a punch—blood, raw and metallic, laced with the musky tang of rogues.

“Rogues!” someone shouted, and the clearing erupted into chaos. Wolves shifted mid-run, their bodies bursting into fur and fangs as pack members scrambled to defend the borders. The elders barked orders, their commanding voices barely audible over the growing cacophony.

Alessandra didn’t hesitate. She kicked off her boots and shrugged off her jacket, letting Leya surge forward. Her body twisted and broke apart, reshaping itself into sleek, dark fur and glowing amber eyes. The transformation was seamless, her wolf’s instincts taking over with a growl that reverberated in her chest.

*Well, this escalated quickly,* Leya quipped, though her tone had sharpened with focus. *Stay sharp.*

Alessandra darted to the edge of the clearing where the first rogue had appeared, her paws barely skimming the ground. The rogue—a massive gray wolf with jagged scars across its muzzle—lunged at her with a snarl. She met it head-on, her teeth bared and claws slashing through the air. They collided in a tumble of fur and fury, but Alessandra was faster. She twisted mid-roll and raked her claws across the rogue’s side, drawing a pained howl.

A blur of black fur slammed into the rogue, knocking it away with bone-crushing force. Dane. His wolf was larger, his movements calculated and relentless. The rogue snarled and lunged again, but he intercepted it with brutal efficiency. Within moments, the rogue lay limp on the forest floor, blood pooling beneath it.

Dane’s icy blue eyes met Alessandra’s briefly. For a heartbeat, an unspoken understanding passed between them. Whatever complications the mate bond brought, they were still pack. And the pack was under attack.

*Focus, Alessandra,* Leya urged, her voice steadier now, though tinged with approval. *Save the staring for later.*

Another rogue burst from the shadows, and Alessandra didn’t need further prompting. She and Dane moved in sync, their attacks perfectly coordinated. They wove around each other, their movements a seamless dance of strategy and instinct. She hated how natural it felt—how their bond amplified their synergy like they were two halves of a whole.

By the time the last rogue retreated into the forest, dragging its wounded comrades with it, the clearing was eerily silent. Alessandra shifted back into her human form, her breath heavy as she surveyed the damage. Several pack members were injured, but none fatally. The elders were already organizing patrols, their voices sharp and commanding. She caught a glimpse of their solemn expressions, but there was something else there too—worry, maybe even fear.

Dane approached her, his wolf’s form still intact. His icy blue eyes locked on her as if searching for something. Alessandra crossed her arms, her body still humming with adrenaline and tension.

“Well,” she said, her voice sharper than she intended, “that was... eventful.”

Dane shifted then, his human form imposing even in the midst of the chaos. He didn’t speak at first, his gaze dropping to her arm. Alessandra followed his eyes and saw the shallow claw mark marring her skin.

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly, brushing it off. The last thing she needed was him acting like some overbearing alpha.

“Rogue wounds can get infected,” he said, his voice clipped. He stepped closer, his presence radiating heat despite the night’s chill. “You should—”

“I said it’s fine,” she snapped, cutting him off. Her pride bristled against the mate bond’s pull.

Dane’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he nodded curtly and turned away, his movements as controlled as ever. Alessandra watched him go, her emotions a chaotic swirl of relief, anger, and something far more dangerous.

*Well, that was fun,* Leya said, her tone light despite the tension lingering in Alessandra’s chest. *You two make a terrifyingly good team, you know.*

“Don’t start,” Alessandra muttered, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets as she headed toward the infirmary. She couldn’t think about the mate bond now. Not with the scent of blood and smoke still clinging to the air.

But she couldn’t shake the memory of Dane’s eyes—piercing, calculating, and undeniably connected to hers.

Above them, the blood-red moon hung unyielding. Destiny, it seemed, had other plans for her.