Beneath the Moon’s Curse
Someone dropped a blade, the clatter sharp against the tense air. No one laughed.
Elara stood near the training grounds, gripping the edge of a weathered wooden post until her knuckles turned white. The bond throbbed beneath her skin, an unrelenting ache she couldn't shake. She could feel him—Kael—like a storm gathering at the edge of her senses, distant yet suffocating.
Lira's voice cut through the fog of her thoughts. "You're on edge."
Elara forced her fingers to relax, though her jaw stayed tight. "I'm fine."
Lira snorted, crossing her arms. "No one's fine during the full moon. Least of all him." She nodded toward the balcony where Kael stood, overlooking the courtyard.
His figure was rigid, a silhouette carved from stone, but Elara didn't need to see his face to feel the tension coiling beneath his calm exterior.
"He's been worse lately," Elara muttered, unable to tear her gaze away.
"The bond," Lira replied simply. "It makes everything louder. The moon doesn't help."
Elara swallowed hard. She'd noticed the changes—the way Kael's presence seemed heavier, how his eyes burned hotter, how his restraint frayed at the edges. And her own emotions? A mess. Anger flaring without warning. Desire burning sharp and fast before she could shove it down. Even the simple brush of fabric against her skin felt like too much.
"It's not just him, is it?" Lira's sharp gaze pinned her. "You feel it too."
Elara didn't answer. She didn't have to.
A tense silence settled between them until Lira sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "The full moon pushes us to the edge. For Lycans, it's instinct. For you..." She hesitated. "It's something else."
Elara frowned. "What do you mean?"
But Lira was already turning away. "You'll find out soon enough."
The words landed like a stone in Elara's chest. She watched Kael disappear into the shadows of the hall, his absence leaving a hollow ache she hated. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms.
You're not mine to feel, she thought bitterly.
Later, in the dim glow of her chambers, the ache grew. The walls felt too close, the bond's pull too strong. Sleep was pointless. She paced, her thoughts spiraling—sharp edges with no answers. She caught her reflection in the cracked mirror above the washbasin: flushed cheeks, wild eyes, like someone she didn't recognize.
Then she felt it—Kael's presence, sharp and sudden, pressing against her senses like a physical touch. Her heart raced, not from fear, but something far more dangerous. Something she couldn't name without choking on it.
She slammed the door open, stepping into the corridor. Cool air met her heated skin, grounding her just enough to think. The hall stretched out, empty except for the flicker of distant torches. But she knew exactly where he was.
And she hated how badly she wanted to find him.
The moon's light spilled through the windows, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch and curl like fingers. As Elara moved through them, a quiet fury built inside her—a mix of frustration, fear, and something she refused to name. Her bare feet made soft sounds against the cold stone, each step too loud in the silence.
When she finally stopped, it wasn't because she'd found Kael. It was because she'd found herself staring at the empty throne room, the seat of his power looming like a challenge. Like a throne waiting for someone to claim it.
Her pulse thundered.
The bond thrummed, an invisible thread tightening around her ribs.
And she knew—this was only the beginning.
…
By the time Elara reached the training grounds, her skin was electric, the bond humming with restless energy. The sounds of grunts and clashing weapons barely registered. All she could feel was the ache—raw and sharp, like Kael was already there, waiting.
The training grounds were tense, charged with the kind of energy that made skin prickle. The full moon hung low, casting sharp silver streaks across the packed dirt. Warriors formed loose circles, sparring with wild, unrestrained aggression—the kind that didn't care about bruises or blood.
Elara stood at the edge, her pulse a steady drum against her ribs. Kael was there, issuing orders with clipped precision, his presence magnetic and suffocating all at once. His golden eyes barely flicked over her, but the bond tightened like a noose around her chest.
"Fall in," Kael barked, his gaze shifting to her finally—sharp, expectant.
Elara didn't move.
The warriors paused, stolen glances bouncing between them. The defiance was small, but in this world, small things could topple kings.
Kael's jaw flexed. "I said—fall in."
Elara stepped forward, but not where he directed. Instead, she moved to a sparring circle, grabbing a weapon from the rack—a dull training blade—and tossed it from hand to hand.
A flicker of something dark flashed across Kael's face. He strode toward her, the crowd parting instinctively, leaving a gaping space filled with tension thick enough to choke on.
"Elara." His voice was low now, dangerous. "You'll do as I say."
She met his gaze, unflinching. "I'm not part of your pack."
The silence that followed was sharp. Then—Kael moved.
Fast.
His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist, the blade clattering to the ground. The force of it spun her around, her back slamming against his chest. She sucked in a breath, fury sparking to life.
"Don't test me," he growled against her ear, his grip bruising.
Her heart thundered—not from fear. From something worse.
Without thinking, she twisted, elbow driving hard into his ribs. He barely flinched, but it was enough. She broke free, stumbling back, chest heaving.
Kael's face darkened, his Lycan instincts flashing just beneath the surface. In two strides, he was on her again, slamming her against the nearest post. His hand pressed against her throat—not choking, just there. A threat. A promise.
"Is this what you want?" he hissed, golden eyes burning.
Elara's breath came fast, her chest rising against his hand. She didn't know if it was rage or the bond—or both—that made her skin feel too hot, her thoughts too loud.
She laughed. Sharp. Bitter. "You think this is control?"
His grip tightened slightly, enough to make her pulse pound harder. But she didn't flinch.
"You can't stand it, can you?" she whispered, her voice a ragged breath. "That the bond makes you feel something you can't command."
Kael's restraint snapped.
His mouth crashed against hers—not soft, not tender, but wild and furious, like he could devour the defiance right out of her.
Elara bit him.
Hard.
Kael pulled back, blood smeared along his bottom lip. He stared at her, breath ragged, chest heaving. Then—he laughed. Low and dark, like it came from somewhere deep.
"You'll break eventually," he whispered.
She wiped the blood from her own mouth, her smile sharp as glass. "So will you."
Kael stepped back, chest rising and falling, the bond thrumming between them, wild and raw.
The warriors were silent, watching, but Elara didn't care.
Kael didn't say another word. He just turned and walked away.
But Elara felt it—the crack in his control.
And it felt like victory.
Even if her heart was still racing for all the wrong reasons.
…
The full moon bled silver across the stronghold, casting long shadows that twisted like restless spirits. The air itself felt heavier, saturated with tension and something feral beneath the surface. Howls echoed in the distance—raw, unrestrained, hungry.
Elara stalked away from the training grounds, her heart still racing from the confrontation with Kael. Her skin burned—not just from the heat of the fight, but from something deeper, something she couldn't shake. The bond pulsed like a second heartbeat, refusing to let her forget the way his eyes had darkened, the feel of his grip, the taste of blood and defiance lingering on her lips.
She didn't return to her room. She couldn't.
Instead, her feet carried her through the dim halls, aimless but not really. She knew exactly where she was going, even if she refused to admit it.
Kael's chambers loomed ahead, the heavy door cracked open just enough to be an invitation—or a warning.
She didn't knock.
Kael was there, standing by the large window, his back to her. The moonlight painted him in sharp contrast—broad shoulders tense, fists clenched at his sides. His shirt was gone, revealing taut muscles drawn tight with restraint.
He didn't turn. "Go back."
Elara stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. "No."
That single word seemed to snap something. Kael turned, his golden eyes glowing faintly, wild and sharp. His control frayed, hanging by threads so thin they were practically invisible.
"You don't know what you're doing," he growled, voice rough, edged with something darker than anger.
"I know exactly what I'm doing," she shot back, stepping closer. Her heart raced, but she didn't stop. Couldn't. The bond wouldn't let her.
Kael's chest rose and fell rapidly, his eyes flickering with something between fury and—need.
"You should be afraid," he whispered.
Elara swallowed hard, her pulse a drumbeat against her throat. "Then make me."
That was it. The breaking point.
Kael moved faster than she could process, slamming her back against the door, his hands braced on either side of her head. His face was inches from hers, his breath hot and uneven.
"You think this is a game?" he snarled, voice low, vibrating through her chest.
Her lips curled into a defiant smirk. "No. But you're losing.
His hand shot out, gripping her jaw—not hard enough to hurt, just enough to remind her of the power simmering beneath his skin. But instead of fear, heat surged through her, wild and relentless.
The bond pulsed, snapping tight like a whip.
Kael's eyes darkened further, his control slipping. His thumb brushed over her bottom lip, almost absentmindedly, as if he couldn't stop himself.
And then—the world exploded.
A surge of raw energy burst from Elara's chest, a blinding flash of light that sent Kael flying across the room. He crashed into the far wall, sliding to the floor with a ragged groan.
Elara collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath, her vision swimming with spots. Her skin felt too hot, her veins buzzing like live wires.
Kael groaned, pushing himself up slowly. His golden eyes met hers—no longer filled with rage, but something else entirely.
Shock.
And beneath that—fear.
Kael wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, his chest heaving—not from the impact, but from something deeper.
The crack wasn't in the wall. It was in him. He'd faced war, death, betrayal—but nothing rattled him like this. Like her. The bond was supposed to be fate, not a curse. But what if it was both?
Elara stared at her trembling hands, the remnants of that terrifying power still humming beneath her skin.
"What… was that?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Kael didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
And that was the scariest part of all.
Elara's breath came in ragged bursts, her chest tight with something more than exhaustion.
Not just fear—shame.
The power had felt like fire and fury, but now it left her hollow, trembling. She clenched her fists, desperate to ground herself, but the tremor wouldn't stop.
She wasn't afraid of Kael's reaction. She was afraid of her own.