Beneath the Skin

The fire crackled in the center of the Greyhart den, its embers casting long shadows across stone walls carved generations ago. Wolves shifted between human and beast at ease, some curling near the hearth, others pacing like warriors always preparing for war.

Ronan didn't sit. He rarely did.

He stood near the mouth of the cave, arms crossed, gaze set on the canopy outside, where the sky churned behind clouds and a near-full moon.

Behind him, the council was already arguing.

Again!

"They crossed the border three nights ago," Elder Merek barked. "Five of them. Armed. Hunting."

"We don't have proof of intent," said Ronan, with a calm voice.

"They don't need intent. They're vampires. That is intent."

Ronan turned, slow and sharp. "Not all of them."

A few heads snapped toward him.

Merek sneered. "You sound like your mother."

He meant it as a threat but Ronan took it as a compliment.

"She believed peace could be real," Ronan said. "And you hated her for it."

"She died for it", Elder Merek said.

"So did your son," Ronan shot back. "Trying to burn a vampire village that had already surrendered."

Silence fell like snow.

Merek's knuckles went white against the table.

Riven, standing a few feet behind Ronan, gave a quiet sigh of disbelief. "Well, that was subtle."

"Wasn't trying to be," Ronan muttered.

He didn't wait for the council's dismissal. He was already moving toward the exit when Merek snarled after him, "Keep chasing ghosts and you'll meet your end at their hands too."

Ronan didn't answer.

He shifted the moment he cleared the den, paws hitting the dirt in one smooth motion. The wind was cold, but the run burned through his muscles, cutting through the tension like steel through a cloth.

He ran for hours. Over ridges. Through pine. Across streams glowing faintly with starlight.

And when he slowed… he realized he wasn't alone.

The air carried a scent.

Sweet. Sharp. Unmistakably vampiric.

But there was no fear.

No aggression.

Just… awareness.

He stopped at the edge of a clearing, the same one from the night before.

And there, just beyond the veil of trees—

She was watching him.

His eyes were like winter and storm clouds, body poised and still as death, but something in her pulsed alive.

Selene.

He didn't know her name yet. But he would.

Ronan stepped into the open, letting the moonlight hit him. He saw the glint of steel in her hand. Not raised. Not thrown.

Waiting.

Testing.

He held his ground.

"Strange," he said into the stillness. "I thought your kind didn't bleed curiosity."

She didn't respond right away. Her head tilted, just slightly.

"Strange," she echoed. "I thought yours didn't know how to speak in full sentences."

A slow grin spread across his face.

"You always this charming, or just for me?"

"I haven't decided if I'm killing you yet", she said. 

"Well, let me help. I'm Ronan Greyhart." He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Unarmed, Unbitten, Unimpressed."

Selene stepped closer into the light, her pale skin catching the moon like it belonged to her. "Selene."

There. A name.

He liked the way it tasted.

"Well, Selene," he said softly. "Here we are. No teeth. No claws, just questions."

Her lips twitched—almost a smile.

Then, from the north, a howl split the air.

Not Ronan's. Not Riven's.

Another scout. Getting too close.

Selene's eyes snapped toward the sound.

"You should go," she said, voice soft now. "Next time, I might not be the one who finds you."

Ronan nodded once. "Next time, I might not mind."

And then he turned.

Vanishing back into the woods with the phantom of her name still burning in his blood.

Selene didn't move until the forest had swallowed Ronan whole.

She listened for minutes—still, silent, sensing. No patrols. No witnesses.

And no sign that what just happened… was real.

But it was.

The way he looked at her. The way he didn't bare his teeth or curse her name. The way he stood under the moonlight, not as a beast—but as a man.

A dangerous man. A werewolf.

She pressed her hand to her chest, startled to find her heart racing like prey. It wasn't fear. It was something far worse.

Curiosity.

She turned and vanished into the trees before she could name anything else.

Later, at the Stronghold

The stone hallway leading to her chambers felt colder than usual. Selene walked quickly, her cloak still damp from the forest air, her mind still tangled in storm-gray eyes and words that didn't belong to enemies.

As she reached her door, a voice slid out of the shadows.

"I didn't know you took midnight walks now."

Her heart stuttered.

"Simon," she said, not surprised—just exhausted.

He stepped out of the corridor like he belonged in her darkness. And once, he had.

His smile was smooth and charming to anyone who didn't know him. But Selene knew better now. She saw the twist in his mouth, the hunger behind his gaze. Not for her affection but her obedience.

"You weren't at the gathering," he said, brushing an invisible speck off his sleeve. "Lucien noticed. The Matron did too."

"I needed air," Selene replied.

Simon tilted his head. "Air? Or something else?"

"I'm not interested in your games."

He stepped closer, voice lower. "You used to be."

She stood firm. "And then I woke up."

Simon's expression darkened, but only for a second before smoothing back into his charm. "Careful, Selene. You're drawing attention. Vanishing, wandering off, gossiping with that mortal-loving Dalia when the Matron speaks."

"Is that why you followed me?" she asked. "To tattle?"

"I followed you because I care." He reached for her, fingers brushing her sleeve.

She stepped back. "Don't."

Something flickered in his eyes—something brittle and cold.

"I'm not the enemy here," he said tightly.

"No," Selene said softly. "You're just a reminder of everything I want to forget." Then she turned her back and opened the door to her chambers.

But before she closed it, Simon leaned in just enough to whisper, "The court is watching and they're not as forgiving as I am."

The door shut between them.

Selene pressed her back against the wood, pulse screeching in her ears.

She'd broken ties with Simon months ago—but now, more than ever, she saw the truth of what he was.

And she had the feeling… he was only just getting started.