Chapter Three – When the Blood Stirs

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The first thing I felt was fracture.

Not in the pack.

In myself.

It cut beneath my ribs without warning, sharp enough to steal half a breath before I forced my spine straight.

My hand tightened around the hilt of my sword.

The moon burned too bright overhead. Full. Merciless.

Behind me, the pack shifted—muscles tight, wolves pressing too close to the surface. Full moons thinned the line between man and beast.

But this wasn’t the moon.

This was precise.

Targeted.

“Alpha?” Dorian’s voice was low, controlled.

I didn’t answer.

Because it came again.

A pull.

Invisible.

Unmistakable.

My wolf surged violently inside me.

Mine.

The word didn’t feel like instinct.

It felt like recognition.

I took a step forward.

My knee nearly buckled.

I locked my jaw and kept walking.

No one must see that.

Especially not the Council.

Weakness spreads faster than blood.

The scent reached me next.

Human.

But wrong.

Too clean.

Too sharp.

Like something hidden beneath skin.

My wolf reacted instantly—alert, possessive, restless.

The warriors behind me stiffened.

They felt it too.

“Back,” I ordered.

A ripple of tension moved through them.

They obeyed.

The Council did not.

“You react as though she matters,” one of the elders said quietly.

“I react because she crossed,” I replied.

“You react because she binds,” he corrected.

Another pulse struck my chest.

Stronger.

This time my vision flickered at the edges.

Subtle.

But real.

The curse doesn’t strike with a blade.

It destabilizes.

Tests.

Waits for weakness.

“She is human,” another elder said. “This cannot be permitted.”

“You do not know what she is,” Dorian countered.

“And neither does he,” the elder replied, his gaze locking on mine.

Another flare of heat burned beneath my skin.

My strength dipped—just enough that my wolf snarled in protest.

The elder saw it.

His lips curved slightly.

They were watching.

Testing.

Waiting for me to falter.

“She is in my forest,” I said slowly.

The words were not defensive.

They were territorial.

A claim without speaking one.

“She is in your blood,” the elder answered.

Silence fell.

That was too close to truth.

I didn’t wait for permission.

I moved.

Branches parted as I entered the trees. The forest bent around me—not out of fear, but familiarity. This land answered to me.

But tonight—

It answered to something else.

She was close.

Running.

Her panic tore through the bond like claws.

Sharp.

Breathless.

Desperate.

And beneath it—

Relief.

The moment she crossed the boundary, it surged.

As if she believed she had entered safety.

I did not like that.

No one enters without consequence.

Another pulse struck my chest.

Harder.

My steps slowed involuntarily.

My strength wavered.

The curse was reacting to proximity.

Not rejection.

Not yet.

Awakening.

If the bond fully ignited under the full moon—

In front of witnesses—

There would be no denying it.

And denial was the only thing protecting my authority.

“She is nearing the inner line,” Dorian’s voice carried faintly from behind.

Too close.

Too far.

I pushed forward.

Then I saw her.

Stumbling between trees.

Bleeding.

Clothes torn.

Exhausted.

But standing.

Her fear hit me full force.

Not distant now.

Immediate.

The echo of hands where they did not belong.

Voices too close.

Breath stolen.

Rage swallowed everything else.

Not calculated.

Not strategic.

Absolute.

My wolf surged with it.

Mine.

The word struck harder this time.

The bond ignited.

Violent.

Not gradual.

A searing thread snapped tight between us.

My vision blackened for half a heartbeat.

My knees nearly gave.

I caught myself against a tree, fingers digging into bark.

If anyone had seen that—

The Council would not hesitate.

Dangerous, my wolf warned.

Cursed, memory whispered.

But when she looked up and our gazes locked—

The world shifted.

Not metaphor.

Not poetic.

Shifted.

The air thickened.

The ground felt unstable.

The bond didn’t settle.

It flared.

Her scent changed.

Not human.

Not wolf.

Something older stirred beneath it.

The forest reacted.

Subtly.

But I felt it.

She did not belong here.

And yet—

The land did not reject her.

That was wrong.

Very wrong.

Another pulse hit my chest.

This time I felt my strength flicker outward.

As if something was siphoning it.

Testing the connection.

The curse does not kill first.

It weakens.

It erodes control.

And control is everything.

If I lost control—

The pack would sense it.

The Council would act.

And she would die before dawn.

My wolf did not care.

He pressed forward, eager.

Claim.

Stabilize.

End the fracture.

I stepped toward her.

Whatever she carried in her blood—

Whatever history had awakened—

There was no turning back now.

Because I could feel it clearly.

The curse had not merely stirred.

It had recognized her.

And recognition is never accidental.

Behind me, far enough not to interfere—

The forest shifted again.

They were watching.

Not my pack.

Not yet.

The Council.

Waiting to see if I would fall.

I straightened fully.

Forced my breath steady.

Forced my strength back into place.

If this was a test—

I would not fail it in front of them.

But as I reached her—

As the bond burned hotter than it had in generations—

I knew something far more dangerous than weakness had begun.

Not loss of power.

Not loss of control.

Loss of certainty.

And for an Alpha—

That is the first step toward ruin.