CHAPTER EIGHT: The Curse Beneath the Skin

The dreams started that night.

Zara woke in a sweat, the mark on her shoulder burning like it had been branded anew. Her sheets tangled around her legs, her breath coming fast.

In the dream, she stood in a stone temple lit only by moonlight, barefoot and cloaked in silver mist. Something had been chasing her—no, circling her. A beast with her mate’s eyes, but none of his soul.

Not Maxim.

Not entirely.

She pulled her shirt aside and looked at the crescent-shaped mark etched near her collarbone. It pulsed faintly, not just magic—but awareness.

It was awake.

And it wasn’t alone anymore.

Later that morning, Zara sat in the east wing of Silver & Vale's arcane archive, books spread around her like a scholar possessed. Ruby had snuck her a special access pass, and the glowing crest at the top of each page confirmed that these weren’t ordinary documents.

These were Luna chronicles.

Across the brittle parchment were names of women who had carried the bond. Most were forgotten. A few were mourned.

Some were feared.

One entry made her blood run cold.

> Selene Vale.

Fated mate of Maximilian Vale. Deceased.

Marked on the blood moon. Died by bonded transformation.

Zara’s fingers trembled as she turned the page.

“Bonded transformation,” she whispered.

Magic merging with flesh, soul forced to reshape before it was ready.

Some Luna mates didn’t survive the shift.

She closed the book with a snap and leaned back. Her head throbbed, but worse than that—her heart did.

Maxim hadn’t killed Selene. Not really.

The bond had.

And if history repeated itself…

Zara pushed to her feet and made her way to the lower floor, down a hall lit by magical torches. Her destination was clear: the Seer’s Chamber.

The Seer was an old woman with moon-white braids that touched the floor and eyes like spilled ink. She was blind, and yet when she turned toward Zara, it felt like the Seer was seeing straight through her.

“You wear the bond,” the Seer said, her voice like old paper. “And yet it hasn’t consumed you.”

“Yet,” Zara replied.

The Seer tilted her head. “You want to know what lies ahead.”

“I need to know if I’m strong enough to survive him.”

The Seer didn’t speak. Instead, she held out a hand, gnarled and glowing with faint light.

Zara hesitated, then stepped forward and placed her palm in the old woman’s.

The world went black.

She was no longer in the chamber.

Zara stood in the woods, barefoot, wearing a ceremonial gown of ash-gray silk that fluttered like smoke. Wolves howled in the distance. The moon—full, red, bleeding—hung low in the sky.

Across from her stood Maxim, eyes wild, shirt torn, the veins in his neck pulsing with power barely restrained. His wolf clawed just beneath his skin.

Her mark burned.

She tried to speak, but no sound came out.

Maxim stepped closer, his hands shaking. His voice sounded like both man and monster.

“Run, Zara.”

She stood her ground.

“Run before I can’t love you anymore.”

And then—he lunged.

Zara gasped and staggered back to reality, her knees buckling. The Seer caught her, surprisingly strong.

“That was a vision?” Zara croaked. “A prophecy?”

“A warning,” the Seer replied. “But not fixed.”

Zara wiped her face. She didn’t even realize she was crying.

“What do I do?”

The Seer’s voice turned soft. “Become more than Luna. Become legend. That’s the only way you live.”

Later that day, Zara found Maxim on the rooftop balcony, facing the city with both hands gripping the edge like it was the only thing keeping him sane.

“I saw her,” Zara said.

Maxim didn’t turn around. “Selene?”

“No. Me. In the future. And you… you begged me to run.”

He exhaled harshly. “I always want you to run. I just want you to live.”

Zara crossed the space between them and rested a hand on his back. “Then teach me. Whatever you know about this curse—this magic—train me to survive it.”

He turned to her, storm brewing in his silver eyes.

“You want me to teach you how to survive me?”

Zara nodded.

“I don’t know how.”

“Then we learn together.”

They started that night.

The training room beneath Silver & Vale wasn’t made of iron and mats—it was laced with spells, mirrors of memory, and stone enchanted to mimic supernatural force. It was built for heirs and monsters.

Maxim circled her slowly. “The mark isn’t just a claim. It’s a doorway. It’s leaking pieces of me into you. And your own power is waking up to match it.”

Zara raised her hands. “So I’m cursed now too.”

“No,” he said. “You’re becoming.”

He lunged. Zara blocked his strike, barely. He moved like a beast in a tailored suit—precision and destruction blended into one.

Again.

Again.

Again.

She fell. He pulled her up.

She struck. He caught her wrist midair.

He whispered, “Feel the bond.”

She closed her eyes.

The air changed.

And suddenly—she could hear it. The pulse. The rhythm of his wolf. The ache beneath his anger. The wound left by Selene. The fear he buried under stone.

Zara shoved forward, her energy blooming like moonlight. Maxim staggered.

He smiled through bloodied lips.

“That’s it.”

The next morning, they both bore bruises—hers physical, his emotional.

Still, Zara showed up to the war council meeting at the Crescent Court. Ruby met her at the gate with two espresso shots and a grim expression.

“You made the news.”

Zara blinked. “What?”

Ruby pulled out her phone. A supernatural gossip blog blazed across the screen:

> “Beast Billionaire’s Human Mate Linked to Ancient Blood Curse”

Sources say the new Luna may not survive her first transformation. Victor Vale calls for firm investigation.

Zara’s mouth went dry. “Victor planted this.”

Ruby nodded. “And that’s not all. He’s formally challenged Maxim’s leadership. He invoked the heir trial clause.”

Zara nearly dropped the espresso. “But we just finished the first trial.”

“There’s a second,” Ruby said. “The Eclipse Rite. Meant to prove an Alpha’s bloodline is worthy during unstable power shifts. And this one... it’s public.”

Zara’s pulse raced.

“How soon?”

“Three nights from now. During the eclipse.”

Zara looked out over the rising sun.

Three nights.

Three nights to either survive the curse—or let Victor burn the empire to the ground.

And somewhere in the tower Victor Vale smiled, knowing the curse wasn’t the only thing stalking the new Luna. It was time, finally… for the blood to boil.