Chapter 4: Craving

THE SILENCE was the first thing Selene noticed. Not the oppressive, thrumming silence of the forest, nor the deafening roar of the ritual. This was a soft, almost luxurious quiet, broken only by the steady, powerful beat of a heart that wasn't her own. The air, instead of damp earth and wolf musk, smelled of clean linen, faint spices, and an intoxicating, dangerously familiar scent that made her muscles clench even before her eyes opened.

Waldemar.

Her eyelids fluttered, struggling against a lingering haze that felt thick and sweet, like a potent sleep-draught. When her vision finally cleared, she found herself in a lavish bed. Silk sheets, impossibly soft, tangled around her bare legs. A heavy, plush comforter covered her, a stark contrast to the rough stone of her cell. The room was expansive, elegantly furnished with dark wood and rich fabrics, bathed in the soft, diffused light filtering through heavy velvet curtains.

This was not a dungeon.

She tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washed over her, and a strange, aching throb pulsed deep in her core, a hunger that had nothing to do with food or water. It was a visceral, carnal yearning that made her shiver, a terrifying echo of the last sensation before darkness claimed her.

"Awake, little witch."

Waldemar's voice, low and resonant, rumbled through the quiet. He was there, seated in a high-backed chair across the room, watching her. He was dressed, impeccably so, in dark trousers and a fine, open-collared shirt that still clung to his powerful frame. His raven hair was wet, slicked back from his face, and a faint aroma of sandalwood clung to him. But his eyes, those molten gold eyes, were as intense as ever, fixed on her with a possessiveness that made her skin prickle.

Selene instinctively pulled the comforter higher, clutching it to her chest. “You drugged me,”she accused, her voice hoarse, thick with sleep and confusion. 

"My chambers," he stated simply, his gaze never leaving her. "And as for what happened… the Moonbind, Selene. It activated. Fully." He rose from the chair, moving towards the bed with the silent, predatory grace she remembered. Each step was deliberate, unhurried, yet filled with an undeniable power.

He stopped at the foot of the bed, his presence overwhelming. "You felt it. The connection. The demand." His eyes dropped to her mouth, then back to her eyes, daring her to deny it. "Your body screamed for mine."

“That’s not true,” she said, her tone shaking with denial she didn’t fully believe. “I would never want you.”

Selene flinched. The memory was hazy, fractured, but the raw, aching need was undeniable. It throbbed beneath her skin, a constant, low burn that was both terrifying and… alluring. She hated it. Hated that her body, her own traitorous magic, could betray her so completely.

"That wasn't me," she whispered, her voice trembling. "That was... some ancient magic. A mistake."

Waldemar's lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. "A mistake that bound you to me, body and soul. Did you think that flash of light was just a pretty show? Your magic, witch, resonated with the ritual. It called to my wolf, and my wolf answered. Now, you are intrinsically tied to me." He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the footboard, his muscled arms flexing. "And your body knows it. Your magic knows it. And very soon, your mind will too."

“You think claiming me in some ritual makes you my master?” she hissed, eyes blazing. “I’d rather die.”

"I will never be yours," Selene spat, though the words felt weak, drowned out by the thrumming desire beneath her skin. She hated the helpless feeling, the sense of being utterly out of control.

"Such defiance," he murmured, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Admirable. But futile." He slowly extended a hand, his fingers tracing the silk sheet just inches from her bare arm. "The Moonbind is absolute, Selene. It ensures devotion. It compels attraction. It demands satisfaction."

He paused, his golden gaze piercing hers. "Resist it, little witch, and you'll burn from the inside out. Every instinct in your being will scream for release. For me."

Selene felt a shiver ripple through her. He wasn't just talking. She could feel a subtle tightening, a building pressure deep in her core, a restless energy that truly did feel like it might consume her if left unchecked. Her magic, still raw and volatile from the previous night, pulsed in agreement with his words. It was like her very essence was reaching out for him, craving his touch.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, filled with a mixture of fear and reluctant curiosity.

Waldemar’s smile widened, a predatory glint in his eyes. "What I want, witch, is for you to accept what fate has decreed. For you to understand that resistance is a luxury you no longer possess. I want you to surrender." His eyes dropped to her lips, and the air thickened, charged with an almost painful desire. "And I want you to crave me as fiercely as my wolf craves you."

“And if I don’t?” she asked, her chin lifting in defiance, even as her voice quivered.

Waldemar chuckled, low and dangerous. “Then I’ll wait. Because every second you fight it, you’ll only tighten the bond. Until you break.”

He moved, in an instant, shifting from the foot of the bed to her side. Selene gasped, startled, trying to scramble back, but she was trapped by the soft mattress and his imposing presence. He caged her in, one hand braced on the headboard, the other resting just beside her hip, though not touching. His scent filled her lungs, warm, musky, utterly intoxicating.

"You're beautiful when you fight, Selene," he murmured, his voice a low growl, "but you'll be even more beautiful when you break." His gaze was hypnotic, drawing her in, threatening to drown her.

“I won’t give you the satisfaction,” she snapped, though her trembling fingers betrayed her. “You’ll never have all of me.”

A fresh wave of heat bloomed in her belly, spreading outward, warming her skin, making her breath hitch. It was the Moonbind, undeniable, compelling. She hated it. Hated the way her body was already responding, the way her nipples hardened, the way her core clenched, desperate for something, anything, to quell the restless ache.

"Don't touch me," she breathed, her voice a desperate plea, laced with a terrifying hint of longing.

Waldemar's eyes narrowed, a knowing glint in their depths. "Such a good lie, little witch. Your body is screaming a different story." His hand, slow and deliberate, moved from the bed beside her hip, tracing a path over the silk sheets, closer and closer to her leg. She watched it, mesmerized, a part of her terrified, another part screaming in anticipation.

His fingers brushed against her bare thigh, sending a jolt through her, an electric current that made her gasp. His touch was light, feather-light, yet it ignited a searing fire that spread through her veins. He didn't move away. Instead, his fingers slowly, exquisitely, began to stroke her skin, barely there, teasing, tormenting.

"This is just the beginning, Selene," he whispered, his voice a low, husky rumble that vibrated through her very bones. "The Moonbind demands satisfaction. And you, my witch, will give it."

"You think this is desire?” she whispered bitterly. “This is magic twisting me against my will.”

"No," Waldemar said softly, eyes never leaving hers. "Magic may have opened the door, but what are you feeling now? That’s all you."

Selene's breath hitched, her body arching involuntarily into his touch, a desperate, animalistic need bubbling to the surface. It was a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, and she was helpless against it. Her magic, no longer dormant, surged, responding to the touch, echoing the desire. The scent of him, of Waldemar, filled her senses, overwhelming everything, demanding her surrender.

His lips hovered inches from hers, his gaze dark and intense. She could feel the heat radiating from him, the overwhelming power of his wolf, demanding a response.

"You're fighting a losing battle," he murmured, his thumb brushing her lower lip, sending a jolt through her. "Every touch, every breath, every moment we spend together will only deepen the craving."

Selene's eyes fluttered shut, her body trembling under the onslaught of sensation. She was adrift, caught in a terrifying current of desire, her will dissolving.

Waldemar's mouth finally claimed hers, a fierce, possessive kiss that consumed her, burning away all thought, all resistance, leaving only the searing heat of the Moonbind and a single, desperate realization: she was utterly, irrevocably his.