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The pull between
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2025-10-09 05:05:42Braxton POV
He told himself not to go to her. He told himself to turn back, to focus on drills, on duty, on anything but the sound of her voice. But his wolf wasn’t listening anymore. The creature inside him had gone still, ears pricked, muscles coiled — every sense tuned to her. And when she laughed again, soft and low, something in him broke loose. Before he knew it, he was moving. Each step toward her felt inevitable, drawn by something more powerful than reason. The air grew thick with her scent — wildflowers and something warmer now, richer, alive in a way that made his pulse stumble. He’d known that scent his whole life, but never like this. Never this alive. Emry turned before he reached her, as though she’d felt him coming. Her green eyes found his immediately — and that’s when he saw it. Violet. Just a flicker at first, deep beneath the green, but unmistakable. The sight hit him like a blow. He’d dreamed of eyes like that for as long as he could remember — eyes that gleamed like moonlight on wildflowers, always watching him from the shadows of his mind. He’d never known whose they were. Until now. Braxton stopped a few feet away, pulse hammering. For once, words failed him. She looked at him curiously, a touch of irritation already forming — the kind she always wore when she caught him watching her. But then her expression softened, just slightly, as if she sensed something different in him this time. “Is there something you need, Beta?” she asked, her tone even but not unkind. His throat went dry. “You—” He stopped, forcing a breath. “You’re… different today.” Her brow lifted. “That’s your observation?” He almost smiled — almost — but it faltered. “Your eyes,” he said quietly. “They’re… not just green anymore.” Her frown deepened. “What are you talking about?” He hesitated, struggling to find words that didn’t sound like madness. The wolf inside him pressed closer to the surface, wanting to close the distance, to touch, to confirm. Instead, he shifted his weight, looking away. “It’s nothing. Maybe just the light.” He could feel her eyes on him, sharp and searching. She always saw more than he wanted her to. “Since when do you second-guess yourself?” she asked softly, the usual bite missing from her voice. His gaze snapped back to her. Her tone, the way she said it — gentle, curious — caught him completely off guard. “Since I started seeing things I can’t explain,” he admitted, before he could stop himself. The silence stretched between them. The others had drifted from the yard, leaving them alone in the morning light. The air pulsed — not wind, not sound — but something between them, invisible and alive. The hum of her energy brushed against his, and his wolf surged forward, almost slipping past the fragile control he kept on it. He took a step closer, not because he meant to, but because he couldn’t help it. Her breath caught. For the first time in years, he saw no hatred in her eyes — only confusion, and something softer beneath it. He cleared his throat, retreating a fraction of a step, guilt flashing through him like heat. “You should—uh—get some water. You’ve been out here a while.” The corner of her mouth twitched, caught between amusement and disbelief. “Are you… worried about me?” He wanted to deny it. Wanted to smirk, make a joke, say something to break the tension. But the words wouldn’t come. For once, Braxton Hale — Beta of the Silvercrest Pack, soldier, protector, and self-proclaimed master of control — found himself completely, utterly undone. And Emry saw it.
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Bound By Moonlight Dusk between worlds
Veylan’s POVHe dreamed of light.He always did, at first.A memory of silver on skin, of laughter echoing through the first night, of fingers that once traced constellations across his chest and named them mercy.Then came the ache.The reminder that light no longer touched him — that it had been sealed away with her forgiveness, buried beneath roots and stone and silence.He had forgotten the passage of years. The Bloodwood had no time, only pulse. Its heart beat with his own, slow and endless.He did not hunger. He waited.And now, after ages of quiet, something stirred.A tremor through the roots.A thread of warmth cutting through the dark.Not the goddess — no, not her.But her echo.Child of my light, he thought, the words not spoken but formed in the breath between worlds. Born of her mercy and my fire. I can feel you.Images flooded him — fragmented, half-formed.A girl with silver-threaded hair and eyes that burned like dawn breaking through mist.Her laughter was his goddes
Bound By Moonlight The road to the Bloodwood
Third-Person — Seren’s MemorySleep never came easily anymore. The forest whispered too loudly, threading dreams with memories until she couldn’t tell which was real.Seren’s head rested against the cold wall of the hollow, eyes half-lidded. The rhythm of the roots pulsed in her veins, dragging her mind backward — to the day it all began.⸻A Year EarlierThe air north of the Frostline had smelled different — sharp, metallic, touched with the faint sweetness of rot. Even then, Seren had known the rumors were true: something was stirring beyond the old borders.The rogues were changing.Not just rabid or broken — organized. Driven by something that called itself truth.She and Theron had gone north with purpose. The elders had begged them not to, warned that the Bloodwood was cursed, that even the goddess’s voice could not cross it. But Seren had felt the pull for months — dreams filled with crimson trees and a voice that wasn’t quite divine but heartbreakingly familiar.She’d told The
Bound By Moonlight Beneath the Bloodwood
Seren’s POVThe Bloodwood never slept.Even in the dark hours before dawn, the forest pulsed faintly — roots whispering beneath the soil, sap glowing red as if carrying the last heartbeat of something divine.Seren sat with her back against the stone wall of the hollow, eyes half-closed, listening. The sound wasn’t wind; it was breath. The entire forest exhaled and inhaled around them, alive in ways no living thing should be.Across the narrow chamber, Theron stirred in his chains. The faint light from the bleeding roots caught in his hair, turning it copper-red. “You’re awake again,” he said hoarsely.“I never really sleep,” Seren murmured.He smiled grimly. “No one does here.”Their prison had once been a temple — she could feel it in the architecture, the arches carved with lunar symbols now overgrown by the living roots of the forest. What had been holy was now devoured.For months — maybe more, time had lost meaning — they had survived on whatever the rogues brought, their bodies
Bound By Moonlight Ceremony morning
Emry’s POVSunlight streamed across the room in long golden bars, carrying the warmth of early spring. Outside, the courtyard was already alive — the steady rhythm of hammers, the rustle of fabric, Mirae’s voice cutting through it all like a command wrapped in cheer.Emry sat by the window, still in her linen shift, hair tumbling loose over her shoulders. The breeze carried the scent of baking bread and crushed flowers. Everything felt so normal that it almost hurt.Through the open shutters, she could see the pack working — stringing lanterns between the pines, polishing the carved stones where the vows would be spoken. Mirae moved among them like a force of nature, hands flying as she scolded, directed, and encouraged in equal measure.Emry smiled faintly, then let the expression fade. She should have been happy — and part of her was — but beneath it all lay a quiet restlessness, the kind that came before a storm.She pressed her palm to her chest, feeling the hum of the bond — Brax
Bound By Moonlight Braxton
The pack grounds were unusually still for an evening before a celebration. Most of the bustle had moved toward the forest clearing, where Mirae was orchestrating the final touches like a general at war with aesthetics.Braxton had escaped to the training field, needing air. He worked through forms with a wooden blade, the rhythmic crack against the post grounding him in a way words never could.The prophecy had left a weight in his chest he couldn’t shake — a quiet dread whispering that everything he loved was already marked by the gods.He didn’t hear Eastin approach until the crunch of boots broke the silence.“Thought I’d find you here,” Eastin said, stopping a few paces away.Braxton lowered the blade. “Trying to remember what normal feels like.”“Any luck?”“Not much.” Braxton wiped his brow with the back of his arm, then nodded toward the faint glow of lanterns in the distance. “Your friend’s planning a small war out there.”Eastin huffed a quiet laugh. “Mirae’s been waiting her
Bound By Moonlight Plans and promises
Emry’s POVThe afternoon sun poured through the council courtyard, turning the white stone almost gold. The air hummed with life—wolves training, children laughing, the distant clang of metal.And, somehow, Mirae’s voice above it all.“Absolutely not!” she called toward a bewildered guard. “If you think I’m letting anyone hang dull brown banners for a divine mating celebration, you’re out of your mind. We’re talking moonlight, silver, maybe lilac—something that doesn’t look like a funeral!”Emry groaned from the steps where she sat with a basket of parchment Mirae had forced into her hands. “You realize I didn’t agree to a festival.”Mirae whirled, hands on her hips. “It’s not a festival; it’s a statement. You and Braxton are the first bonded pair blessed by the moon in generations. People need hope—and honestly, I need an excuse to boss people around again.”“You never need an excuse,” Emry muttered.Mirae ignored her, plucking a quill from the basket and sketching quick notes on one
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