008

DAMON

I had plans. Simple ones. Go over to the Crescent Pack, get the Twelve, and return to my pack.

But of course, nothing ever goes as planned.

I’m already pissed as it is., Everyone wants something: loyalty, strength, leadership…, Even when I’m barely holding it together.

How the hell am I supposed to help a pack that’s my own doom? The Moon Relic has had it out for me from the start, taking the one thing that kept my sanity intact. And lately... things have only gotten worse.

According to the prophecy, only the Twelve from the Crescent Pack can awaken the relic’s true power. Without them, our strength, and our standing among the other packs is crumbling fast.

In exchange for the Twelve, the Crescent Pack gets our backing during war, a simple measure to secure the alliance.

“If these Twelve can finally awaken the Moon Relic, you know what that means… right?” Caden mumbles next to me, yawning so loud the small female closest to us stares at him. And this is my fucking Beta.

We stand at the dock, watching as our men help the Twelve board the ship. The cold air is whipping through me.

“It doesn’t change anything. It awakens, we get our power back, and that’s it.”

Caden sighs, his tone edging into something I don’t have patience for. “We need an heir, Alpha. We need an heir. You need to find your true mate, your soulbound, and give this pack a future.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “The Moon Relic doesn’t want an heir. If it fucking did, it wouldn’t have taken her away from me.” My growl rumbles through the emptiness in front of us, clashing against the waves. Memories, I've struggled so hard to bury, resurface... and all I can do is grind my teeth.

“You can’t keep living in the past, AlphaStill, the pack needs an heir.”

“We can always adopt one. There’s nothing wrong with that… is there?”

Caden hesitates. “No, Alpha. But your bloodline is...”

“Spare me, Caden.” The words cut through his sentence as I turn, then my voice fades.

For a moment, it feels like I’m caught in a daze. Her back is to me, but that frame… that hair color… I’d know it anywhere. I could swear it’s her. I could swear...

But the dead don’t return, do they?

I’m too busy staring to notice Caden’s already left my side, helping one of the Twelve onto the ship. She turns, and my heart slams against my ribs. Maddox, my wolf, growls low and deep.

I’ve never felt this before. Never.

Her face comes fully into view, and no, she isn’t my Maggie. But for a second, I believed she was. Maybe I’ve finally lost it. Maybe that’s why every woman I look at reminds me of her. That’s why I…

Her eyes are on me, deep, piercing blue. The kind that make you forget how to breathe. She’s staring straight at me, and even with the mask covering my face, it feels like she can see me.

Damn.

She’s dangerously beautiful and pretty fuckable. Those lips, full, soft, and tinted the perfect shade of red, look like sin. Her long, silver-white hair shines under the light, framing her face. Thick lashes, sharp brows… she’s fucking exquisite.

And for a second, I forget where I am, who I am. All I can think about is how she’d sound if I kissed her hard enough to make her breathe my name.

Maddox growls in my head, low, rough. Oh, damn. That’s new.

He’s never been one to approve of my fuckboy habits, and he sure as hell doesn’t approve of Seris.

But this one… this one he doesn’t seem to mind.

I don’t get it. I don’t even know her., Every instinct in me, human and wolf, is losing its damn mind.

My cock is already half hard just thinking about her, standing here in full view and bitter wind. I look down at my tenting pants. This hasn’t happened since Maggie.

***

The journey back to my pack, and the meeting with the High Priestess, was business, nothing more. A job done and concluded. Now it’s her turn to play her part… and expect nothing from me.

Maddox hasn’t rested since. Her scent, strong and addictive, clings to me from the few times I’ve passed her. It’s like she’s branded herself into my damn senses. Everywhere I go, I catch traces of her.

She’s haunting me. Every. Fucking. Where.

I want to walk up to her. To hear her voice for the first time. But her face… she looks like someone the world didn’t mean to hurt. Like she doesn’t deserve the kind of darkness I drag people into.

I’m the kind of man who calls a spade a spade: I see what I want and I take it. But this? This feels different. So fucking different. It’s like I’m lost on the board and I don’t know which chess piece is missing.

I could swear I tried to make out with Seris a hundred times, but all I can imagine lately is this girl, her face, her curves, those innocent eyes.

I am fifty shades of fucked up. Because does it sound insane if I say all I want to do is break her. Shatter her into pieces. And then arrange those pieces to fit against my own missing chess piece 

It’s worse than fucked up. When I say I’m about to cross lines, I mean exactly that: fucking her more than once. Keeping her as my new mistress. I’ll hunt her moments. I’ll claim her nights and mornings until the world bends to the shape of her and me. The urge is new, a hunger that doesn’t ask permission.

Because obsession isn’t gentle. It’s a slow, precise cruelty I’m willing to perform, again and again, until she’s branded mine in ways even I can’t name.