FERAL MOON: CLAIMED BY THE LYCAN KING

The forest always felt hungry at dusk.

Wind curled through the black pines like something alive, brushing the leaves with its long, skeletal fingers. Shadows stretched across the damp soil, growing deeper, wider, swallowing the last traces of daylight. Most villagers avoided the woods after sunset, locking doors, bolting windows, praying the rogue wolves didn’t slink down from the ridge.

But Lyra didn’t have time for fear. Not when she heard a child screaming.

She sprinted through the narrow trail, her breath harsh, her palms burning from pushing away thorny branches. “Hold on! I’m coming!” Her voice cracked from running too hard, too far, after an entire day working at the inn.

She should’ve been home by now.

But fate never cared about her exhaustion.

The trail opened into a moonlit clearing.

A small boy, no more than six, was cornered against a boulder, whimpering, clutching his torn shirt. And over him...

A rogue wolf.

Mangy fur. Ribs jutting out. Foam dripping from its jaws.

Lyra froze. Rogues weren’t uncommon near the border these days, especially since the Nightbane King tightened patrols. But she had never seen one this crazed. Its eyes gleamed unnaturally bright, wild and wrong, as if something deep inside had snapped.

“Hey!” Lyra shouted, heart pounding so hard it hurt. “Leave him alone!”

The wolf turned toward her.

And for a heartbeat, she saw death staring back at her.

She didn’t know how she moved so fast.

One second she stood trembling.

The next, she was between the child and the monster, her arms spread wide.

She had no claws. No fangs.

Only her body, small, breakable, but refusing to move.

Then, the wolf lunged to her.

Lyra grabbed the boy and threw them both sideways, rolling across the dirt. His sobs shook her arm. “Don’t look,” she whispered urgently. “Keep your head down.”

The wolf circled, snarling.

Her legs trembled, but she didn’t step back. She lifted a fallen branch, thin as a twig, laughably weak, but it was all she had.

The wolf struck.

It slammed her into the ground, teeth ripping into her shoulder. A scream tore from her throat as hot pain exploded through her flesh, blood spilling onto the soil, bright, vivid, too much.

But she didn’t let go of the boy. Even when her vision blurred. Even when her bones vibrated with agony.

The wolf pulled back for another attack, but then froze.

Not because of her.

Not because of the child.

But because the air itself changed.

Everything went silent.

Not quiet, silent.

The wind died mid-breath.

The shadows thickened.

The moonlight flickered, dimmed, as if something ancient demanded its attention.

A cold tremor crawled down Lyra’s spine.

Something was coming. Something powerful enough to make even the rogue whimper. The wolf turned and fled into the trees like a terrified rabbit.

Lyra let out a shaky breath. Pain throbbed through her shoulder, blood dripping fast between her fingers.

“Are you hurt?” she whispered to the boy.

He didn’t answer. He was staring behind her, eyes wide with terror.

Lyra turned.

A man stood at the edge of the clearing.

No, not a man.

A shadow shaped like one.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Black hair whipping in the wind as if the forest bowed to him. His eyes glowed molten gold, pupils razor-thin like a predator on the edge of violence.

His chest heaved as if he’d run for miles, but he showed not a single trace of exhaustion.

Only hunger.

Feral hunger.

The stories whispered in taverns flooded her mind instantly.

The Lycan King.

Ares Nightbane.

Monster. Executioner.

The creature born from the Moon’s first blood, older, stronger, faster than any werewolf.

He was staring at her as if she were the only heartbeat in the world. He stepped forward and the earth seemed to tremble.

Lyra winced, forced herself to stand, shoving the child behind her even as pain sliced through her shoulder.

His nostrils flared. He growled.

Deep. Rattling. Inhuman.

The sound sank into her bones, freezing her breath.

“…Mine.”

Lyra’s heart stopped. “W-what?”

Ares moved so fast the world blurred.

One second he stood ten feet away.

The next, he towered directly in front of her.

Her eyes widened at the impossible speed. Lycans were said to cross valleys in minutes, but seeing it up close made her stomach twist. No creature should move like that.

Lyra screamed as his hand slammed against the tree behind her head, trapping her. His other arm locked around her waist, dragging her flush against his chest.

Heat radiated from him like a wildfire. Scorching, unnatural, consuming. Her branch fell from her trembling hand.

He inhaled sharply, nose brushing her throat.

Lyra froze, shivering, weak.

His breath ghosted over her pulse.

A broken, primal groan rumbled from deep in his chest. His fingers tightened on her waist, claws half-extended as if he couldn’t decide whether to hold her closer or tear the world apart.

His lips hovered just above her skin.

“Your scent…” His voice was ragged, almost pained. “Moon curse… it’s you.”

Lyra swallowed hard. “P-please...let the child go. Take me if you want, but....” A savage snarl cut her off.

“I will take you,” he growled, voice low and venomous, “but not because you offer. Because you are mine.”

His teeth grazed her neck. Lyra’s breath hitched. A dizzy mix of fear… and something else. Something hot and terrifying.

He nipped softly at her pulse point, and her knees nearly buckled. His grip tightened, lifting her slightly to keep her pinned.

Then she felt it. Something big, hard, pressing just below her stomach.

Heat shot through her cheeks.

Panic.

Confusion.

Something darker.

Her body refused to move.

Ares’ voice dropped to a whisper against her skin.

“I felt your blood awaken,” he murmured. “A pull I have hunted for years. You don’t know what you are, do you?”

Lyra trembled. “I-I don’t understand...”

“You don’t need to,” he breathed. “Your body knows me.”

“No,” she whispered. “Let me go.”

Ares laughed softly, dark, feral, hungry.

“Little wolf,” he murmured, “I crossed half the kingdom for you. I nearly tore through my own soldiers to reach you. I will not let you go.”

Half the kingdom.

So he didn’t live nearby.

He came… because of her. Because her blood had called to him.

Ares tilted her chin, forcing her to meet his burning eyes.

“If I mark you now,” he whispered, “the bond will consume you.” His hand slid from her waist to her hip, gripping it firmly. “And I am barely holding myself back.”

The child whimpered behind her.

Ares stiffened, nostrils flaring.

“I will not hurt him,” he said lowly. “But he will not take you from me.”

“I’m not yours,” Lyra whispered shakily.

Ares moved. Fast, precise, pressing his forehead against hers, their breaths tangling.

“You are,” he growled. “The Moon chose. My Lycan knows. And every part of me, every thought, every instinct, screams to claim you.”

Lyra’s pulse raced so violently she felt faint. His lips hovered dangerously close to hers.

“Ares…” she whispered.

The name detonated something inside him.

He growled, soft, devastating.

Then suddenly pulled back, chest heaving, muscles trembling.

“If I stay another second,” he rasped, “I will mark you against this tree.”

Lyra’s face burned.

His struggle was real.

Visible.

Terrifying.

Ares snarled at the night sky, then gathered her into his arms.

She gasped. “W-wait!”

He lifted her effortlessly. “You bleed. You’re hurt. You’re coming with me.”

Her fingers pushed weakly against his chest. “Put me down!”

His hold tightened.

“Fight all you want,” he murmured, voice firm and absolute. “I will not let my mate collapse in my arms.”

Mate.

The word shattered something inside her.

The forest grew silent as Ares Nightbane carried her into the darkness, toward a castle hidden in the mountains, one built long before her birth, but waiting for her all the same.

His lips brushed her ear, deep and possessive, “You ran into danger for a child you do not know.”

A pause. A slow, hungry inhale. “That bravery is going to be the death of me, little wolf.”

His voice lowered, dripping heat.

“And I think…”

A breath against her neck.

“…I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”