Chapter 1: The Alphas Eyes

You know what you must do. Go now. And DO NOT come back till it is done.

Lyra

The moon was full. Too bright. Too hungry.

Lyra Vale moved like she belonged to the forest, but tonight, the woods didn’t want her there. The trees whispered, and the shadows scattered along the ground like something was watching. Waiting. Like hunger needs satisfaction.

She didn’t care.

She wasn’t afraid of things that stalked or went bump in the dark.

Her cloak puffed out  around her legs as she followed the narrow, root-choked path out of Black Hollow. Most people stayed indoors during a full moon. But Lyra wasn’t like most people. She never had been.

The air was thick with the scent of pine, moss—and something else.

…Smoke. Fur. Heat.

She stopped walking.

Her fingers ghosted toward her satchel, where a vial of wolfsbane pressed against her palm like a promise. Her heart pounding, but her steps stayed steady.

She could feel him before she saw him.

A shift in the air. With a weight pressing down on her skin. Then, out of the trees, he emerged—like the forest had spit him out. Tall. Shadowed. Made of angles and sin.

And those eyes.

Burning gold. Like the moon had bled into them.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t speak. He just watched her.

“You plan to keep staring?” she asked, voice cold, steady.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “You don’t smell like the rest of them.”

“Good,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to.”

His eyes narrowed, flicking over her like he studied every weakness she had. “What are you doing out here, witch?”

That word. It hit like a slap to the face—but she didn’t flinch.

“I could ask you the same, Alpha.”

The moment she said it, his entire posture changed. Slight tilt of the head. Muscles tight beneath dark clothes. Tension rolled off him like waves of heat.

“Not many people say that word with such… disrespect,” he said softly.

“I’m not most people.”

“No,” he murmured. “You’re not.”

He took a step closer. She didn’t move.

There was something feral in the way he looked at her—like he was sizing up prey, but couldn’t decide if he wanted to devour her or fight her.

She was ready either way.

“Name,” he demanded.

“You first,” she snapped

He smiled. Sharp. Dangerous. Beautiful, in the way knives were.

“Ronan Thorne. Alpha of the Black Hollow Pack.”

Her pulse jumped, just for a second. She’d heard the name. Everyone had. Ruthless. Unchallenged. Cursed.

“Lyra Vale,” she answered. “Apothecary. Herbalist. Not interested in your pack bullshit.”

“Shame,” he said. “You’d make a hell of a wolf.” He smiled slyly.

“Careful,” she said, stepping past him. “You might choke on whatever fantasy you’re conjuring in that pretty little head of yours.”

He caught her wrist. Not hard—but firm. Commanding.

She stopped.

His voice dropped to a growl. “There’s something in your blood. I can smell it. Magic. Power. Fire.”

“Then let go before you get burned.”

They stared at each other. Locked in something that felt like war,--or maybe reverence.

Then he released her.

“Be careful in these woods,” he said. “There are worse things than me out here.”

Lyra smirked.

“I doubt it.”

She turned and walked away.

But the forest still whispered. And behind her, she knew Ronan Thorne was still watching—with golden eyes that promised havoc.

—-Ronans POV—-

The second she turned her back, he wanted to chase.

It wasn’t instinct. It was temptation.

That woman. That witch. That defiant little flame in the woods—she smelled like danger wrapped in desire.

Lyra Vale.

Her name was wildfire in his mouth. Untamed. Unclaimed. Untainted.

He watched her disappear into the trees, her hips swaying like a dare. Every fiber of his wolf strained to follow, to press her to the forest floor, to sink his teeth into the skin and mark her.

But that wasn’t what this was. Not yet.

She was a threat. Her scent was wrong—half-wolf, half something older. Something cold. Something laced in the kind of power that didn’t belong to his world.

He should’ve ended it. Right then. One snap of the neck. One pull of the claws. It was his duty.

But when he touched her…

The bond stirred.

It was a faint flicker. But real.

He hadn’t thought about it since the curse.

And now his bond, it picked her?

No. The gods wouldn’t be that cruel.

Or maybe they would. After all, wasn’t that what the prophecy promised him?

When the cursed Alpha finds his equal, blood will bind them—and break them.

He clenched his fists. The ache in his jaw told him he was gritting his teeth, but he didn’t stop.

Lyra had looked at him like she wasn’t afraid. Like she was waiting for him to make the first move so she could end him.

That alone should have thrilled him.

Instead—it fucked with him.

Because she didn’t know it yet.

Didn’t know what she’d awakened.

Didn’t know that he’d been dreaming of silver eyes and fire-slick skin for months before she ever walked into his woods.

She was the beginning of the end. His end.

His curse made flesh.

And gods help them both, he was already addicted. Temptation was knocking.