Lunar Blessed

The moon felt off tonight.

Pulling the camera closer, Tamara squinted, trying to pinpoint what bugged her. 

The full moon hung heavy and bright over Millbrook Community College, turning the sleepy New York town into a stage. Awesome for her photo project, but it gave her the creeps, like the air before a storm.

“Just snap the pic, dummy,” she muttered, fiddling with the focus ring. Her breath puffed out little clouds in the chilly October air. Colder than usual, even for upstate. 

Looking through the lens, she felt like the moon was watching her back.

*Click.*

The flash blinded her. 

“Crap!” Her heart did a drum solo as she checked the screen. Just a black screen; she'd spacing out and forgot to turn off the flash for night shots. Again.

“Way to go, Tam,” she sighed, fixing the settings.

Her phone buzzed. Jess, her roommate, had texted: *Where are you?? The party at Delta house is jumping!*

Tamara texted back: *Shooting the moon for Porter's class. Will be there.*

Three dots popped up instantly. *Nerd. Jake's been asking about you ;)*

Tamara rolled her eyes but smiled. Jake, from bio class, had been all over her for weeks. A nice guy from Albany, plays lacrosse, always opens doors. Total catch for a nineteen-year-old.

So why did she have these dreams about these golden eyes looked nothing like his?

She shook it off and lifted the camera. Five moon shots were due Monday, and she had zero. It was Friday night, and while everyone was partying, she was alone with her camera in the empty campus quad.

The dream barged in. Golden eyes in the dark. A voice calling her, but not quite her name—something older, making her heart ache. The same dream over and over, waking up with a tear-soaked pillow every time.

“Focus,” she told herself, adjusting the tripod.

The quad was super still. Dead silent for a Friday night at college. Usually, music thumped from the dorms, drunk kids laughed, and cars zoomed down Route 44 toward the bars. 

Tonight? Nothing. Even the October wind had ditched her coming down from the Catskills.

Looking through the lens, she spotted something. A mark on the moon—a thin dark line, like a crack. “Had that always been there?”

Her finger hovered over the button when she caught movement. Not in the sky—in her lens's reflection. Something was behind her.

She spun around. The quad stretched out empty under the streetlights, with autumn leaves all over the place. But past the lights, where the woods started, the dark seemed too thick. Too alive.

A branch snapped. Like something heavy moving.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded squeaky. “Campus security?”

Nada. Then she smelled it—wet dog and old pennies. Her stomach lurched with a weird sense of knowing. That smell meant danger. Time to bolt.

Without thinking, she shoved her camera in its bag, fumbling with the tripod. Every nerve told her to get out. Now.

She walked toward the lit path to the dorms, trying not to run. The parking lot was closer, but she parked her Honda in the creepy corner to avoid dents. The dorm meant people. Safety.

Footsteps echoed behind her. No attempt to hide.

Tamara picked up the pace, her breath coming fast. The dorm building glowed ahead, windows full of people, life. 

Fifty feet… Forty…

The footsteps sped up. She ran, the camera bag smacking her hip. Her sneakers pounded the pavement. Almost there, almost—

Something grabbed her bag and yanked her back. She hit the ground hard, scraping her palms. A man stood over her when she rolled over. But his shadow was wrong—too big, moving separately.

You smell like her, he said, his voice sounding like three people at once. Like Elena.

“I don't—I don't know any Elena,” Tamara gasped, backing away on her bleeding hands.

The man tilted his head, and his eyes flashed gold in the moonlight. Just like in her dreams. But these eyes were cold. Hungry.

“Liar,” he said softly. “You smell exactly like your mother.”

*Mother* hit her like a punch. Her mom was Elena Gray. But this guy—this thing—couldn't know that. Her mom passed when Tamara was seven. A car crash on Route 9. Nothing to do with golden eyes and messed-up shadows.

The man stepped closer, and his shadow turned into something on four legs with way too many teeth.

“She hid you well,” he said. But the moon is calling its children home. “And you, little light, have been lost for too long.”

He reached for her, and Tamara did the only thing she could think of. She grabbed her camera and swung it at his head. It connected with a satisfying crack.

The man didn't even blink. But where the camera hit him, silver light burst out. He jerked back with a growl mixed with pain.

Tamara stared at her hands. Tiny silver threads danced between her fingers before vanishing.

“Impossible,” the man breathed. His lips twisted into a smile or something else entirely. “The bloodline isn't dead after all.”

Shadows shifted in the tree line behind him. More golden eyes in the dark. Some up high, some down low.

“Marcus,” a new voice called from the dark. Deeper. More dangerous. “What did you find?”

Marcus stepped back. “You need to see this, Alpha.”

Alpha? she thought. That's a wolf thing. Pack leader. Nature documentary shows, not—

Someone stepped out of the shadows, and Tamara gasped.

He was gorgeous, almost painfully so. Tall, dark hair highlighted in the moonlight, and golden eyes like melted honey. Maybe twenty-five, but he moved like he was ancient. When he looked at her, some deep connection yanked on her chest.

“No,” he whispered, sounding genuinely shocked. “It can't be.”

He moved closer, too fast, too smooth, not quite human. Tamara tried to move back, but she was frozen. Her body screamed two things: *Run* and *Stay*.

He knelt beside her, smelling like pine and rain and something wild. What's your name?

“T-Tamara,” she blurted.

His eyes widened. “Tamara Gray. Elena Gray's daughter.” It wasn't a question.

“How do you—”

“I've been searching you for twelve years,” he said quietly. He reached for her face, and she couldn't move, couldn't breathe. “Because you're—”

A howl split the night. Not from the forest. From town.

The man's head snapped up. “They're here. The Hunters found us.”

“Kai,” Marcus said urgently. “We need to go. If they catch her scent—”

Kai—so that was his name—looked back. For a second, he looked pained. “I'm sorry. This wasn't supposed to go like this.”

“What's supposed to happen?” Tamara asked.

He grabbed her hand, and where they made hit, silver light exploded, brighter than before. Instead of hurting him, his eyes went wide with wonder and a bit of fear.

“No time to explain. He pulled her up. You need to come with us. Now.”

“I'm not going anywhere with—”

The sound of engines blew from the road. Headlights swept the quad. Too bright, almost blue-white, like spotlights.

“Run,” Kai said, and his voice made her legs move on their own.

They ran toward the forest, Marcus in front, Kai beside her, his hand locked on hers. Car doors slammed. Voices yelled. Then guns loaded.

“What's going on?” she gasped as they reached the trees.

“War,” Kai said grimly. “And you just became the prize.”

They plunged into the dark. Someone screamed behind them. A gunshot. Then another.

Kai yanked her behind a huge oak, crushing her against the bark. He protected her. His canine teeth looked too long, too sharp.

“Listen closely,” he whispered. “You're about to see wild stuff. Trust me.”

“Trust you? I don't even know—”

A growl rumbled in his chest. Not human. His eyes flashed brighter. “You do know me, Tamara. Your soul knows mine. You've been dreaming of me, right?’

Her heart stopped. She had been. Every night. Golden eyes calling.

“How did you—”

“I've been dreaming of you too, he said softly. My mate.”

Before she could make sense of that, Marcus burst through the trees. Only it wasn't Marcus anymore. It was a huge wolf, black as night, with gold eyes.

Tamara opened her mouth to scream.

Kai's hand covered her mouth. “Welcome to the real world, little moon.”

More wolves oozed from the shadows. They all looked at her.

A gunshot cracked. The tree next to them splintered.

“Down!” Kai shoved her as something whizzed over her head. Silver bullets, her mind whispered.

When she looked up, Kai transformed. His body rippled, bones cracking and bending.

The last thing she made before everything went crazy was Kai's human face turning into the wolf from her dreams.

Then the forest erupted in violence, and Tamara knew her old life was dead.

Because she glowed. Silver light poured from her skin like she'd swallowed the moon.

And every wolf stared at her.

With recognition that looked like reverence.

Or Hunger.