Chapter 1

The snow bit through her torn shirt like a thousand tiny needles.

Elena Vance dragged her broken body across the frozen ground, one bleeding hand in front of the other. Her knees scraped against ice-crusted rocks. Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps that fogged the air and froze on her cracked lips. Behind her, a trail of crimson stained the white drifts of blood from her nose, her ears, and the gash on her forehead where the guard's boot had connected.

The pack bond was gone.

She felt the absence like a hollowed-out cavity in her chest, raw and weeping. Twenty-three years of connection to the Silvermoon wolves, ripped out by the roots an hour ago. Alpha Brandon's voice still echoed in her skull, each word a fresh wound.

"I, Alpha Brandon of the Silvermoon Pack, reject you, Elena Vance, as my mate and future Luna. You are weak, packless, and you will never rule by my side."

She screamed. She had begged. She had watched his blue eyes go cold as he severed the fated bond with surgical cruelty. Beta Cynthia had smirked. Her stepfather Garret had laughed. And then the guards had dragged her through the snow and thrown her across the border like garbage.

"Don't come back," the guard had sneered. "Or we'll kill you."

Elena pressed her palm into the ice and heaved herself forward another foot. Her fingers were turning blue. The blizzard howled around her, whipping her dark hair across her face, stealing the heat from her bones. Her inner wolf, the beast she had starved and suppressed for years, whimpered weakly in her chest.

I can't die here. I won't. Not like this.

A jagged rock formation loomed ahead, half-hidden by hanging icicles that glittered like fangs. A cave entrance. Elena crawled toward it, her vision blurring at the edges, her muscles screaming. She pulled herself over the threshold and collapsed onto damp stone, gasping.

Darkness swallowed her.

Then she felt it.

Heat.

Not the warmth of a fire. Something deeper. Something ancient and feral. It rolled off the cave walls in waves, thick and suffocating, making her lungs ache. Her wolf stirred, ears pricking, hackles rising.

Danger. Run.

But Elena had nowhere to run. She was dying.

She forced herself upright, her trembling hands braced against the cave wall. The heat grew stronger as she stumbled deeper, following it like a moth to a flame. Her bare feet slipped on ice. Her torn dress offered no protection. And then she rounded a corner and saw him.

A man. No—a monster.

He was massive, easily six and a half feet of raw muscle sprawled against the far wall like a fallen god. His chest was bare, carved with scars and covered in glowing silver tribal tattoos that pulsed with every labored breath. His face was hidden behind a crude leather mask, but his eyes God, his eyes burned like molten black coals, fixed on her with predatory intensity.

He was in heat. Feral heat. The kind that only hit Lycan royalty once a century.

Elena knew the old stories. Lycans were the nightmares that standard werewolves whispered about around campfires. Bigger. Older. Stronger. When a Lycan King went into his centennial heat, he needed a mate to survive. If he didn't find one, he burned alive from the inside out.

The masked stranger snarled, his elongated fangs glistening with saliva. His hand shot out and wrapped around her ankle, yanking her across the stone floor. Elena hit the ground hard, the air driven from her lungs.

"Don't—" she choked.

But she stopped fighting.

Because her wolf recognized him.

Mate. Fated. Forever.

The word exploded in her skull like a firework. Her broken, starved wolf surged forward, howling with desperate recognition. The masked Lycan pulled her into his lap, his claws grazing her waist. His heat wrapped around her like a living thing, searing her skin through her tattered clothes.

Elena made a decision.

She bit him first.

She sank her dull human teeth into the curve of his neck, tasting copper and salt and something ancient and wild. He roared—a sound that shook the cave walls, sending icicles crashing to the ground and then he flipped her onto her back.

His eyes met hers. Feral. Hungry. Triumphant.

"Finally," he growled, his voice scraping like gravel against her raw nerves. "I've been waiting."

Then the world exploded.

His lips found her throat, his fangs grazing the sensitive skin where her pulse hammered. His hands roamed her body, possessive and bruising. The bond snapped into place between them unbreakable, permanent, electric. Her wolf howled with joy even as her human mind screamed in terror.

Hours passed. Or minutes. Time meant nothing in the heat of the cave.

Elena felt his knot lock inside her, felt the scorching heat of his seed flood her womb, and she screamed his name though she didn't know it. He answered with a growl that vibrated through her bones, claiming her over and over until dawn crept into the cave, pale and cold.

When morning arrived, Elena woke.

Her body ached. Bruises painted her skin like dark flowers. Her thighs were slick with blood and other fluids. But her wolf was purring, satisfied, warm, and claimed.

She looked at the sleeping Lycan beside her. His mask had slipped slightly, revealing a sharp jawline dusted with stubble and dark lashes that fanned against high cheekbones. He looked younger in sleep. Almost human. Almost beautiful.

He marked you. He bonded you. You are his.

Elena's stomach turned. She was a nobody. An omega reject. A packless stray. If he woke and realized what he had done that he had mated a worthless nobody he would kill her. Or worse, he would enslave her. Use her. Break her the way Brandon had broken her.

She scrambled to her feet, her legs trembling, her core throbbing with every heartbeat. Her eyes caught the glint of something silver around his neck. A pendant. A crescent moon, etched with royal symbols that gleamed in the pale light.

Without thinking, she reached down and snapped the chain. The pendant fell into her palm, warm and heavy. She shoved it into the pocket of her torn dress and ran.

She ran through the cave, her bare feet slapping against cold stone. She ran out into the blinding white dawn, her lungs burning, her legs screaming. She ran until she reached the treeline at the edge of the Neutral Zone.

And then she stopped.

Because she felt his eyes on her back.

Slowly, she turned.

The masked Lycan stood at the entrance of the cave, his massive arms crossed over his bare chest. His head was tilted, his glowing black eyes fixed on her with predatory amusement. He wasn't chasing her. He wasn't roaring with rage.

He was letting her go.

His lips curled into a slow, terrifying smirk. And his voice slithered into her skull through the new bond deep, dark, utterly certain.

"Run, little wolf. I'll find you."

Elena turned and fled into the forest, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

She had escaped the Lycan King.

But he had marked her soul.

And he was hunting.