All Chapters of Blood Of The Moon: Chapter 1 - Chapter 7

The sky had turned to ash.I remember that day with a clarity that haunts my dreams—the day the world ended and something far worse began. The smoke from burning cities painted the heavens in shades of gray and crimson, as if the very sky was bleeding. My mother's hand was cold in mine as we ran through the streets of what used to be New York, now nothing more than a graveyard of twisted metal and crumbling concrete."Don't look back, Elena," she had whispered, her voice cracking with fear she tried desperately to hide from me. "Whatever you do, don't look back."But I looked back. I was only seven years old, and I didn't understand why we were running from the monsters that had suddenly appeared among us. They had been hiding for millennia, the stories would later tell us. Shape-shifters who could take the form of wolves, creatures of nightmare given flesh and bone. They had walked among humans since the dawn of time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.I saw them that day. Mas

I didn't sleep that night.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face—those crimson eyes burning into my soul, that cruel smile playing at the corners of his lips. I heard his voice echoing in my mind, low and silken, promising darkness and pain. I felt his touch on my skin, the way his fingers had traced my jawline like he was memorizing every curve of my face.I lay on the narrow bed, staring at the ceiling, my body rigid with tension. The room was cold, colder than any place I had ever been, and the thin blanket provided little warmth. But I didn't dare ask for more. I didn't dare do anything that might draw his attention.The hours crawled by like centuries. I could hear the distant sounds of the palace settling around me, the creak of old wood, the whisper of wind through ancient stones. Occasionally, I heard footsteps in the corridor outside my door, heavy and deliberate, and my heart would seize in my chest as I waited for them to stop.But they never did. They always passed b

The days that followed were unlike anything I had ever experienced.Lucian—I had to remind myself to call him that, to shed the fear that came with his fearsome title—was attentive in ways I never expected. He ensured I had proper meals, warm clothes, a comfortable place to sleep. He didn't demand my time, but he sought it out, finding excuses to have me near him.It was confusing. Disorienting. Everything I had been taught about Lycans, about him, told me this was a trick. A manipulation designed to lower my defenses so he could strike when I least expected it.But he never struck.Instead, he talked. He told me about his childhood, about a world before the invasion that had been filled with beauty and wonder. He told me about his mother, a gentle woman who had been killed when he was barely more than a child. He told me about the rage that had consumed him, the darkness that had taken root in his soul."I was fifteen when she died," he said one evening, his voice flat and distant. "

I sank down onto the bed, my tears falling freely. The room was cold, despite the fire crackling in the hearth. Or maybe the cold was coming from inside me, from the hollow ache that had taken up residence in my chest since Lucian had left. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to summon warmth that wouldn't come. Tatiana was dead. The words echoed in my mind, a cruel refrain that I couldn't escape. My only friend, the woman who had been more family to me than anyone else in this world, was gone. Murdered by Thorne because of me. Because she had tried to help me escape. Because she had loved me. I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to stop the tears that wouldn't stop flowing. But they kept coming, hot and relentless, soaking my hands, my cheeks, the thin fabric of my dress. I should have been used to this by now. Loss was a constant companion in this world, an old friend that visited too often. I had lost my parents, my home, my freedom. I had lost friends before, had