Haile is the Alpha’s daughter and next in line to become the Luna of the Blue Moon Pack. Until she meets her mate: Alpha Ares, leader of the enemy pack and the man Haile hates. Used as a pawn for peace, Haile is sent to live with Ares. What will happen when the mate bond pushes them together? Will Haile fall for the cruel Alpha Ares, or will she soften his dark side?
View MoreI could smell blood in the air. It hung thick in the barren clearing, curdling in the pervasive heat. The slash of claws and the ring of bone against bone shuddered through the space, rolling in hard waves against the trees.
Sweat rolled down my back, matting my wolven fur. My lips pulled back from my teeth in a snarl, and I eyed the Winterpaw Warrior wolves, our deadliest, cruellest enemies, with sheer, seething hatred. They were everything my pack, my parents’ pack, were not.
And then I was moving, hurtling through the undergrowth in a flash of grey and black and white. It was hard to pick out enemies even in the thin cover the smattering of trees provided when everything I saw was painted in shades of grey. I focused on texture, hunting for a ripple of muscle or a shift of fur. I sniffed, hard. I despised the smell of blood, despised the truth of death that clung to its scent, but I needed it if the Blue Moon Pack were to have any chance of surviving this.
Until I met my fated mate, I was cursed to see the world in black and white. It was the same for all werewolves – but that didn’t make it any easier to bear. I ached to see the world in colour, to see the sunrises that broke across the dawn. I wanted to see my family, truly see them, to know their faces as well as they knew mine.
And, sometimes even more than that, I wanted to feel the pure love of the mate bond. It was a quiet desire, one shoved aside by my duty to my pack, but it was ever-present.I followed the curve of the clearing, darting alongside the main formation of the battle to pick off stragglers. We knew Winterpaw all too well, now; they attacked our pack regularly, unhappy with our luck – and theirs – in the terms of a treaty written hundreds of years ago. This meant we knew how they fought, and of their penchant to hide their most skilled warriors just out of sight. I was the best young fighter in the pack so, greyscale vision or not, it was down to me to pick off Winterpaw’s best.
‘Haile,’ Mum called through our mindlink.
Years of experience made it easy to pick her out amongst the swathes of black and white wolves tearing and clawing at one another on the battlefield. She had a distinctive white patch on the centre of her forehead, which Dad had told me was actually a very pale shade of rust-toned red. As Alpha and Luna of our pack, my parents both stood a good half a foot taller than the other wolves, too – a trait which carried over to their, and my, human forms as well.
‘Yes?’ I shot back, paws skidding in the dry dirt to narrowly avoid smacking into a tree. I nearly added that I was a little busy, but I didn’t want to deal with being chided after the battle was won. I swallowed. That was the only outcome I could envision.
‘On your left.’
I turned. My eyes widened. A wolf lunged at me, black as night and canines stained dark. Those teeth dug deep into the fur and skin of my neck. I yanked free, spitting a hiss through my teeth, my blood hot as it pooled and seeped from the wound. I roared.
Rising to my full height, I let the now-cowering wolf see every facet of my rage. I saw my reflection in their black, shining eye: a dark shade of grey against the black, glowing in the bright sunlight as though my fury had been made manifest as shrouding fire. One quick snap of my jaws and the wolf was down, writhing on the ground. I took no pleasure in it, but I was the daughter of the Alpha and Luna of the Blue Moon Pack. Protecting our wolves was my duty – and that meant fighting our enemies.
‘A little more warning next time would be great.’ There was no malice in my words – only heady, searing relief.
‘I’ll keep that in mind.’
My mouth hung open in a wolfish grin. I licked my lips, wincing at the taste of blood. I spat.
Only to be knocked sideways by a scrawny, snappy wolf. It looked white to me, with the shining, wet darkness that I knew to be blood marring its shoulder and chest. It wobbled unsteadily, and I recognised her as our youngest Warrior Wolf. I glanced around nervously, scanning the sparse trees for movement.
‘Elena!’ I mindlinked, panic making my tone sharper than intended. ‘Get back to the others.’
She stumbled. I looked around again, seeing only the ruffle of grey leaves against the paler grey sky. The battle wore on in the centre of the clearing, a heaving mess of blood-slick fur and saliva-wet canines. Would she be safer here? Or there?
Mum would leave her. Dad would help her. Quick and decisive, I nudged her with my snout and shoved her back towards the rest of the pack. On trembling legs she broke into a jog, wincing every time her weight fell on the side of her injured shoulder. I followed her into the heart of the battle.
The metallic stench of blood hung thick and heavy in the air. The dry earth crumbled beneath my paws as I pounced, turning and swiping and slashing my way through row after row of enemy wolves. Another wolf fell into step with me; this one I recognised easily as Blue Moon’s Young Beta, Etta – and my best friend.
‘Glad to see you’re still alive,’ I mindlinked dryly, even as relief twisted my heart.
She tore a chunk of flesh from a prone neck, pausing to spit it out before replying with a huff. ‘As if I wouldn’t be.’
We clawed and tore and ripped our way through the frontlines of the battlefield. Hope sunk like an anchor in my chest. I had never before worried that we would be forced to submit. It was always the Winterpaw Warrior Pack that would slither away, running with their tails between their legs back to their frozen, mountainous territory – only to begin plotting their next attack.
But our numbers had depleted, and they had only grown stronger in their misled rage. For the first time, I feared that Blue Moon would have to bend to their will if we wanted to live to see another day. Fear tried to choke me, but I trampled it down. I would wake, and I would rise, and, one day, I would see the sunrise in colour with my mate by my side.
The burning pain of the tear in my own neck spurned me on. My pack meant everything to me. I would not see them fall. Not like this.
And then more wolves – wolves I did not recognise, wolves fighting for Winterpaw, not for us – spilled into the clearing. We were outnumbered three, if not four, to one. My hope turned to despair, but still I fought on. I kept my focus on one wolf at a time, giving my all to each individual battle. I smelt the blood all around, felt the heat of it blurring with the sun. I ignored it. I became nothing but a flash of fur and eyes and claws and teeth, drawing what little hope I could from every enemy wolf that fell.
We were surrounded on all sides. The blur of grey was dark with blood, dark with torn flesh and spattered gore, but worse than that was the predatory way the Winterpaw wolves circled around us like sharks.
We were outnumbered. We were surrounded. My heart was in my throat; I could feel its every thud, feel the heat burning through my skin. I stared at the wolves, my wolves, behind me desperately. I would give my life for any one of theirs in a heartbeat, but I had no way to do so.
‘Fall back!’ Dad’s voice cried. It rung in my ears, and I was sure the mindlink had been sent to every member of our pack. I could not see him amongst the muddle of black and white and grey. My breaths came fast and shallow. Where was he? Was he injured? Was he safe?
Then claws dug into the muscle banding my front leg. It ripped clean through my shoulder, catching on the fold of skin where it became my foreleg and yanking straight through it. Nausea rose in my throat. I swung, growling, desperate. Etta took down the culpable wolf with a swift swipe of her own claws, a half-second too late. I limped forward, locking my jaw against the waves of red-hot pain.
I was so focused on the shuddering pain that, when the sky no longer looked white-grey, and when the wolves in front of me became more distinctive, distinguished in new ways from one another, I did not entirely realise. I still snarled and snapped and, leaning heavily on my good leg, hobbled further into enemy lines. I could not fall back as my father wished. I was too far forward. I had to protect those that could.
Suddenly it struck me, as hard and fast as any blow.
I could see in colour.
My mate was here.One year later I smoothed my hands down over my thick cloak. Nerves swarmed in my belly: not the dizzying kind that made me feel faint, but the sort that cast a hazy glow over everything as I walked along the winding woodland pathway. Torches flickered every few feet; orange roses of light bloomed across the mossy, dew-damp earth beneath my boots. “Nervous?” asked Dad. “A little.” I worried my bottom lip between my teeth. “It’s silly, I know. There’s nothing to be nervous about. I’ve been his Luna for the last year – longer, really – but this feels…” I trailed off, unsure how to word exactly how it felt. Official? Real? “It’s been such a long time coming, sweetheart.” “Yeah. Part of me wishes we’d done this straight after the battle, but it made sense to wait until the pack was remade.” Unable to help myself, a grin pushed hard at my cheeks. Everything looked beautiful today, I thought, the pine trees bottle-green beneath the golden setting sun. Everything was glazed with the
As everyone took their seats, Ares and I remained standing. I clutched at his hand: it was a physical reminder to everyone there that we were joined, that Winterpaw Warrior and Blue Moon were enemies no longer.I glanced at Ares, letting him take the lead. He swallowed, straightened his shoulders, and then smiled hesitantly around at everyone. The expression looked strange, uncertain, and it took me a moment to realise why. Ares never smiled at people when he addressed them. He led through fear and control. Not anymore, it seemed. My heart swelled.“Thank you all for coming,” he said, projecting his voice clearly and confidently across the room. “Luna Sienna and Alpha Rodriguez, of the Firepaw Pack.” He inclined his head at the dark-skinned woman my dad had been talking to before, and the bald-headed, well-muscled man sat beside her. They were both older than us by about fifteen years.The Alpha and Luna of the Storm Guardian Pack were older still, well into their fifties, their face
Ares had given Dad the nicest of the Warrior Wolves’ cabins to stay in. When we arrived, Ares’s arm still latched securely around my waist as it had been every single step of the way, I saw two other familiar faces peering out at us through the window, their creased faces crinkling with smiles so wide I half feared their tissue paper skin might tear.The wind whipped between the cabins, making my eyes and cheeks sting. Dawn had long since settled across the horizon, pale pink fading into the usual white-grey cloud cover. Everything looked strange out here, unreal in a way I couldn’t quite process. I clutched at Ares, suddenly apprehensive as dad moved to let us in.My nerves dissolved as soon as set foot inside. We were both pulled into an embrace on all sides, many arms winding around us and holding us close.“You did it,” Nana Baspy whispered.I scoffed and, after another long moment, I pulled away. “I don’t think I can take any of the credit, Nana. I wasn’t even conscious for half
The world shattered. For a time, it was nothing more than a series of fragmented images and distant, distorted sounds. I heard screaming, felt the tell-tale burning in my throat, but I couldn’t connect the noise to me. I was weightless, without a body, and then there was nothing but silent darkness.Words I couldn’t understand split apart the quiet. “It’s the other packs,” someone said excitedly. I recognised the voice, familiar enough but not someone I was close to. A hazy, half-formed image of a missing hand and foot beneath determined eyes and wispy blonde hair floated just out of reach, and I gave up trying to identify the mystery voice as they spoke. “Firepaw and Storm Guardian. They made it just in time. We did it! We survived.”No, we didn’t, I thought bitterly. Not all of us.“It’s not over yet.” That growl, gravel and honey – that was Ares. Something in me settled. But why had he shifted into his human body? That thought, along with all my others, drifted away, becoming nothi
We were all so focused on Aliana that none of us heard the quiet tap-tap-tap of claws pacing the stone hallways of the Pack House behind us.And then Scillian smiled. Behind him, the Sable Stalker Alpha and Luna smirked, too, a cruel hook of their lips that made my blood boil; off to the side slightly, Bloodpelt Prowler’s Alpha grinned toothily. They were all so smug, so sure of themselves. So sure that they’d won.“What is this?” Dad asked flatly.“Oh, this?” Scillian brightened impossibly further as he gestured to Aliana. “A game.”“You wouldn’t hurt your own daughter.” Dad sounded less convinced about that than he had a minute ago. “Let her go, and let the battle recommence.”“My daughter is a traitor. And, worse than that: she was running from a fight.” Scillian scoffed. I watched his face closely as he walked, every stride slow and purposeful, towards Aliana. He caressed her cheek, but I looked beyond that. I searched out his eyes through the snowfall, and I found only adoration
I knew, deep down, that this was my last hurrah. I knew, deep down, that if it were not, I would’ve let the pain and the shock hold me back from fighting one last time. My body was weak, but I would not succumb to its needs. This was no ordinary battle, and I had never been one to give up.I felt the pain and let it make me stronger. Adrenaline surged through my veins. I would fight by my mate’s side, and I would try to make it mean something. That was all I could do, now.We neared the Pack House. The tension surrounding it was thick with foreboding; the stillness of the battlefield was somehow worse than when the air had been metallic with spilled blood and the snow melting from the heat of the felled bodies upon it. Now, fresh snow dusted the blood soaked fur of the dead, masking the worst of the atrocities that had been marked upon the land in stark pools of red.Everything was calm. Everything was quiet. Some dark premonition made the back of my neck crawl with the sense that, at
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