Blue Crescent Moon
The scent of smoke thickened, drifting through the trees like a warning. Lilith’s muscles tensed, her claws still half-extended from training. Her heart thundered—not with fear, but with the instinct to run, fight, kill.
Nathan held up a hand, silencing her. His eyes burned crimson in the fading light as he crouched low, nostrils flaring.
“Three of them,” he whispered. “Downwind. Moving fast.”
Lilith strained her senses. At first, all she caught was the acrid smoke curling in the air. But then… faint footsteps crunching through leaves. The metallic tang of silver. And—her stomach twisted—the sharp, oily scent of wolfsbane.
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