The night was like iron and soot, with a heavy metallic smell of blood. Above the forest was a blood moon shining down a crimson carpet on the entire world. Its glow became the pyre for shadows and screams on a battlefield where centuries of hatred between fangs and fur have exploded in chaos.

Moving through blood, Lucian Duskbane glided like a shadow. The cloak swirled behind him, grazing the corpses while his pale skin glowed beneath the moonlight; Lucian's lips still tasted of blood, but that hunger burned hotter now, deeper than thirst. He was not searching for prey tonight; he sought something that he could not name.

And then he spotted him.

The wolf.

Battle-cleaved shoulders muscled through the fray. Golden eyes glared with wild fury, sharp as daggers in the firelight. The wolf's chest heaved and fell to the rhythm of battle, every muscle taut with the strength of the Alpha. His claws did not balk from rending Lucian's kin, blood streaking down his bare arms and sweat staining the skin of a body wrought with storm.

Lucian should have hated him. Should have longed to sink his fangs into that throat and rip out the life pulsing beneath the skin. But instead, his body betrayed him.

An urge. A craving. Not for blood. Not this time.

Their eyes met across the battlefield. It was supposed to be an enemy glare. But then, the air thickened, crackling with the electricity of a lightning bolt darting between them.

Lucian smiled, slow and wicked, for he wanted to see how the wolf would respond to danger smiling rather than snarling.

The wolf growled low and warning, though his gaze did not waver. And that was enough for Lucian.

He went flying in a blur toward the wolf, shadows contorting in his path. Claws retracted, fangs gleamed, and the two slammed together, shaking the earth. Predator against predator, power against power, but even far more igniting than war within two was the heat of their bodies.

The wolf roared, trying to additionally force Lucian back, but Lucian elegantly twisted away. His hand shot out, fastening onto the wolf's wrist, and in a quick move, he shoved him up against the rough bark of an ancient oak.

Their chests ground miles apart; friction and heat began erasing space in between them. Breath clashed with breath, mingling with sweat and blood, while the battlefield fell out of relevance.

“Let me go,” said the wolf, snarling and baring his teeth, the very tone quaking with fury. But beneath the growl was something more. Something uncertain.

Lucian inched closer, lips brushing against the apex of the wolf’s ear. His voice turned silken, smooth as black ice.

“Tell me, wolf… why does your heart race when I touch you?”

The wolf went rigid.

Claws dug into Lucian’s chest, sharp enough to draw blood but he didn’t brush him off. His whole being convulsed instead in betrayal. The scent off him was wild, earthy, raw with a potent intoxication. Lucian wanted to drown in it.

“Because you’re poison,” the wolf spat through clenched teeth.

Lucian chuckled. It was low and dangerous, curling around them like smoke. He let his lips trail down toward the wolf’s neck, where he felt the heat of the wolf's pulse thrumming away.

“Then taste me.”

Time tore. Silence engulfed the battlefield. There were no screams, no steel, no blood, just them. Just a shiver up Kael's spine as Lucian's breath glided over his skin.

The wolf's golden orbs flared with fire as fury and hunger intersected within him.

Lucian inclined his head, fangs brushing against the wolf's neck. He didn't bite. He delayed. Pressed his mouth against that tender skin, languidly, deliberately, relishing how Kael's body shivered.

The wolf drew a sharply indrawn breath, his claws loosening so that Lucian could hear his heartbeat—thundering under Lucian's mouth.

Temptation tasted sweeter than any blood.

“Say it,” Lucian whispered, his lips grazing Kael's throat, caressing softly, teasing.

“Say you want this.”

The wolf’s chest heaved. His lips parted, and for the first time, he stopped looking like an enemy and looked like a man caught on fire.

Lucian savored the tension, pressing his fangs against the spot where Kael's heart thundered.

One single word would dethrone the world.

But just then—

“Kael!”

The shout incised the night like a razor blade.

The wolf jerked back, eyes flashing, his body suddenly tensed. His name echoed across the battlefield, woven with urgency and warning.

Kael. Now that is his name. Lucian tasted it in his mouth, like a secret—a promise.

The moment cracked, breaking into a million shards. Kael was twisting in furious conflict, wrestling with the raging desire that coursed through him. He should have killed Lucian on the spot, should have taken back his life; instead, he found himself hesitating.

Lucian stepped back, slowly, methodically, without breaking their eye contact. He allowed a smile to twist across his face, his fangs glinting under the blood moon.

“Until next time, Kael.”

And he was gone, into the night, shadows swallowing him whole.

Kael stood frozen against the tree, chest heaving, claws still trembling at his sides. His body burned where the vampire had touched him. His throat still tingled where fangs had hovered, where lips had lingered.

His hand pressed against that spot, his pulse racing out of control.

He should hate himself for it. Should rip the memory out, bury it under rage.

But all he could think about was the heat of Lucian's mouth, the whisper of his words, the hunger that had danced in his smile.

And the terrifying truth, for the first time in his life, that he was not sure if he wanted to kill his enemy or taste him under the next blood moon again.

It was the night that first hummed around him on waking, as if the taste of fangs and forbidden heat remained on his lips. He had vowed not to think about it, that it was nothing but hunger and a very dangerous lapse in judgment, but his body betrayed him. Every nerve cried out for the vampire's touch. His wolf howled in protest, but the heart brazenly whispered that truth: he wanted more.

The city was stirring beneath a dawn bleeding itself with rain, the streets of the city washed with the stuff. But inside the penthouse, it was all quiet-- too quiet. He could still smell him, a faint trace of cold stone and dark roses on the sheets. There was a mark burned on his throat where teeth had grazed skin: shallow enough to hide, deep enough to forget.

He brushed over it, quickening his pulse. The memory came unbidden: the press of a body that should have been his enemy, the way pleasure got tangled with pain till he didn't quite know where it ended and desire began. It was wrong. It was reckless. It was already too late.

The knock on the door was sharp, impatient, dragging him from the haze. He stood up straight and pushed the wolf down, concealing the wild hunger that threatened to spill. "Enter," he growled; Alpha in him slipped back like second skin.

His Beta stormed in, eyes sharp, nostrils flaring. "You stink of vampire," he said, voice low and dangerous. "Tell me I'm wrong."

Silence ruled for a heartbeat. His body froze taut, throat tight. The wolf inside pressed against his ribs, desperate to defend what it already considered a mate. But the Alpha part of him knew the danger-the pack could never find out. Not yet. Not ever.

"You are wrong," he lies smoothly, though his voice carries an edge that betrays him.

The Beta narrowed his eyes. Suspicion hung heavy, and for a moment, he thought claws might flash. But the man just nodded tightly, though doubt lingered in the air like smoke. "We are at war," he warned. "Do not forget who you are."

Once the door slammed shut, the silence screamed no louder than before. His fists curled, nails cutting into his palms; he wanted that to deny it, to be able to fight the pull. Instead, though, it let his mind wander to the vampire's eyes, burning gold in the dark, wild with hunger-soft with something that almost looked like longing.

He couldn't turn his back to it.

The club pulsed with music and shadows, the kind of place where secrets were both made and lost. Bodies pressed up against one another, so thick and hot, but none of it mattered. He knew he was going to find him here. It was an instinct, the way a wolf senses the full moon.

And there he was.

Circling the bar now with glass in hand, and that was sin carved into perfection. Pale skin kissed by dimness, darkness falling over the forehead, lips curling into a smile the moment their eyes locked.

The world melted into nothing now-the war, the rules, the danger-all of it melted into heat.

He pushed his way through the crowd, every step an admission of weakness, every glance a surrender. And when they finally stood chest to chest, the vampire leaned close, his breath cool against his ear. "You came back," he whispered, voice a promise and a threat all at once.

"Then why do you look at me like you want to devour me?" The smirk was devilish, even brazen, and the glass hit the counter softly. "Or do you want me to devour you?"

The words ignited the fire in him.

Their mouths met, reckless and hungry, a collision of worlds meant to destroy each other. The kiss was not gentle-it was war, surrender, and salvation all at once. Hands roamed, claws teased against silk, fangs scraped skin in a threat that felt more like a plea.

And as they pulled apart, breathless, the vampire's voice was low and tremulous with lust: "As long as you stay, you will never be able to walk away again."

His heart thundered, his wolf clawing against his chest. He should leave. He should tear this bond apart before it consumed him.

But instead, his lips brushed the vampire's throat, tasting the cold pulse beneath the skin, and he knew.

He wasn't going anywhere.

Not tonight. Not ever.

And somewhere just outside in the shadows of the street, someone watched.

The Alpha’s SecretWith clouds veiling the moon when he returned to the packhouse, the coil was heavier this time. Spangled, his whole body still thrummed with the memory of fangs on skin, the echo of lips that had taken him in the shadows. Vampire scent remained on him, as though it had been put there like a scar, never to heal. No amount of showering it would scrub it from him; no amount of pacing alone in the silence could soothe it.

Growling in agitation, the wolf inside wanted to fight and resist and tear unrelentingly apart the enemy who has marked its flesh. But with this feral snarl came something else, something much more dangerous: longing. Not only hunger for blood or for dominance but for connection as well.

He's gotten dressed in a hurry, slipped into black denim jeans and this clingy shirt that covered whatever faint brush left by the bruises over his collar. Nobody should see it. Not his beta. Not his pack. Not even his closest friend. Alphas have no weakness.

And indeed, weakness seemed to besiege him alone.

The hall for meetings was already full at his arrival. When he walked in, the wolves shifted uncomfortably, heads bowing in respect but eyes sharp with suspicion. They smelled something on him. They couldn't name it, but they knew it didn't belong.

His Beta was straight at the head of the long wooden table, his voice booming. "The vampires crossed the river last night. Three guards slain, one barely clinging to life. This is an act of war."

A growl rolled through the pack. Fists slammed against the table. The room swelled with fury and fear.

He swallowed hard, pushing down the ache in his chest. Last night he had been with a vampire, not fighting him, not hunting him, but touching him, tasting him.

"Alpha," his Beta's eyes snapped to him, sharp and accusing. "What is your command?"

Every gaze turned to him. The Dozens of eyes, waiting. Demanding. Trusting him to be ruthless, decisive, merciless.

His throat was dry, but his voice came out strong. "We wait. We watch. No blood until I say otherwise."

The silence that followed was heavy, dangerous. His Beta stiffened, his jaw tight. "Wait?" he repeated, incredulous. "They killed our men. They invaded our lands. And you would wait?"

The Alpha's glare silenced him, but the room rippled with whispers. Doubt was a poison, and he had just poured it into the veins.

He slammed his fist against the table. "Enough! I said we wait. That's my word. That's law."

The pack bowed their heads before him, unfamiliar submission. But he saw it, felt it there in the visible lines of their heads: the unease, the suspicion, the widening fissure. His secret had already begun to sew the seams of his leadership.

When the meeting broke, his Beta caught up to him in the corridor, pressed him against the wall like a bent hinge. "What the hell are you hiding from us?" he growled, eyes blazing with betrayal. "You smell like him. Don't deny it."

He caught his breath. The scent of the vampire still clung to him: sweet, deadly. He could lie. He could claw his way out of this. But instead the words slipped like poison from his lips. "He saved me."

The Beta froze, shock flashing across his face. "Saved you? He's the enemy!"

"Maybe not," he whispered, the weight of it crushing him. "Maybe not anymore."

The Beta took a step back, horrified. "If the pack finds out...." The last words trailed off into silence as if choked by disbelief, for he could hardly believe it himself. "You will lose everything. They will rip you apart."

"I know," he said, softer now, almost broken. "But I cannot stop."

The Beta stared at him, torn between loyalty and rage. "Then you are playing with fire, Alpha. And fire burns." He stormed away, leaving the Alpha alone with his guilt.

That night, he tossed and turned, sleepless. The house was quiet; the pack was restless outside it, and all he could think of was one face. His featureless complexion, gold eyes. The vampire who had either ruined or saved him or attempted to do both.

If summoned by this, he felt it: the faint brush of presence beyond the window. His wolf bristled; he felt his heart leap.

He parted the curtain.

There he stood-usually, across the alley, bathed in moonlight, almost like a fallen angel. The vampire's gaze burned into his, and even though no word was spoken, the message was clear.

Come to me.

The Alpha's heart pounded. Just rooms away, his pack slept. His honor, his crown-his very soul-were at risk.

And still he stepped ankly into the night to follow the pull of fangs and fur.

When he reached the rooftop, the vampire didn't speak. He only caught his wrist, pulling him close, their mouths crashing together in a kiss that tasted like blood and destiny.

The Alpha broke away, breathless, trembling with desire and fear. "This is madness," he whispered. "If they ever find us-".

The vampire pressed his finger against his lips to silence him, wicked smile curving his mouth. "Then let them. Do you really think I'd let anyone take you from me now?"

Words sunk dangerously and seductively deep. He wanted to believe them. He wanted to drown in them.

But when the vampire pressed his mouth to his throat, when fangs scraped skin in a promise of ecstasy, a sound cut through the night.

A growl.

From below.

The Alpha froze, dread sinking in as his wolf senses sharpened. Someone was watching.

And this time, it was not his Beta.

The growl cut almost like a knife through the night, heavy and guttural, vibrating on the bricks below the rooftop. The Alpha froze, instincts kicking in. His wolf surged to the fore, ready to fight, ready to defend the forbidden male whose cold hand still grasped his wrist.

The vampire did not flinch; an amused smirk came instead, golden eyes glowing with a predator's thrill. "Guess we aren't alone," he drawled, a seductive throaty challenge that made danger thrill him even more.

The Alpha's heart ran a marathon. He peered into the shadows below. The alley stretched away, silent except for the drops of rain water falling from a broken pipe. Not much—until movement. From the darkness, a figure stepped boldly forth, fiery yellow eyes, claws half-shifted, lips bared in a snarl.

A wolf.

Not just any wolf; his packmate, his Beta.

The Alpha's blood chilled.

The Beta's gaze darted back at him and then to the vampire standing too close, fingers still tangled in his shirt. The truth hung heavy between them. Betrayal. Longing. Insanity.

"Tell me I'm wrong," the Beta growled, his voice torn between rage and disbelief: "Tell me you didn't let him touch you. Tell me you're not betraying us all."

The Alpha's throat constricted. A thousand lies burned on his tongue, but none came forth. Silence alone was testimony.

The Beta's growl deepened, fangs bared, claws trembling as he sprang high, scaling the wall at a brutal velocity. The vampire threw the Alpha back, fangs bared and dark, wicked laughter spilling out. "Finally," he purred, "somebody worth sinking my teeth into."

"No!" the Alpha screamed, stepping in front of the vampire, shielding him. The wolf inside him clawed him from within, crying out for blood, for a choice to be made. But how could he choose between a man he was sworn to lead and one who had already claimed his soul?

The Beta's claws swiped the air, nearly striking the vampire as the predator slipped aside with inhuman grace. Chaos erupted on the rooftop—fangs flashed, claws slashed, and the air thickened with the sounds of a battle tinged with rage and lust.

Heaving in the midst of fighting his two crazed companions, the Alpha felt torn between intervening and giving way to fury. Every hit, every hiss of pain twisted his insides. His world was crumbling. His secret had ceased being a secret—now it was war.

"Enough!" he roared, his voice resonating with power across the fighting pair. Power erupted from him, a command carried clearly in every syllable by the blood of his wolf. Both fighters froze, breaths ragged as they stood trembling with the desire to finish what they had begun.

The vampire licked blood from his lip, and amusement twinkled in his eyes. "You see? He's already mine. You'll never break what we've started."

The Beta's face twisted in rage; breath was hardly contained within him-it surged and pulled again and again. "When the pack finds out, you're finished- both of you. I'll make sure of it."

The Alpha advanced, his voice turning dangerous. "No one will find out. Do you hear me?" His eye shifted between them, panicking but defiant. "This stays between us-or we all burn."

The Beta's silence was as sharp as a blade. Then, he snarled one last time and leapt off the rooftop, disappearing into the shadows, leaving only the stench of fury and betrayal.

The Alpha gasped for air, stumbling and feeling guilty. His pack was crumbling, and he was the one tearing it apart.

The vampire's hand was on his chest, steadying him. "Let him rage," he whispered, lips brushing his ear. "The more they fight us, the sweeter the hunger becomes."

The Alpha's body shuddered with fury and need. He ought to push him away. He ought to run. But when the fangs scraped across his throat, when lips met with the mark already burned into his skin, any resistive strength ebbed from him.

He surrendered.

Mouths crashed-tentative at first, and then desperate. Their teeth clashed and tongues lapped. The kiss was fire and ice, punishment and reward. His nails raked at pale skin, dragging him closer until there was no space left.

A moan escaped the vampire's lips as it melted into his mouth, resonating somewhere deep in the Alpha's bones. "You taste like fury," he murmured, pinning him against the cold rooftop wall. "And I want more."

The impatient hands ripped off the clothes, exposing skin to skin-hot against cold, vampires rushing toward their storm. Every touch was wrong, forbidden, and that made it all the more sweet. Alpha's breath came in jagged gasps, his body betraying him over and over, yielding to what he must destroy.

The vampire's mouth traced a path down his chest, sharp teeth gliding along but never drawing blood, taking him to the edge of pain. Alpha's fingers tangled into dark hair, pulling him in closer and begging for more without words.

It was madness. It was bliss. It was hunger, raw and purest form.

But then—

A howl sliced the night.

It was neither his Beta nor his pack.

It was something else.

Far away. Strong. Terrifying.

The vampire froze with his head turned toward the sound; his eyes narrowed. "That," he said slowly, the tone of recognition mingled with dread, "was no wolf I know."

The blood of the Alpha went cold. His wolf stirred inside him, uneasy, restless. Something primal had awakened.

The vampire looked back at him, still hungry but very much with a warning. "For now, your pack is the least of our problems."

And just before the Alpha could retort, the howl cut in again—this time nearer, echoing in his bones like an ominous prophecy.