A sharp pulse rippled through his chest, spreading fire through his veins. His jaw clenched as he fought the familiar sensation, but the curse-the bane that haunted him-was relentless. It stirred beneath his skin like a beast trapped in a cage, clawing at his insides, demanding release.
"Give in, Azriel," a voice whispered in his mind, smooth and insidious. "You were never meant to fight this."
His fingers curled into fists.
He wouldn't listen.
He couldn't.
"Alpha."
Azriel turned at the sound of Lucan's voice. His Beta stood a few feet away, arms crossed over his broad chest. His expression was unreadable, but his golden-brown eyes held something close to concern.
"They're waiting," Lucan said, nodding toward the clearing beyond the trees.
Azriel exhaled sharply. The Full Moon Festival. A night of celebration, where the pack gathered to honor their bond with the moon, their strength, their unity. But for him, it was something else entirely. A reminder of what set him apart-of the darkness lurking within him.
Still, an Alpha couldn't hide from his pack. Even if he felt like a stranger among them.
With a slow nod, he followed Lucan toward the clearing where fires burned bright and laughter filled the night.
---
The Festival
The festival was alive with energy. Wolves-both shifted and in human form-moved freely through the clearing, their voices blending in a harmony of joy and camaraderie. The scent of roasted meat, spiced ale, and burning wood drifted through the air.
The pack was celebrating.
But the moment Azriel entered, a subtle shift rippled through the crowd.
Wolves parted instinctively as he walked past. Some lowered their gazes in deference, while others hesitated, their smiles faltering. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable. But Azriel felt it.
They respected him.
They followed him.
But they also feared him.
His curse had not gone unnoticed.
Lucan stepped ahead, blending easily into the crowd, but Azriel lingered near the outskirts, scanning the faces. The warmth of the firelight flickered against their features, but he felt no warmth from them. No true acceptance.
Then, suddenly-a scent hit him.
It was unlike anything he had ever encountered before.
Wild. Crisp. Like the first rain after a long drought, mixed with something untamed, something forbidden.
His body tensed. His wolf stirred. His heart slammed against his ribs.
He turned.
And then he saw her.
Valencia.
She stood near the fire, her golden eyes glowing softly in the flickering light. Long silver-blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face both delicate and fierce. She held herself with quiet strength, poised yet distant, like a predator watching from the shadows.
The mate bond snapped into place with the force of a lightning strike.
Azriel's entire being locked onto her. A force stronger than instinct, older than time itself, called him forward. His wolf howled in his mind, demanding he move, demanding he claim what was his.
But then-just as quickly as the moment came-she turned away.
Azriel felt the rejection like a physical blow.
Lucan appeared beside him, smirking. "She won't make it easy for you."
Azriel exhaled through his nose, suppressing the growl building in his throat. "Nothing ever is."
Before Lucan could reply, a sudden change in the air made every wolf still.
The fire crackled wildly. The wind howled through the trees. A heavy silence fell over the clearing, thick with tension. Wolves instinctively straightened, their senses sharpening.
And then-the whisper came.
Low. Cold. Inhuman.
"You cannot escape me, Azriel."
It wasn't just in his head this time.
It was here.
A shape materialized from the darkness at the forest's edge. Twisted. Shadowed. A presence not fully human, not fully wolf. Its eyes-black voids-locked onto him.
Azriel's pulse roared in his ears.
He knew this presence.
He had felt it before. In his nightmares. In the whispers of his curse.
The ancient evil that haunted him... had finally come for him.