Chapter One
The Blood Moon rose like an omen—bloated and red, spilling across the sky like an open wound. It cast the world in shades of silver and scarlet, painting the stone walls of the Shadow Fang Pack's citadel in bloodlight.
Selene kept her chin high as she stepped through the towering gates, her hood pulled low over her face, masking the features that could start a war.
Don't falter now. You came here to end them.
The scent of bonfire smoke and blood-thick magic curled around her, mixing with the metallic tang of dominance and testosterone that bled from every male in the courtyard. Wolves from every aligned territory gathered for the Blood Moon Mating Ceremony, where the Alpha of Shadow Fang would select a Luna and forge the next generation of power.
But Selene hadn't come to be chosen. She had come to choose—her moment, her target, her revenge.
Selene moved like a shadow—tall and lean, every step cloaked in coiled grace. Her eyes were a deep violet, unnatural in their intensity, a color passed down through the cursed bloodline of the Nightshade clan. Her long black hair cascaded in loose waves down her back streaked faintly with silver—an echo of magic barely restrained. She wore a ceremonial dark sapphire dress, tight around the waist, with slits that allowed freedom of movement. Beautiful, fierce, and untouchable—Selene looked like a goddess carved from the night.
No one here knew what she was. Not yet.
The music thrummed low—tribal drums and strings—and dozens of unmated she-wolves stood in a circle around a raised obsidian platform. Selene melted into their ranks like smoke. The others were groomed to seduce—hair braided in gold, lips painted crimson, silk dresses slit thigh-high. But none of them had murder in their heart like she did.
The Nightshade Pack was slaughtered under a Blood Moon sixteen years ago. The cursed bloodline was supposed to be extinct.
Selene was supposed to be dead.
She wasn't.
She had hidden, trained, and bled for this moment. Her curse was not just her power—it was her weapon. And now, fate had led her to him.
The Alpha of Shadow Fang.
The one whose father ordered the execution.
His name was Ronan Draven.
And tonight… the bond would snap.
The drums fell silent. The crowd hushed. A presence like thunder rolled through the gathering.
"Look," a girl whispered nearby, her voice shaking with anticipation. "He's here."
He appeared at the top of the platform, towering, lethal, and cold-eyed.
Ronan Draven was a storm in human form—tall, broad-shouldered, and wrapped in power that clung to him like a second skin. His dark hair hung in loose waves to his jaw, framing a face carved in brutal lines. A faint scar curved along his high cheekbone, almost artful in its cruelty.
A strong jaw dusted in stubble. His eyes—icy blue and unfeeling—swept across the she-wolves like a predator bored with his prey.
He wore ceremonial black—leather tailored to his massive frame, silver embroidery denoting his Alpha status. But it wasn't his beauty that made Selene's breath catch.
It was the aura he exuded.
Dominance. Strength. Control.
He radiated danger.
And then… his eyes locked with hers.
The world fell away.
The sound. The cold. The hunger in the air. Gone.
A violent pull surged through her chest, a magnetic force that yanked her soul forward. Her breath hitched. Her knees almost buckled.
It didn't feel like lightning.
It felt like drowning.
No. No, not now. Not him.
Her knees buckled slightly. Her wolf snarled inside her chest, caught between instinct and rebellion. Her curse howled to complete its mission. But something else—a tether she hadn't known existed—pulled her toward him.
Not him. Anyone but him.
But it was already done.
The bond had snapped.
A sacred, eternal connection forged under the Blood Moon.
Selene Nightshade—cursed by the gods to destroy the Alphas who spilled her family's blood—was now bonded to one.
And worse?
Ronan felt it too.
His stare sharpened. His nostrils flared. His body went rigid.
She saw it—the flicker of fury and disbelief in his eyes. And then he masked it.
He descended the stairs toward her.
The crowd parted in stunned silence as he walked straight toward her.
Selene's heart pounded, her instincts warring. Run. Hide. Attack. Kneel.
She did none of them.
Instead, she stood her ground as Ronan stopped inches from her, his scent crashing into her like a wave—smoke, pine, storm wind, and something darker.
Up close, he was even more terrifying. And beautiful.
His voice was low, smooth, deadly.
"You. What's your name?"
Selene met his eyes. She couldn't lie, not with the bond burning between them. But she didn't have to tell the truth either.
"Call me Raven."
A dark smirk twisted his lips.
"Fine, Raven. You're mine now."
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as Ronan turned to face the gathering, gripping Selene's wrist and lifting her hand.
"I've made my choice. She is my Luna."
Gasps. Outrage. Fury. Someone screamed in protest.
Selene's heart thundered, but not from fear.
This is it. I'm inside now.
The war had just begun.
But she hadn't expected the bond to feel like this—like something sacred… something painful… something real.
And worst of all?
She hadn't expected the cursed part of her heart to want him.
Even just a little.