Chapter Three

The Leap into Darkness

He turned and leapt off the altar.

Lunar screamed. The ground was falling away beneath them, the plaza rushing up to meet them, and she clung to him like a limpet, burying her face in his shoulder—

And the air around them blurred.

It was like being dragged through water, only the water was made of light. The world stretched and bent, the sounds of the crowd fading to a distant roar, and then—

Silence.

They were standing in a forest. Dark trees all around, moonlight filtering through the canopy, the air cool and clean and filled with the sound of crickets.

Lunar lifted her head slowly. Her heart was pounding so hard she could barely breathe. "What—where—how—"

"Territory border," Kaelen said shortly. "I ran. I've been running for—" He paused, and something like surprise flickered across his face. "Two days."

"Two days?" Lunar stared at him. "You ran for two days straight to—to—"

"To get to you." He said it simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and set her down on a fallen log. His hands lingered on her shoulders for a moment, steadying her, before he pulled away. "You were about to die."

"I was about to be sacrificed," Lunar corrected him, because she was feeling a little hysterical and precision felt important. "To the Moon God. To save the world. It's a great honor, apparently."

"It's murder," Kaelen said flatly. "And I don't give a damn what your priests call it."

Lunar stared at him. This man—this stranger, this terrifying, golden-eyed, clearly-insane Alpha of the Moonhowl Pack—had just declared war on the most powerful coven in the supernatural world. For her. A girl he'd never met.

"Why?" she asked, and her voice came out smaller than she'd intended. "Why would you do that? You don't even know me."

Kaelen was quiet for a long moment. The moonlight fell across his face, and Lunar saw something in his eyes—something ancient and hungry and impossibly tender.

"Because," he said finally, "you're mine."

Lunar blinked. "I'm—what?"

"Mine," he repeated. "The moon has been screaming your name at me for nineteen years, little witch. Every night, in my blood, in my bones, in the part of me that can't sleep and can't rest and can't stop hunting for something I couldn't name."

He stepped closer, and Lunar instinctively stepped back, her spine hitting the trunk of a tree.

"Now I know what it was," Kaelen said softly. He reached out, and his fingers brushed a strand of silver hair away from her face. His touch was feather-light, almost reverent. "It was you. It was always you."

Lunar's mouth opened and closed soundlessly. Nineteen years of dying on schedule. Nineteen years of being a beautiful, compliant tool.

Nobody had ever looked at her like that before.

"The moon," she managed, "doesn't—I'm the moon's bride. I'm—I was born to be the sacrifice—"

"The moon never sacrifices anything," Kaelen said. His golden eyes burned into hers. "The moon only takes care of what belongs to it. And you, Lunar Vale, belong to me."

It was insane. It was absolutely, completely insane. He was a stranger. He was a wolf. He was the most dangerous creature in the supernatural world, and he'd just declared war on the entire coven because of a feeling.

Lunar should have been terrified. She should have run. She should have—

She heard the first howl, far behind them, and her blood went cold.

The wolves. The coven. They were coming.

"Come on." Kaelen was already moving, pulling her away from the tree. "We have to go. Now."

Lunar ran.

She ran through the dark forest, her bare feet tearing on roots and stones, her hand locked in Kaelen's, his warmth bleeding into her skin like a promise. Behind them, the howls grew louder. Above them, the moon hung low and hungry, watching them flee.

And deep in the darkness beneath the altar she'd left behind, something black and hungry stirred in the earth.

It had been waiting for a hundred years.

Now, at last, it had found a new scent to follow.

*

In the temple city, chaos reigned.

Priestesses in silver robes ran screaming through the corridors, their candles guttering, their sacred chants abandoned. In the great hall, the assembled elders stood frozen, staring at the empty altar where the Lunar Witch had been bound only minutes before.

"She's gone," Elder Morwen breathed. "The wolf—he took her. He took her."

"The treaty is broken." Elder Aldric's voice shook with fury. "The Alpha of the Moonhowl Pack has crossed our border, destroyed our sacred altar, and stolen our sacrifice. This is—this is an act of war."

"Then war it shall be." The voice cut through the chaos like a blade.

The elders turned. High Priestess Isolde stood in the doorway, her white robes immaculate, her silver hair untouched by the chaos. Her face was serene, beautiful, terrible.

The elders fell silent.

"Send word to the Silver Guard," Isolde said, her voice calm and cold. "Send word to every coven, every ally, every hunter in the supernatural world. The Lunar Witch has been stolen by the Alpha wolf. She must be returned."

"And if she cannot be returned, High Priestess?" Morwen asked quietly.

Isolde's smile was a knife, smooth and sharp.

"Then she must be found dead. A Lunar Witch who has been corrupted by a wolf cannot be allowed to live. Her power must not fall into their hands."

The elders exchanged glances. They knew what she was asking. They knew what it meant.

"High Priestess," Aldric said carefully, "she is the sacrifice. Without her—"

"Without her, we will wait another hundred years." Isolde's voice was steel. "The moon is patient, Elder. It has waited before. It will wait again."

She turned and glided from the hall, her robes whispering against the stone.

In her private chambers, she stood before the mirror and watched the black smoke curl around her fingers.

"You think you can run from me, little wolf," she murmured. "You think you can hide her from me."

The smoke swirled, and in its depths, a thousand shadow creatures stirred.

"Let me show you how wrong you are."

*