Under the Blood Moon

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.

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