Rain slashed across the muddy training grounds of the Ashthorn Pack, freezing and unforgiving, but it wasn’t enough to wash away the scent of fear.
It hung thick in the air, sour and sharp. It wasn’t the fear of an approaching enemy or a rival pack. It was the fear of him.
Alpha Kael stood in the center of the ring, chest heaving, rain plastering his dark hair to his forehead. Around him, three of his elite warriors groaned in the mud, clutching bruised ribs and fractured limbs. They were the best fighters in the pack, seasoned and lethal. It had taken Kael less than two minutes to drop them all.
He hadn’t even broken a sweat. He hadn't even let his wolf fully surface.
"Get up," Kael growled. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a dark, vibrating frequency that made every wolf within a hundred yards lower their head and bare their neck in submission.
None of the three warriors moved. One of them, a bulky enforcer named Jax, managed to push himself onto his hands and knees before his arms gave out. He stared at the mud, shivering, refusing to meet Kael’s glowing amber eyes.
They are terrified of me, Kael thought, the realization twisting like a cold knife in his gut. My own people. My own warriors.
He turned his back on them, dismissing them with a flick of his wrist. Around the perimeter of the fighting pit, dozens of pack members stood in the freezing downpour. Not a single one of them cheered. Not a single one offered a proud howl for their Alpha's strength. They just watched him with wide, wary eyes, like a bomb that was ticking down to zero.
Kael strode toward the main packhouse, his heavy boots sinking into the sludge. Every step he took, the crowd parted violently, wolves tripping over themselves to get out of his path. The isolation was suffocating. He was their leader, their protector, the strongest Alpha the Ashthorn Pack had seen in a century. But he was completely alone.
He reached the covered porch of the packhouse, where the elders stood huddled together, their faces grim.
Suddenly, the world tilted.
A spike of pure, unadulterated agony drove itself into Kael’s chest. He stumbled, catching himself on the thick wooden railing. He gripped the wood so hard it splintered into kindling beneath his fist.
No… Not now. Not in front of them.
The curse flared to life. It felt like liquid fire injecting directly into his veins. Deep inside his mind, his wolf roared, a jagged, bloodthirsty sound that demanded violence. It clawed at the edges of Kael's control, begging to be let out, begging to tear and rip and destroy.
Kael locked his jaw, tasting copper as his fangs forcefully extended. His muscles locked up, vibrating with a dark, unnatural energy. He squeezed his eyes shut, building a mental cage around his frantic beast, throwing all his willpower into pushing the monstrous urge down.
Mine, Kael commanded his wolf. My body. My mind. Down.
Slowly, agonizingly, the fire receded into a dull, pulsing ache in his bones. Kael sucked in a ragged breath, opening his eyes.
Elder Mira was standing right in front of him. Her silver hair was damp from the storm, her ancient, wrinkled face lined with deep sorrow. She hadn't flinched away like the others.
"It's getting worse, isn't it?" she asked softly, her voice barely carrying over the pounding rain.
Kael wiped a streak of dark blood from his lower lip. He smoothed his features into the cold, emotionless mask he wore to survive. "I have it under control."
"Control is a fragile cage, Kael," Mira said, leaning heavily on her wooden cane. "You are fighting a war inside your own blood. The elders are whispering. The pack feels your beast straining against the leash. Power without peace is the cruelest curse of all, Alpha."
Kael looked out at the storm. Through the heavy rain, he could see the workers setting up the massive wooden pavilions for the Moon Festival. Banners were being tied down. Fire pits were being dug. In three days, hundreds of unmated wolves would gather under the full moon, hoping the Goddess would grant them their fated mate.
It was a time of hope. A time of love. It made Kael sick to his stomach.
"Peace?" Kael's voice was a bitter rasp. "Fear has become my shadow, Mira. Look at them. Look at how they flinch when I breathe. Even my mate, if the Goddess is cruel enough to give me one would run from me."
"Do not doubt the Goddess," Mira said quietly, her eyes drifting toward the storm clouds. "She never creates impossible destinies. There is a balance to everything. Your darkness is deep, but it only means the light meant for you must be blinding."
Kael let out a harsh, cynical breath. "If she is out there, she better stay far away. For her own sake."
Mira placed a warm, weathered hand on his arm. It was the first time anyone had touched him willingly in months. "The Moon Festival is your last chance this year, Kael. Do not close your heart before the moon rises."
Mira turned and walked slowly back into the packhouse, leaving Kael alone on the porch.
He pulled back the sleeve of his dark shirt. The skin of his forearm was pale, but sprawling up from his wrist were thick, jagged black veins, pulsing with a dark, necrotic energy. The physical mark of the curse. It has been growing a little more every month. When it reached his heart, the man would die, and only the monster would remain.
The clouds parted for just a fraction of a second, letting a beam of bright, silver moonlight hit the porch.
Kael stared up at the moon, his jaw clenched, the black veins throbbing against his skin.
"I have just one year left, he whispered to the empty night. The black veins flared once, painfully hot, before sinking back beneath his skin, hiding the poison that was slowly eating him alive.
