As I stand at the center of the circle, the last of the pack closes around me. Hundreds of wolves form a ring of bodies and breath, all focused on me alone. My gaze lifts to the moon, full and blindingly bright, and my wolf sings within my mind, her emptions a pulse of wild joy that vibrates through my bones.

  She will soon be free.

  The pack howls, growls, and yips in excitement. Then the drums begin. Slow at first. Deep and steady. With every beat, my heart thunders harder, syncing to the rhythm as if the moon herself were beating inside my chest.

  Heat pours through me like molten metal. The tingling in my fingertips intensifies, spreading up my arms and across my skin in electric waves. My bones ache with the need to bend, to break, to reshape.

  The drums grow louder. Faster. The howling rises to match them.

  My wolf presses against my mind with sharp insistence, claws tracing down my spine, gliding along my nerves, urging me to open the door that has kept her caged all my life.

  She is ready.

  And with terrifying clarity, I know I am ready too.

  When I give myself to the change, the drumbeats and voices fall away. The world narrows to a single point of pressure. A single moment of surrender.

  My knees buckle, and I collapse to the ground. Pain explodes through my body in white hot flashes. Bones bend, snap, and reform. Muscles stretch and tear. My spine arches. My hands strike the earth as claws tear through my skin. A choked whimper escapes me, but the pain transforms into something bright and euphoric, like being shattered and made new in the same breath.

  Fur bursts across my skin, rich, fiery copper streaked with molten gold. My vision sharpens to crystalline clarity. My breath deepens. My heart pounds like thunder.

  I stand on four legs.

  My wolf gazes through my eyes and for the first time in my life, I do not feel whole.

  I feel split open.

  I am shoved backward inside myself as my wolf surges forward, my awareness collapsing inward while her senses explode outward. I feel the turn of her head, the slow, deliberate rotation of her body, but I am not the one moving. I am watching from somewhere deep and breathless, pressed against the inside of her skull.

  The air hums against our glowing coat.

  Pack members stare back with wide, stunned eyes. Their scents crash over us in a violent wave. Fear. Awe. Possession. Disdain. Confusion. Too many emotions. Too many instincts. They slam into us all at once, rattling through our chest until I can barely think.

  My wolf lifts her head.

  I catch flashes of myself reflected in their eyes.

  Red fur.

  Not gold. Not silver. Not gray.

  Red.

  Rare.

  Powerful.

  Dangerous.

  A red wolf.

  The knowledge sends a tremor through the clearing. I feel it ripple outward, the way our presence unsettles something ancient in them. Some wolves recoil without meaning to. Others lean forward, drawn despite themselves. A few bare their teeth, insulted by the scent of our blood.

  My wolf turns.

  Her gaze locks on Kellan.

  His parents grip him by the arms, claws dug into his skin as he struggles against them. His eyes burn bright with hunger and something darker. Something primal. Not affection.

  Ownership.

  Luna Marienne’s face twists in fear. Alpha Kennan stands rigid, jaw clenched so tightly I swear his teeth might crack.

  Something is happening to them.

  To all of them.

  My wolf’s presence is doing this.

  Several wolves shift abruptly, instinct overriding control as our scent hits them full force. Others take hesitant steps toward us, teeth bared. A few snarl openly, hackles raised as if my very existence is a provocation.

  Kellan rips free of his mother’s grip.

  Fur ripples across his skin as his shift begins.

  My chest tightens.

  Even Alpha Kennan falters. His nostrils flare. His pupils dilate. His emotions bleed into the air, sharp and raw, and I taste them at the back of my throat.

  Fear.

  Desire.

  Dominance, fractured.

  Instinct clawing at instinct.

  The pressure in the circle becomes unbearable. Every scent, every emotion slams into me like crashing waves, and I have nowhere to run inside my own body.

  Then the wind shifts.

  A scent hits me so violently my wolf staggers.

  The same scent from the woods.

  From the treeline.

  From my dreams.

  Dangerous. Predatory. Haunting.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  But now unmistakable.

  Painfully delicious.

  My wolf surges.

  She does not ask.

  She commands.

  A voice curls through the air, soft and undeniable, threading itself through my bones with an authority that feels older than this world.

  “Come to me.”

  I try to resist.

  I do not even slow her.

  I do not hesitate.

  I cannot.

  My wolf bolts forward, tearing through a gap in the circle before the pack can fully react.

  Shouts erupt behind me.

  “Lirian, wait! Come back!”

  “Stop her!”

  “She can’t leave!”

  Their voices blur together, distant and useless.

  My wolf does not look back.

  The forest swallows us whole as we sprint faster than I ever thought possible. The ground thunders beneath our paws. Branches whip past our face. Sound, scent, and light collide until the world becomes a single overwhelming rush.

  I am not steering.

  I am holding on.

  My wolf runs with terrifying certainty, muscles burning with power that should not belong to a wolf on her first shift. The scent grows stronger. Thicker. Nearly intoxicating.

  Hunting.

  Or being hunted.

  I cannot tell which.

  The pack fades behind us, unable to keep pace. My wolf howls, exultant, feral, unafraid. Every instinct screams that this is right. That this is inevitable.

  She runs as if she’s been waiting her entire life for this moment.

  And deep in the marrow of my bones, something whispers a truth I am not ready to face.

  We are not chasing a stranger.

  We are running straight into fate.

  We burst from the treeline into a wide clearing, breath heaving, heart hammering wildly. The rush of sensation threatens to drown me. Every nerve is alive. Every instinct aflame. Nothing moves, yet the air hums, thick and charged.

  I need to breathe.

  I need to feel the wind on my skin.

  The pull inward comes suddenly. My wolf does not resist my need.

  Returning to my human form feels nothing like the violence of becoming a wolf. It is smooth. Warm. Like sinking beneath soft sheets after a long, brutal day. Fur recedes in a wave of heat like a warm bath, as skin replaces it, and the cool air kisses every inch of me at once.

  I gasp, knees weak, heart still racing.

  My wolf does not leave.

  She lingers.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  And for the first time, I understand the truth that terrifies me more than the shift itself.

  She is not done with this night.

  For a moment, I simply stand there, naked and unguarded, basking in the chilling breeze as it wraps around me. My hair whips wildly around my body, lifting with each gust as if greeting the night. A strange sense of peace settles over me.

  Then I turn.

  And freeze.

  The cliff from my dreams stretches before me. The same grass. The same jagged rocks. The same raging waters far below. My stomach twists with an all-too-familar feeling as the memory of falling, surfaces like a drowning echo.

  And just like in my dreams, I feel him.

  A presence behind me.

  Dark. Heavy. Dangerous.

  Predatory in a way that awakens both terror and yearning.

  The scent hits me first.

  The same scent that has teased my senses for years.

  The same scent that pulled me through the woods.

  The same scent that whispered through my bones.

  My fingers tremble. My knees weaken. A spark of desire stirs deep inside me, something dormant until now, something I have no control over. I should shift back. I should run. I should do anything but stand here naked and exposed.

  But I cannot move.

  Steady footsteps approach from behind. Close. Closer. Just feet away.

  My breath catches.

  My wolf presses against my skin.

  My mind blurs with fear, longing, instinct.

  I turn.

  And he is there.

  A massive black wolf steps out of the shadows, towering, powerful, regal in a way that steals my breath. His fur glistens like spilled ink beneath the moonlight. His eyes burn bright gold, alive with hunger, power, and possession. Larger than any alpha I have ever seen.

  Azrael.

  The Rogue Alpha whispered about in every pack.

  The curse of the borderlands.

  The monster said to leave bodies in his wake.

  He was hunting me.

  He was haunting me.

  And now he stands before me.

  I should be terrified.

  I should flee for my life.

  But every part of me trembles with something else. Something forbidden. Intoxicating.

  Before I can react, his body begins to shift. Bones reshape. Muscles ripple. His towering wolf melts away, leaving a man in his place as he rises to his full height, fully exposed.

  Azrael Black.

  Massive. Pale skinned. Dark haired. Power carved into every inch of him. His body is etched with shimmering moonlit markings that glow faintly like ancient script.

  The curse.

  It is real.

  Written across his skin like an omen. Like prophecy.

  His features are sharp, masculine, dangerous. Devastatingly beautiful.

  He takes a step toward me.

  I do not flinch.

  He takes another, piercing green eyes locked onto mine as if he can see the secrets in my soul. When his gaze drifts downward, tracing the lines of my exposed body, heat surges through me so fiercely I nearly collapse. I command my body to move, to cover myself, to run, but it does not obey.

  I am vulnerable.

  Unprotected.

  Completely alone.

  I should be afraid.

  I should run.

  But every instinct inside me pulls toward him instead, aching to close the space between us.

  He steps close enough that our breaths mingle. My heart hammers painfully, each beat shaking my ribs. His scent wraps around me like a drug, soft and dizzying.

  A slow hand rises to my face. His touch is gentler than I imagined he could be, brushing a wild strand of hair behind my ear with an intimacy that steals the air from my lungs.

  He leans in.

  His breath brushes my skin, warm and whisper soft, sending a shiver through my body.

  “I have been waiting for you,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sinks deep into my bones.

  My knees nearly give out.

  “Lirian!”

  Kellan bursts through the treeline, His soft brown wolf landing hard and already shifting back to human. His chest heaves as he points a trembling finger at Azrael.

  “I swear I will kill you if you hurt her.”

  In a blur of motion, Azrael moves.

  He spins me around, pulling me tight against his chest. One clawed hand presses lightly against my throat. The threat is silent but absolute.

  “If you approach,” Azrael growls, “I will tear her throat out and you will never have your little bride again.”

  “Please,” Kellan begs, his voice cracking. “Please don’t hurt her. Take me instead. I will give you anything you want.”

  Azrael laughs, low and cold.

  “Yes. Beg. This is what your family deserves after what you’ve done.” His grip tightens just enough to send a jolt of fear through me. “She is mine now. Follow, and she dies.”

  He steps backward toward the cliff’s edge, pulling me with him. Kellan lunges, realizing too late what Azrael intends.

  Just like in my dreams.

  The world tilts.

  The sky spins.

  Azrael scoops me into his arms as we fall through the air, turning his body to shield me from the impact.

  The last thing I feel is the crushing shock of icy water against my skin.

  Then everything goes dark.