Chapter 37
Sylas
The summons came as the sun began its descent.
A Lux Saber appeared at his chamber door—one of the elite females sworn to protect future Lunas, her armor gleaming with ceremonial polish. She bent her head in deference, exposing the vulnerable line of her throat.
“The preparations are complete, my King. Your mate awaits in the Luna room.”
Your mate. The words hit differently now. Not a political designation. Not a strategic alliance. Something primal and possessive that curled around his heart and refused to let go.
“Lead the way.”
The Luna room occupied the oldest wing of the fortress, carved into the mountain’s heart where the Lux Tear veins ran thickest. The corridor leading to it grew darker as they descended, the walls narrowing until Sylas’s shoulders nearly brushed both sides.
He could feel the sacred space calling to his blood, awakening something ancient and hungry.
His wristband pulsed in response—the Moon Tear embedded in its center resonating with the concentrated energy around them. The deeper they went, the stronger the pull became. Like the mountain itself was breathing, waiting, watching.
The Lux Saber stopped before doors carved from solid obsidian, their surface etched with symbols older than the fortress itself. Prayers to Lux. Blessings for fertility. Warnings for those who entered without purpose.
“Beyond here, only you and your chosen may enter.” The Saber stepped aside. “May Lux bless your hunt, Alpha King.”
Sylas pressed his palms to the doors. The obsidian was warm beneath his pads, almost alive, and when he pushed, they swung inward without sound.
The Luna room glowed.
Lux Tear veins threaded through every surface—floor, walls, ceiling—their light soft pulsed between golden and teal, casting everything in shades of honey and icy blue. The air was thick with warmth and fragrance, so overwhelming that Sylas had to stop in the threshold to steady himself.
Frosted Tears.
The sacred oil derived from the nightbloom flowers that only appeared when the Mother Moon drew close to the horizon.
Sweet and heady, it was said to drive males to madness and bind mates together across any distance.
He’d smelled it before—in small doses, ceremonial amounts meant to honor Lux at formal gatherings—and whenever his pet was aroused.
This was nothing like that.
This was Frosted Tears concentrated and layered, anointed across warm skin, mixed with the natural scent of a female who was already imprinted on his instincts so deeply he couldn’t imagine a world without her.
The fragrance curled around him like smoke, sinking into his lungs with every breath until he could taste it on his tongue—sweetness and warmth and something uniquely Elsa beneath it all.
His claws flexed against the obsidian doorframe. The beast inside him strained against its chains, howling for release.
Not yet. Not yet.
And at the center of it all stood Elsa.
She wore the ceremonial garments he’d given her—the white winter layers that hugged her form, the boots made for running through snow.
Her hair had been braided with thin silver chains that caught the Lux Tear light.
And draped across her shoulders, bright as fresh blood against the pale fabric, hung the crimson cape with its deep hood.
Now he understood why she’d described herself as Red Riding Hood walking into the wolf’s den.
Except she wasn’t walking in.
She was waiting for him.
“Sylas.” His name on her lips, steady despite the nerves he felt flickering through the bond. Her chin lifted, that stubborn defiance he’d come to crave. “I was starting to think you’d changed your mind.”
He moved before conscious thought could intervene, crossing the chamber in three strides that felt more like prowling than walking. Her breath caught as he stopped inches from her, close enough that her scent washed over him in waves, flooding his senses until the world narrowed to nothing but her.
“Never.” The word scraped out of him. “I will never change my mind about you.”
Her hand lifted to his chest, pressing flat against the fur over his heart. Through the bond, he felt her steadying herself—drawing strength from the contact, from the thrum of his pulse beneath her palm.
“The Sabers told me what happens next.” Her voice was quiet but clear. “You take in my essence. And then…”
“And then I hunt you.”
She didn’t flinch. Just held his gaze with those winter-sky eyes that had undone him from the first moment she’d dared to meet them.
“Then do it.”
Sylas’s control fractured at the edges.
He leaned in slowly—giving her time to pull away, to change her mind, to realize the enormity of what she was agreeing to. She didn’t move. Just tilted her head back, exposing the pale column of her throat where the Frosted Tears oil glistened against her skin.
Offering herself.
A sound escaped him—low, rough, barely controlled. His muzzle brushed the line of her jaw, tracking down to the place where her pulse beat strongest. The scent hit him like a physical blow, flooding his system with something that bypassed thought entirely and landed straight in his instincts.
Mate. Hunt. Claim. Keep.
He inhaled deeply, drawing her essence into his lungs, letting it burn through his blood and sear itself into his bones.
The world tilted. Sharpened. The golden-teal glow of the Luna room intensified until everything glowed with predatory clarity, every detail of her burned into his awareness with crystalline precision.
The lock snapped into place.
He could feel her now in ways he hadn’t before—not just through the bond, but in his very marrow. If she ran to the edge of the world, he would find her. If she hid in darkness, he would hunt her. If she screamed or whispered or breathed, he would know.
There was no escaping this. No escaping him.
Not that she wanted to.
Sylas forced himself to pull back, his eyes finding hers. He knew what she would see—pupils blown wide, the cyan of his irises swallowed by hunger, his expression stripped of every civilized mask he’d ever worn.
The beast, staring back.
But Elsa didn’t recoil. Didn’t tremble. Instead, something fierce lit in her expression—a mirror to his own intensity.
“Still here.” Her voice was soft but unwavering. “Still not running.”
A growl rumbled through him. “You will be.” He cupped her face in his claws, impossibly gentle despite the violence coiling in his muscles. “Listen to me, Elsa. When those doors open, you run. No matter what you hear behind you. No matter how close I sound. You run.”
“Because the ritual demands it.”
“Because I demand it.” His thumb traced her cheekbone, achingly careful. “The Blood Moon makes us feral. Makes us forget. If you stop—if you give yourself to me before I’ve earned you—the court will say you surrendered. That I didn’t truly win you. That our bond is charity rather than conquest.”
“And you care what they think?”
“I care that no one can question you.” His voice dropped into something darker.
“When you stand beside me as Luna, there will be challengers. Doubters. Those who see a human and assume weakness. I need them to know—to witness with their own eyes—that you were hunted by the Alpha King under the Blood Moon, and you made him work for every step.”
Understanding flickered in her expression. “This isn’t just ceremony.”
“Nothing with me is just ceremony.” He pressed his forehead to hers, sharing breath and heat and the electric tension thrumming between them. “Run, Elsa. Run hard and fast and smart. Use that navigator brain of yours to give me hell. And when I catch you—”
“When you catch me,” she finished, her hands rising to grip his wrists, “I become Luna. Yours. Forever.”
“Forever.” The word resonated through him, settling into the place where her scent now lived permanently. “No take-backs. No escape clauses. No pretending this didn’t happen when the moon fades.”
“I know.” She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her expression steady despite everything. “I made my choice, Sylas. Last night. Maybe before that. Maybe from the moment you looked at me like I was something worth keeping instead of discarding.”
The confession hit him like a blow to the chest.
He wanted to say something—anything—that would match the weight of her words. But the beast was too close to the surface now, and words were becoming harder, the urge to act overwhelming the need to speak.
Instead, he pressed his mouth to her forehead, letting the touch say what language couldn’t.
Mine. Yours. Ours.
Through the walls of the Luna room, he heard the distant sound of horns—the signal that the Blood Moon was cresting the horizon, painting the sky in shades of crimson and shadow. The hunt would begin within the hour.
Sylas forced himself to step back. To release her. To breathe through the primal demand to claim her here and now, tradition be damned.
“The doors will open soon.” His voice came out rough, barely recognizable. “You’ll have a head start. Use it.”
Elsa pulled the red hood up over her golden hair, framing her face in crimson. In that moment, she looked like the Moon Goddess made flesh—innocence wrapped in danger, prey dressed as purpose.
“See you soon, Alpha King.” A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
Before he could respond, a different set of obsidian doors at the far end of the chamber groaned open, revealing the winter night beyond. Cold air rushed in, carrying the scent of snow and pine and the copper tang of the Blood Moon’s light.
Elsa turned and walked toward the exit, her red cape snapping in the sudden wind. She didn’t look back. Didn’t hesitate.
She simply stepped through the doors and vanished into the crimson darkness.
Sylas stood alone in the Luna room, her scent wrapped around him like chains.
The horns sounded again—one long blast that echoed through the fortress, out into the territory beyond, announcing to every Yzefrxyl within earshot that the Alpha King’s Mating Hunt had begun.
Somewhere in the fortress above, he knew the court was gathering at windows and balconies, straining to catch a glimpse of the hunt.
The Lux Priests would be offering prayers to the Great Snow Beast. The Lux Knights and Sabers would be taking their positions at the boundary markers, ensuring no one interfered.
And Ryxin—his brother would be watching with the same fierce attention he’d given his own hunt for Ari, understanding in a way no one else could what it meant to chase the impossible and catch it.
Sylas moved to the open doors, letting the winter air wash over him. The Blood Moon hung enormous and red above the tree line, its light painting the snow in shades of rust and shadow. Somewhere in that forest, Elsa was running.
He could feel her—a bright thread of determination and fear and something fiercer than both. Her heart raced. Her breath came fast. Her legs drove her forward into the unknown, trusting him to follow, to find, to claim.
The countdown began. Tradition demanded he wait—give her time to disappear into the trees, to use every advantage the terrain could offer.
Each second felt like an eternity.
Finally, the third horn blast split the night, and the last chain of civilization snapped inside him.
Sylas drew one last breath of her lingering scent—Frosted Tears and human warmth and everything he’d never known he wanted—and let the beast loose.
He let out a growly howl, matching the loud bone-deep intensity of the hunt’s horns.
And then he ran.