Chapter 1 #2
I wonder if he has nightmares too. If an Alpha of his power and age, carrying the weight of an ancient pack's survival, still fears the dark. If he senses this strange connection between us, or if I'm imagining it entirely.
I begin my shift, feeling the familiar tingle of magic racing over my skin. Usually, the transformation is effortless—as natural as breathing. But tonight, something catches. A hesitation. The nightmare's grip hasn't fully released me.
For a brief moment, the image of the pregnant woman in the white dress—myself, yet not myself—flashes behind my eyes, and my concentration breaks.
I stumble, catching myself against a tree trunk.
The rough bark scrapes my palm, and for a heartbeat, I'm back in that forest from my dream—hunted, frightened, desperate to protect something I've never had.
"Enough," I whisper, anger replacing fear. "It was just a dream."
I shake off the momentary weakness. I am Daciana, personal guard to Queen Astra, survivor of a wound that should have killed me. I will not be undone by nightmares.
With renewed focus, I let the shift take me.
Bones realign, muscles stretch, fur erupts across my skin.
In seconds, I'm on four paws, powerful and free.
I lift my muzzle to the night sky and let out a single, triumphant howl before plunging deeper into the forest, running until the dreams can't follow.
The night blurs around me as I push myself faster, harder. My paws barely touch the ground between strides, my body remembering the pure joy of speed. This is freedom. This is what the nightmare tried to take from me—the wild certainty of my own strength.
Wind rushes through my fur as I leap over fallen logs and weave between ancient trunks. The forest is alive around me, breathing with secrets and shadows. I run to outpace the lingering images: the bloodied wedding dress, the arrow, the child I've never carried.
A ripple of movement snags the edge of my vision.
I don't slow, don't turn, but I'm aware of them—the wild wolves, emerging from the deeper woods to run alongside me.
Three, then five, their silver and gray coats ghostly in the moonlight.
They match my pace, their eyes occasionally flashing my way, acknowledging but not challenging.
This has happened since I was a child—wild wolves finding me, running with me, accepting me in a way that made no sense to the pack. I never told anyone. Not my parents, not Astra, not even Selena. The wild wolves were my secret, my mystery.
One of them—a female with a scar across her muzzle—nudges closer, darting beneath me to weave between my much larger paws.
Standing nearly twice their height, I dwarf these wild cousins, yet they show no fear.
The alpha female looks up at me, her eyes holding a wisdom that transcends the difference in our forms. I feel a surge of connection, of belonging that transcends pack boundaries.
These wolves aren't pack, yet something in my blood recognizes them.
We crest a small rise together, and I push even faster, my heart pounding with exhilaration rather than fear for the first time since the nightmare began. The wild wolves fan out, five shadows dancing through the trees in perfect formation.
A flash of movement cuts across our path—another wolf, larger than the others, running parallel to our course through a dense stand of pines. Not one of the wild pack. This wolf's scent is different—powerful, ancient, carrying hints of snow and mountains and something else I can't quite place.
Something about this intruder disrupts my rhythm. My wolf's attention divides, curious about this newcomer even as we maintain our headlong sprint. The distraction costs me. My front paw catches on an exposed root, and at the speed I'm running, there's no recovery.
I tumble forward, momentum sending me into a chaotic roll. My wolf form twists instinctively, trying to right itself, but the slope is too steep, the speed too great. I crash through underbrush, the world spinning around me until something—someone—halts my fall.
Strong hands grip my shoulders, stopping my descent.
The sudden transition jolts me back into human form, the shift happening without conscious thought.
I gasp, disoriented, with pine needles in my hair and scratches across my arms. My clothes reform with me, training pants and a simple shirt materializing as my fur recedes.
"Are you hurt?" The voice is deep, concerned.
When I look up, I'm staring directly into dark eyes I know too well. My heart stutters.
I scramble backward, putting distance between us. "What are you doing out here?"
Kieran straightens to his full height, his dark clothes reformed perfectly with his shift.
The moonlight accentuates his imposing silhouette—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, powerful stance, and an aura of authority that commands attention.
He's at least twenty years my senior, but his body shows no sign of age's softening.
If anything, the years have honed him to something sharper, more dangerous.
The silver threading through his black hair catches moonlight as he studies me with an intensity that sends an unwelcome heat through my veins. Something about him calls to me on a level I can't understand—a pull that feels ancient and instinctive and terrifying.
"I run under the darkness of night," he says simply, as though it's the most natural thing for the Alpha of the Snow Mountain pack to be miles from the palace, alone in these woods.
"The moon speaks more clearly when the world is quiet.
" His eyes travel over me, assessing. "And you?
Why is the queen's guard so far from her charge at this hour? "
"That's none of your business," I snap, then immediately regret my tone. I've been raised to respect Alphas, even ones from other packs. "I apologize. I didn't mean to be rude. I just... needed some air."
He nods, accepting my explanation without question, though his eyes say he doesn't believe it. "Would you like to run together? These woods have good hunting."
"No." The answer comes too quickly, too forcefully. "I should head back."
I don't want to spend time with him. Every moment in his presence makes me feel like I'm standing at the edge of a precipice, my body urging me to leap while my mind screams in warning.
I take a few steps away, turning my back to him deliberately—a show of trust I don't entirely feel.
"You seem troubled, Daciana."
I stop but don't turn around. "I'm fine."
His footsteps make no sound on the forest floor. The first I know of his approach is the heat of him behind me, then his hands—large and unexpectedly gentle—circling my neck from behind. His fingers press lightly against the scar where Selena's blade nearly ended my life.
"Your scar is throbbing," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that I feel more than hear.
I should fight back. I should twist away. I should remind him that touching a royal guard without permission is overstepping. But my body betrays me, going limp and pliant under his touch. Submissive. Too submissive for a woman who has fought all her life to be seen as strong.
"My wound is fine," I manage to say, but my voice emerges breathy and weak, my core tightening at the scrape of his voice against my skin. He's too close. The heat of him radiates against my back, and I can feel every point where his body might touch mine if either of us moved even an inch.
His grip on my neck tightens just slightly—not threatening, but possessive in a way that makes my wolf want to bare her throat.
"The woods are filled with dangerous creatures at night," he says, his breath stirring the hair by my ear. "Creatures who know only how to claim what they desire." His thumb traces a slow circle at the base of my skull. "Go back to the safety of the palace, little wolf."
Then he releases me, and I stumble forward from the sudden absence of his touch.
I turn to look at him, but he's already stepping back, allowing moonlight to fall between us like a silver curtain. His eyes, though—they burn with something that looks like hunger, like knowledge.
Without another word, I begin walking away. Pride keeps my spine straight, my pace measured, though every instinct screams at me to run. I don't look back, but I feel his eyes on me long after the trees should have hidden me from view.
I feel marked, though he never laid claim to me. Warned, though he spoke no threat.
And somewhere in the forest behind me, a wild wolf howls—a sound so mournful it could break the moon.
The morning sun streams through the palace windows, turning the marble floors to rivers of gold. I make my way to the royal herb garden, where I know I'll find Astra. Even as queen, she's never abandoned her herbalist skills—knowledge that once helped us survive in Silver Stone pack.
I find her tending to her prized moonvine, her fingers working with the delicate plants that few others in the kingdom know how to grow properly.
Though pregnant with the royal heir, she still insists on caring for her most valuable medicinal herbs herself.
The herb garden is her sacred space—no servants are ever allowed inside, not even to water the plants in her absence. This is Astra's domain alone.
Once believed to be a latent shifter, now revealed to possess powers beyond what anyone imagined.
The healer whose extensive knowledge of medicinal plants has earned her respect throughout the kingdom.
My queen. My friend since childhood, though our experiences in Silver Stone pack were vastly different.
"You look tired," she says without looking up, her hands gently adjusting the moonvine tendrils. "Trouble sleeping?"
I lean against a nearby column at the garden's edge, respecting the boundary she's established. "I went for a run last night. Ran into Kieran in the woods."
Her hands pause, and she glances up, interest immediately piqued. "And what happened?"
"Nothing," I say too quickly.
Astra sits back on her heels, giving me her full attention. Her hand rests protectively on her belly, a habit she's developed since the threat to her unborn child was discovered.
I sigh, looking out toward the mountains barely visible in the distance. "When are they going back?"
"The Snow Mountain delegation?" Astra returns to her plants, but I can tell she's watching me from the corner of her eye. "Is Kieran bothering you?"
"No," I admit reluctantly. "But something about him... unsettles me."
Her eyes widen, and I can practically see the romantic notions blooming in her mind.
"No," I say firmly, rolling my eyes. "It's not a mating bond. Relax."
She looks disappointed as she carefully prunes a damaged leaf. Since finding her own happiness with Lucian, Astra has become determined to see everyone around her similarly paired off.
"Well, you might as well get used to his presence," she says, her hands never stopping their skilled work. "Kieran has formally requested to join the court. Lucian is stressed because the purist faction is strongly opposing his entry. They claim his pack's ancient magic is dangerous."
"I don't understand," I murmur, more to myself than to her. "Why would he leave the safety of the mountains to come here? His pack has avoided court politics for generations."
Astra glances up, her expression thoughtful as she works with the moonvine. "He must have a reason. A powerful Alpha doesn't abandon his territory without cause."
I stare out at those distant peaks again, remembering the feel of Kieran's hands on my neck, the warning in his voice.
What would cause an Alpha who has kept his pack safe for centuries in the mountains to emerge now?