Chapter 28
The night sky sprawled endlessly above, the full moon’s silver glow peeking through the towering trees of Mokkvyrn Forest. A blazing pyre stood at the center, flames of gold crackling into the dark, their light dancing over the crowd of shifters.
Evelyne stood in quiet awe, taking in the scene before her.
The entire pack had assembled—men, women, children, even the elders—all gathered in honor of the full moon.
They perched upon tree stumps and large stones or crouched upon the earth like they were one with the land.
The scent of burning firewood blended with the crisp spring breeze, carrying the sounds of the pack: laughter, hushed conversations, and the steady rhythm of drums.
Regardless of age, the men were bare-chested, their muscular forms painted in swirling patterns as women traced delicate, ancient symbols upon their broad shoulders and sculpted torsos.
Evelyne had never witnessed such a seamless blend of beauty and strength.
The women were just as striking, some wearing the same leather headbands as she and Heidara, while others wove their long hair into thick braids, strands threaded with tiny wildflowers.
Their cropped leather tops left their stomachs bare, and their slit skirts swayed fluidly with each graceful movement.
The drum beats grew louder, echoing like the very heartbeat of the forest. Men and women moved in hypnotic patterns around the fire, their bodies swaying, stepping, and twisting with fluidity.
It was nothing like the stiff, choreographed ballroom dances Evelyne had been taught as a child.
This was something entirely different. This was primal, unrestrained, and alive.
Like a celebration of connection and life itself.
Her eyes drifted to a young couple, their hands on each other’s waists, hips rolling in time with the beat.
The movement was intimate, sultry even, and Evelyne’s face warmed watching them.
But as the drums changed rhythm, the pair parted, smoothly transitioning to new partners as if nothing had changed.
Before she could process it, a deep voice rumbled behind her.
“Dancing is a way we express ourselves here.”
Evelyne jolted, whipping around to find Kaldrek behind her, his towering frame looming over her.
Her breath caught at the sight of him up close.
His dark brown hair was tousled, and his deep, earth-toned eyes gleamed like polished mahogany in the unsteady light of the flames.
His bare chest was a solid wall of muscle, marked with the pack’s sacred ink.
A massive wolf stretched along one side of his neck, its fierce form naturally woven into twisting tribal patterns that coiled down his shoulder and wrapped along his arm like living shadows.
She had to tilt her chin upward to meet his eyes. He was so damn tall.
He lifted a drinking horn to his lips, taking a slow gulp of the amber liquid inside. Evelyne watched the muscles in his throat move, his skin gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat from the fire’s heat.
He grinned as he lowered the horn. “Glad to see you haven’t tried to kill us yet.”
She swallowed, momentarily caught off guard. Was he… joking with her?
Turning her focus back to the fire, she watched the shifters moving in rhythm around it. “I’ve never seen a gathering like this before.”
He only held out the horn toward her, offering what remained. She hesitated. This was hardly the sort of thing one did at a proper soirée. But really, what harm could it do?
“Just stay out of the way when we shift.” His voice dipped lower, carrying a quiet warning. “Or else you won’t even make it to morning.”
Evelyne gaped as he turned and walked away.
She looked down at the drink and took a small sniff. It was definitely not wine or champagne like in Caltheris. No, this smelled strong, like it could strip paint off walls. She took a tentative sip and instantly choked on the bitterness, her face grimacing.
Alaric’s laugh rumbled nearby. “Not a fan of their ale?”
She turned to see him slowly approaching, his bronzed skin glowing in the firelight. He had shed his tunic, matching the other men in the pack. She had never seen him like this before—bare-chested, at ease. And though she tried not to stare, she found her eyes drawn to him.
She remembered the last time his hands had been on her. The way he’d pressed against her, the heat of his mouth on hers—
A flush crept up her cheeks, and she quickly pushed the memory aside, letting the sting of his betrayal take its place.
“Well, it’s certainly not wine,” she muttered.
Alaric’s grin grew as he tipped his head back, taking a long, easy sip from his horn, the picture of carefree indulgence. “Come on,” he said, nudging her. “Let’s try to enjoy the night.”
Before she could protest, he gently took her wrist and led her toward a circle of shifters sitting in the grass, drinking and talking.
Her stomach relaxed when she spotted Heidara already seated, her bright green eyes twinkling with delight.
The two black-haired men Evelyne recognized from the night of her capture were seated beside her.
Between them was a striking woman with cascading fire-red hair.
She couldn’t help but notice their unwavering focus on the young beauty.
Both men stared at her as if the rest of the world had faded into nothing.
Directly across from Heidara sat Holden. Evelyne’s body went rigid, but before she could resist, Alaric leaned in and whispered, “You said we needed answers. We need to play the part.”
“Come, sit with us!” Heidara called out excitedly.
Alaric led Evelyne forward, and she lowered herself onto the grass. Holden’s gaze still lingered, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter. He was enjoying her discomfort. She knew it.
Instead of looking away, she turned to face him, meeting his stare head-on and arching a brow in challenge. How many had backed down from that cold, predatory look? She wouldn’t be one of them. She was done being afraid.
Holden smiled wickedly. “Do you like what you see, little viper?”
Evelyne tilted her head. “Should I? And why do you call me that?”
He laughed before taking a long drink. “Because I like a woman with a bite.”
“And I like a man who knows when he’s about to get bitten,” she shot back.
Holden’s eyes glinted with intrigue. “Perhaps I’ll see just how sharp your teeth are out there.” He nodded toward the fire, where dancers moved in pulsing, instinctive rhythm, their bodies tangled and lost to the beat.
Her stomach sank. She couldn’t move like that. Couldn’t let someone touch her that way, not with so much feeling, not with so many eyes on her. But she wouldn’t let her nerves show, no matter what she felt.
“Or perhaps you’ll show me what you’re capable of first,” she countered. “Since I like the view so much.”
Holden’s tongue flicked across his lower lip as he leaned in, close enough that she could feel the heat of him. “Careful,” he murmured. “Don’t tempt me.”
Then he pulled away, walking off to refill his drink, leaving Evelyne to release a slow, trembling breath.
She turned her focus back to Heidara just as the young woman grabbed Alaric’s arm and beamed. “Come dance with me!”
Evelyne laughed as Alaric was hauled to his feet, the expression on his face somewhere between amused and panicked.
Heidara wasted no time leading him toward the fire, where the beat of the drums deepened, the energy of the dance wild.
To Evelyne’s surprise, Alaric caught on quickly.
Soon, his hands found Heidara’s waist. Not in the intimate, seductive way she’d seen before, but fluid and comfortable.
His laughter was real, the kind she hadn’t heard from him in a long time.
Holden returned, dropping onto the ground beside her and handing her another horn of ale. “You’re fun,” he admitted. “But not as convincing of a flirt as you think. What is it you really want?”
Her fingers tightened around the drink. He was sharper than she’d given him credit for. She took a long sip, forcing herself not to gag at its strength, and then turned to face him fully.
“Why are you hunting those who’ve been… corrupted?” she asked, all traces of humor gone.
Holden exhaled, considering her for a long moment before answering.
“Because we’re trying to protect our pack.
The magic is spreading through the eastern lands like a disease.
Every day, it gets closer.” He took another drink before continuing.
“And our alpha… He can feel when it’s close.
We can’t afford to lose any more of our pack to it. ”
A lump formed in Evelyne’s throat. They’d lost people, just like she had. Reuben. Cillian. But Cillian was still alive, and she would not lose hope.
“What happens to them?” she asked quietly. “To the ones who go dark?”
Holden’s expression hardened. “At first, they resist. A few hold out longer than you’d think. But it always wins. First the mind goes, then the body. After that… the person they were is lost.”
Lost. The very thing the sigil had foretold. A chill passed over Evelyne. “Lost how?”
“They become something unrecognizable,” he said darkly.
“Blood-fed things—swifter, stronger, and utterly mindless. There are nights when four of us are barely enough to bring one down.” A beat passed.
“Your friend Reuben… He was changing. We had to act before the rot rooted deeper, or leapt to one of us.”
“That can’t be right,” she whispered, her thoughts racing.
“My brother—”
She stopped short, but the damage was already done.
Holden’s eyes sharpened. “What about your brother?”
She swallowed hard. “He was taken over a week ago, and now we are trying to find him.”
“Are we talking taken—or infected? Because if it’s the same darkness that claimed Reuben…” He shook his head. “Don’t hold on to hope.”