The storm came without warning.
Dark clouds rolled over Silver Moon Palace as dusk settled, the sky bruised purple and gray, thunder rumbling like an unsettled beast. The wolves in the barracks were restless. Even the servants moved with quiet unease, sensing the shift in the air.
Kael felt it deep in his bones.
He stood alone in the council hall long after the elders had departed, fists braced against the cold stone table. Their words still echoed in his head—accusations wrapped in concern, pressure disguised as loyalty.
"You must accept what has already happened."
"Isolde carries your future."
"The pack needs certainty."
Lies.
His wolf snarled, furious, pacing inside him like a caged force.
"I did not choose her," Kael growled into the empty hall. "And I will not be bound by deception."
Lightning flashed outside the tall windows, illuminating his reflection—an Alpha torn between duty and instinct.
And instinct pulled him only one way.
—
Lyria was in the west garden when he found her.
Rain had not yet fallen, but the air was heavy, damp with promise. She knelt beside a cluster of moonleaf herbs, fingers stained green, hair slipping loose from its braid.
She looked up as Kael approached—and froze.
"My lord—"
"Lyria," he said quietly. Not Alpha. Not command. Just her name.
She rose slowly, heart pounding. "You shouldn't be here."
"Neither should you," he replied. "Yet here we both are."
Thunder cracked overhead.
For a moment, neither spoke. The silence between them stretched, not awkward—but alive.
"You heard the rumors," Lyria said softly, eyes lowered.
"Yes."
"And?" she asked, forcing herself to meet his gaze.
Kael stepped closer. Close enough that she could feel the heat of him, the restrained power humming beneath his skin.
"They are false."
Her breath caught. "The palace believes them."
"I don't care what the palace believes."
That startled her. "You should," she whispered. "It could destroy you."
His hand lifted—stopping just short of touching her cheek. The restraint in that pause said more than any kiss could have.
"I have been cursed since childhood," Kael said quietly. "Bound, watched, used. But when I stand near you… the curse goes silent."
Her eyes widened.
"My wolf sees you," he continued. "Even if I cannot sense the bond the way I should."
The air between them thickened.
"This is dangerous," Lyria said, even as her body leaned toward him.
"Yes," Kael agreed. "But so is every truth worth keeping."
The first drop of rain fell.
Then another.
By the time the sky opened fully, they were already moving—seeking shelter beneath the old stone pavilion at the garden's edge. Wet hair clung to skin. Breath mingled. The world narrowed to the space between them.
Kael's forehead rested against hers. "Tell me to stop."
Lyria swallowed. Her hands trembled where they rested against his chest.
"I can't," she whispered.
The kiss that followed was not rushed.
It was reverent. Careful. As though both feared the moment would shatter if taken too greedily.
When the pavilion door closed behind them, the storm swallowed the rest.
—
The night passed unseen.
No witnesses.
No proclamations.
Only truth spoken in touches and shared breath.
And somewhere between rain and heartbeat, between wolf and woman—
Fate took hold.
—
Days later, Lyria stood alone in her small chamber, staring at her reflection.
Her hand rested against her stomach, uncertainty fluttering beneath her ribs.
Something had changed.
She could feel it.
Far across the palace, Kael paused mid-step, his wolf surging with sudden awareness—sharp, protective, awakened.
"What is this?" he murmured.
The curse stirred.
And for the first time in his life—
So did hope.