A Kiss by a werewolf

moonlit promises

**Chapter 3: Moonlit Promises**

The night had finally come. The full moon hung high in the sky, round and luminous, its glow spilling through the trees and casting long shadows over the forest. Every breath of wind felt alive, as though the very air was charged with ancient power. Inside Elara's cottage, the tension was palpable, an undercurrent that neither she nor Lucian could escape.

Lucian paced back and forth in the center of the room, his body already feeling the first tremors of the change. His skin prickled with an uncomfortable heat, muscles tensing beneath the surface. He knew that soon, he would no longer be himself.

“Maybe it’s best if I go deeper into the forest,” Lucian muttered, his voice strained with worry. “Far away from here. From you.”

Elara stood by the hearth, her hands gripping a small pouch filled with herbs she had prepared. She had done everything she could—charms hung in the windows, protective symbols were carved into the wooden beams, and the room smelled of the calming tinctures she had brewed. But despite all of her efforts, she knew there were no guarantees. She looked at Lucian, his face taut with tension, and her heart ached for him.

“No,” she said firmly, stepping closer to him. “We face this together, Lucian. You don’t have to run. Not from me.”

His eyes flashed with doubt, but there was also something else—gratitude. He reached out and took her hand, his grip tight, almost desperate. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.”

“You won’t hurt me,” Elara said, though she wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself. “I believe in you.”

Lucian's jaw clenched, but he nodded, allowing himself to believe, if only for a moment, that maybe he could hold on to a piece of himself through the transformation. Maybe her faith in him would be enough.

The moonlight outside grew brighter, more intense, and Lucian could feel the change starting to overtake him. His skin burned, and his bones began to shift painfully. He released Elara’s hand and stumbled back, gripping the edge of the table for support.

“Go,” he gasped, doubling over as a growl of pain escaped his throat. “You need to go now!”

But Elara didn’t move. She stood firm, her eyes locked on Lucian’s, refusing to leave him in his darkest hour.

“I’m staying,” she said, her voice steady despite the fear that gripped her heart. “I promised.”

Lucian’s body contorted as the transformation took hold. His face twisted, his eyes flashing gold as fur sprouted across his skin. His hands, once gentle, now morphed into claws, sharp and deadly. He let out a deep, guttural growl that reverberated through the room, shaking the very foundation of the cottage.

Elara’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, terror gripped her. The man she loved was gone, replaced by a hulking creature with glowing amber eyes and a feral snarl. But deep inside those monstrous eyes, she still saw a flicker of Lucian—the man, not the beast.

“Lucian,” she whispered, stepping toward him cautiously. “It’s me. I’m here.”

The werewolf snarled, its chest heaving with labored breaths as it stared at her. It took a step forward, the floor creaking beneath its weight. Elara’s heart raced, but she forced herself to stay calm. She raised the small pouch of herbs in her hand and slowly scattered them into the air. The scent of sage and lavender filled the room, mingling with the heavy musk of the wolf.

“Remember who you are,” she said, her voice soft but commanding. “You’re not just this. You’re more. You’re Lucian.”

The beast hesitated, its snarl softening as it looked at her with something like recognition. For a fleeting moment, Elara thought she had reached him, that the man inside the monster was fighting his way back to the surface.

But then the beast roared, a deafening sound that sent a shiver down her spine. It lunged forward, and Elara barely had time to react as she stumbled backward, her body colliding with the wall. The werewolf stood over her, its massive claws sinking into the wooden floor on either side of her.

For a moment, they locked eyes—human and beast. Elara’s breath came in shallow, rapid bursts, but she refused to look away. She could see the war raging behind those golden eyes, the battle between the curse and the man she loved.

“Lucian,” she whispered again, her voice trembling but resolute. “I know you’re in there. Please, come back to me.”

The werewolf snarled, its fangs bared inches from her face. But then, something changed. The snarl faded, and the creature’s breathing slowed. Its gaze softened, and it backed away, as though some invisible force was pulling it back.

Elara watched in stunned silence as the werewolf retreated, shaking its head violently as if trying to rid itself of the beastly instincts. For a moment, the air was thick with silence, broken only by the sound of Lucian’s ragged breathing as his form began to shrink and shift once more.

The fur receded, the claws retracted, and before her stood Lucian—human again, though barely able to stand. His body trembled, slick with sweat, his breath shallow and weak. He fell to his knees, gasping for air, his face twisted with the exhaustion of the transformation.

Elara rushed to his side, her heart pounding with relief and fear. She knelt beside him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. “Lucian,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

He looked up at her, his eyes weary and filled with pain. “I almost… I almost lost control,” he rasped, his voice hoarse.

“But you didn’t,” she said, her voice fierce with conviction. “You came back. You fought it.”

Lucian’s gaze fell, his body sagging with exhaustion. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep fighting it.”

Elara cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. “You’re not fighting this alone. I’m with you, always. We’ll find a way. Together.”

For the first time since the night had begun, a small, weary smile tugged at Lucian’s lips. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.

Elara leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. “You deserve more than this curse will ever let you believe. And I’m not giving up on you.”

As they sat there, wrapped in each other’s warmth despite the cold, unforgiving night, Elara felt something shift. The moon was still full, and the curse was far from broken, but in that moment, they had won a small battle. Lucian had fought against the darkness, and with her by his side, he had come back.

The night was far from over, and the full moon still hung heavy in the sky. But for now, in the quiet aftermath of the storm, Lucian and Elara had a fragile victory—and, more importantly, hope.

And under that pale, moonlit sky, they made a silent promise—to fight the curse, the darkness, and whatever else came their way. Together.