The Reign Of The Moonstone

"She tried so desperately to protect you from me, but you went and brought me to you yourself, didn't you?"

My brown eyes were fully engulfed in a simmering crimson as they met a pair of peacock-greens I hadn't seen in two centuries.

"Well, hello there," I purred, my voice, lethal silk. "Little Alpha King."

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Kamaria was once an orphaned she-wolf, the runt of the pack with the sole goal of surviving the nights that left her cold, hollow, and alone. Relief came in the form of peacock-green eyes and a charming smile-a man fated to be hers. She didn't know she was being traded from one prison to another, where even the staggering joy she'd claimed would be ruthlessly ripped away.

Two centuries after, fate brought her back to the very place that bled her life of colour. But the scorned she-wolf is gone; in her place stands a Titan, forged in the shards of gods and fueled by decades of trials painted by her own blood.

As she rains retribution upon those who bereaved her of her youth, a new shadow emerges.

When sin arrives with a pair of wings and eyes of crimson and gold, Kamaria faces her final choice: To take the hand of one who rivals her own power, or push away the only heart capable of thawing hers.

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"Give me your hands," I commanded softly.
She stiffened, her silver hair shimmering as their strands were kissed by the golden rays of the sun that rushed through her side window. "I'm fine, Cacciatore. I don't need your-"

I didn't wait for her to finish. I reached out and took her hands in mine. They were small, honey-toned, and trembling slightly from the fading adrenaline. Across her knuckles were smears of dark, drying blood-Luther's blood.

My movements were rigid and practised, yet there was a gentleness in my touch that even I didn't fully understand.

"You shouldn't have to carry his filth on your skin," I murmured, my voice a low vibration.

Note: Undergoing major edit.