Coming Back as Enemy's Luna

Taste and Scent

= Mikael =

The negotiation with the Thornelock Pack had been an utter failure. I had entered their territory with a clear plan, confident in my ability to bring them into our fold. After all, they were small, struggling to maintain their relevance in the region. Their Alpha, young and inexperienced, seemed like the perfect target for manipulation. He was a ripe fruit, ready to fall for an offer of protection, a promise of strength in exchange for loyalty. I thought I had him figured out. I was wrong.

Rejection.

Even now, as I led my pack through the winding forest path back to Veyrath, the bitter sting of that word still lingered. Thornelock's Alpha, Steven, had stood before me with a calm that bordered on defiance, turning down my offer without a second thought. He rambled about independence, about the foolishness of seeking shelter under the shadow of a larger pack. The arrogance of it all boiled my blood. How could any leader reject strength? How could anyone turn away from power?

The silence of my pack only deepened my frustration. They had learned long ago to keep their mouths shut when I was in this mood. The only sounds were the steady thud of paws against the forest floor and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. The moon hung high above us, its silver light filtering through the thick canopy of trees. Normally, I found peace in the moon's glow, but tonight, it offered no comfort.

Then, something shifted in the air.

At first, it was a mere sensation, a subtle tingle at the back of my neck, but it was enough to make me stop in my tracks. The familiar silver light of the moon dimmed, replaced by a heavy, crimson hue that bathed the forest in an eerie glow. I sucked in a sharp breath, my heart hammering in my chest. Around me, my pack froze, their bodies tense, as if they, too, sensed the change.

"Alpha," came the low, cautious voice of Lorne, one of my Betas. He didn’t need to say it for me to know. "The Blood Moon."

I could feel it in my bones. The moment the crimson light touched my skin, a surge of primal energy coursed through me. My pulse quickened, every beat resonating with a power that bordered on pain. My senses expanded, sharpened, until everything—the rustle of leaves, the distant howl of a wolf, even the faintest scent of earth and pine—was magnified to an almost unbearable intensity.

Crimson Frenzy.

The curse that plagued Alphas like me.

I growled, my voice gruff and dangerous.

"Stay back," I warned, my eyes flashing with an edge of raw aggression. "Don’t follow me."

Lorne hesitated, his eyes lingering on the darkened woods around us before he gave a slight nod. He gestured for the others to stay back, his gaze hardened with a silent understanding. They all knew the lore, the ancient rules we lived by. An Alpha under the Blood Moon was a force of nature, an uncontrollable storm that could tear through everything in its path, even those closest to him. The frenzy was a trial—an unrelenting test of strength, of control. A trial I had no choice but to face alone.

With a final glance at my pack, I pushed deeper into the forest, my feet brushing against the undergrowth as I walked away. The forest was bathed in a blood-red glow, as though the moon itself had bled across the sky. The light painted the trees in eerie hues, casting long, twisted shadows that seemed to stretch toward me with a life of their own. The air itself felt thick, as if the earth was holding its breath. My chest tightened with each inhale, the frenzy gnawing at my insides, urging me to give in.

It felt like a storm had unleashed itself within me, a violent force tearing at the edges of my mind, clawing at my soul. My instincts roared for release—an all-consuming need to dominate, to conquer, to destroy. My control was slipping, and I had to hold on, or I would lose everything.

A sudden snap of a branch somewhere nearby had me spinning, a primal snarl ripping through my throat. My eyes scanned the darkened woods, heart racing, muscles tensing—but there was nothing there, just the shifting shadows, the trees groaning in the wind.

I clenched my fists, forcing myself to calm down. Focus. Control.

The words echoed in my mind, but they did nothing to stop the rising tide within me. The frenzy was relentless, thrumming beneath my skin, pushing me toward something darker, something I could barely contain.

Then, I smelled it.

Blood.

The scent hit me like a rush of fire, rich and metallic, cutting through the haze of the frenzy. It was intoxicating, drawing me in, sharpening my focus even as it stoked the flames of the storm inside me. My body moved before my mind could catch up, driven by the scent, by the hunger.

The world around me blurred as I followed the trail, the trees and shadows nothing but a haze in my periphery. Everything narrowed to that one, overwhelming scent. The frenzy urged me on, faster, harder.

And then I found it.

A body. Crumpled in a clearing, the red light of the Blood Moon cast long shadows over the motionless form.

At first glance, I thought it was a man. The figure lying in the dirt had the stillness of death, and the blood pooling beneath them was enough to drown out any other detail. But as I drew closer, the delicate curve of her slender form and the cascade of dark hair spilling around her like a halo told me otherwise—she was a woman.

For a moment, I believed she was gone, another lifeless body left in the aftermath of violence. Her limbs were crumpled unnaturally, her pale skin marred with wounds that spoke of a brutal fight. One gash on her side, deep and angry, should have emptied her life away. Her blood painted the ground in crimson streaks, its scent thick in the air and maddeningly sharp.

And yet, she wasn’t gone.

As I watched, her chest rose—a shallow, almost imperceptible movement, but a movement nonetheless. Against all odds, she was alive. Barely hanging on, but alive.

The scent of her blood hit me again, stronger this time, clawing at my control. Before I could even think, my body moved on its own. And before I realized it, I was already standing beside her, my hand gripping her delicate arm.

The frailty of her bones beneath her skin was evident, but the uncontrollable hunger surging within me left no room for hesitation. Without warning, my sharp teeth sank into her flesh, driven by the unbearable itch to tear into someone—to unleash the torment clawing at me from the inside.

But the moment her blood touched my tongue, everything stilled. A potent sweetness overwhelmed my senses, silencing the chaos in my mind. The rich, intoxicating scent of her blood lingered in the air, wrapping around me like a vice, anchoring me in place and forcing me to halt.

Her blood should have ignited the frenzy, pushed me into the madness the Blood Moon demanded.

But it didn’t.

It did the impossible.

It silenced the storm.

I dropped her arm, my breath coming fast and shallow, every instinct in me pulling in opposite directions. The raging need to take, to bite, to claim, fought against an unexplainable calm that her presence forced upon me. The chaos within me ebbed, retreating into something quieter, something almost peaceful.

Why? How?

She stirred faintly, her body trembling as a soft groan escaped her lips. Her eyelashes fluttered, heavy and slow, until finally, her eyes opened. Pain flickered in their depths, sharp and consuming. But there was something else there, too—something that shouldn’t have been possible for someone so close to death.

Defiance. Strength.

Our gazes locked, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.

“You’re… alive,” I murmured, more to myself than to her, as if saying it aloud would make sense of the impossible.

She didn’t answer. Her breathing was shallow, her life hanging by a thread so thin I wasn’t sure it would last another heartbeat. She shouldn’t have survived the blood loss. She shouldn’t have survived any of it. And yet, here she was.

My claws itched to finish it. To end her. The hunger inside me whispered for her blood, demanded I give in. But something stronger, something far more primal, stopped me.

I couldn’t do it.

Something about her tethered me in place. Something about her wouldn’t let me let go.

I knelt beside her, my eyes scanning the jagged wounds that marred her flesh. The injuries were deep, but not beyond healing—if I acted swiftly. Time was her enemy now, and I would have to become her ally.

"You’re fortunate that I saw you," I murmured, my voice quiet but firm.

Her lips trembled as though fighting to form words. I leaned in, the rich, heady scent of her blood weaving through my senses like a drug. She was trying to say something—something urgent.

“S...S...e. M...e,” she rasped, her voice barely a whisper, a ghost of sound carried by the wind.

“What was that?” I asked, my curiosity prickling.

Her mouth moved again, forcing the words from her fragile body. “S-Save... m-me.”

It was all she could manage before her lashes fluttered shut, her consciousness slipping away like the last grains of sand in an hourglass. There was no time to ponder her plea or its meaning.

I had to act.

Gently, I slid my arms beneath her, cradling her broken form. Her blood, still warm, seeped through my clothes, a stark reminder of her fragility—and my own restraint.

As I carried her through the dense forest, my steps were steady, deliberate. The Blood Moon’s hold on me, though still present, had waned. Why her scent quieted the frenzy clawing inside me, I couldn’t understand, but I wasn’t about to question it—not here, not now.

When I broke through the tree line, the pack’s sentries were the first to spot me. Lorne, sharp-eyed as always, stiffened at the sight of the woman in my arms. His gaze darted between us, curiosity flashing in his expression, but he said nothing.

“Alpha...” he began, his tone cautious.

“Prepare a place for her,” I commanded, my voice brooking no argument. “And keep everyone else away. No one goes near her without my permission.”

Lorne nodded, his shoulders squaring as he relayed my orders to the others. They moved swiftly, erecting a temporary camp within moments. I lowered her onto a makeshift bed of blankets and leaves, my gaze lingering on her face. Pale and serene, she seemed so fragile, yet there was a strength in her that defied reason. Her blood, her scent, her resilience, her uncanny effect on the Blood Moon’s curse—it was unlike anything I’d encountered.

As the moon’s crimson light softened to silver, a new unease settled over me. This woman—this stranger—had altered the course of this night, bending it in a direction I hadn’t anticipated.