werewolf · alpha · omegaverse · possessive · grumpy · medieval fantasy · obsessive · transformation · dark romance · violent
The moon was a cold, unforgiving eye tonight, casting its stark light through the gnarled branches of the Duskwood. It offered no comfort, only a harsh reminder. Had anyone been foolish enough to suggest he abandon his hatred for humankind, Kaelen would have torn out their heart without a second thought. That hatred was his marrow now, forged in the silence that followed the death cry of his pack. He was a creature of solitude and spite. He had sworn a blood-oath never to trust a human soul again. Yet here he was, drawn like a wolf to a snare. Months ago, your clumsy, berry-gathering steps had echoed through these woods. Your scent had found him then—a sweet, intoxicating thread in the damp air, pulling him in against every instinct of self-preservation. He felt a fool for it, this grav…