5.1: An Unexpected Meeting
The moon hung heavy in the sky, casting its pale light over the endless stretch of the Ebon Hollow Forest. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, but underneath it lingered something more-something dangerous.
Lyra had sensed it long before she saw him.
She moved silently through the trees, her movements effortless in her wolf form. Her senses had been heightened ever since her first transformation, every scent, and every sound more vivid than ever before.
And yet, the presence that sent a shiver through her spine was unlike anything she had encountered.
A predator.
Not one of her kind. Not a wolf.
A vampire.
The realization made her instincts flare in warning. Her fur bristled, her claws digging into the soil. What was a vampire doing this deep into werewolf territory?
She should have retreated. Should have returned to her pack and alerted them. But something held her in place, something she couldn't explain.
Curiosity.
Or something darker.
Silently, she crept closer, weaving between the shadows. And then she saw him.
A lone figure stood near the banks of a moonlit stream, his presence both commanding and unnerving. The wind carried his scent to her-cold, ancient, tinged with blood.
Vladimir Drakovich.
The Vampire Lord himself.
Lyra's breath hitched as she studied him. He was unlike any creature she had ever seen-tall and elegant, his long black coat billowing around him like shadows come to life. His dark hair fell in waves past his shoulders, framing a face too perfect to be mortal.
And then, as if he had sensed her all along, he turned.
Their eyes met.
The world around them seemed to slow, the night air thick with unspoken tension. His gaze was piercing-a deep, haunting crimson that sent a shiver down her spine.
He knew what she was.
And she knew what he was.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Then, to her shock, he smiled.
"Well now," his voice was smooth, laced with something darkly amused. "A little wolf, all alone in the woods. How very reckless of you."
Lyra's instincts screamed at her to flee. To shift back, to run. But something in his voice, in his presence, held her in place.
She took a cautious step forward, baring her fangs in warning. "You shouldn't be here," she growled, her voice rougher in this form.
Vladimir tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "And yet, here I am."
A flicker of something dangerous passed through his eyes as he studied her. "Tell me, little wolf... why haven't you run?"
Lyra stiffened. The question unsettled her because she didn't have an answer.
She had never been this close to a vampire before, let alone him. Everything in her should have screamed in defiance, told her to attack or escape.
And yet-
She stepped forward instead.
A ghost of a smirk touched Viadimir's lips. "Interesting."
The air between them was charged, the divide between their worlds hanging by a fragile thread.
Then-a sound.
A rustling in the distance, the distinct scent of approaching wolves.
The pack.
They were close.
Viadimir's eyes darkened as he sensed them too. The moment between them shattered, reality crashing back in.
"You should run, little wolf," he murmured, voice like silk. "Before they find us both."
Lyra hesitated, something inside her twisting. She should be relieved. She should be grateful that her pack was near.
But instead, all she felt was the ache of something unspoken, something forbidden.
Vladimir took a step back, melting into the shadows as if he had never been there.
And just like that, he was gone.
Leaving Lyra alone under the cold, merciless moon.
5.2: The Tension Grows
The scent of her pack filled the air, a mixture of pine, damp earth, and raw power. Lyra stood frozen, heart hammering in her chest as Viadimir's presence faded into the shadows. She could still feel his gaze on her, like an imprint left on her soul.
What had just happened?
A vampire, alone in werewolf territory. Not just any vampire-Viadimir Drakovich, the most feared of his kind.
And yet, he had not attacked. He had not run.
Neither had she.
The sound of breaking branches signaled the arrival of her pack. Lyra barely had time to shift back before Elias and two other wolves emerged from the trees. Their golden eyes flickered with suspicion, their hackles still raised from sensing an intruder.
"Lyra!" Elias was the first to step forward, his gaze sweeping over her. "We smelled a vampire nearby. Are you hurt?"
Lyra shook her head, forcing herself to appear composed. "I'm fine."
Elias frowned, studying her closely. "You look... shaken."
Lyra clenched her fists, trying to steady her breathing. The last thing she needed was for them to suspect something was wrong. She couldn't explain why she had hesitated, why she hadn't attacked, why she had let him walk away.
"I was tracking the scent when I lost it," she lied, keeping her voice steady. "Whatever it was, it's gone now."
One of the wolves beside Elias let out a low growl. "A vampire this deep into our land is a declaration of war."
Elias nodded grimly. "Ulric will want to hear about this."
Lyra's stomach twisted at the mention of her father. What would he say if he knew? Would he have believed that she simply let the vampire slip away?
Or worse-would he have suspected the truth?
"Let's go," Elias said, giving Lyra one last searching look before turning back toward the village.
Lyra followed silently, but her mind remained behind-back at the stream, where everything had changed.
The Howling Moon Village
The pack returned just before dawn, the sky streaked with the first hints of morning light. Torches still burned outside the wooden stronghold, casting flickering shadows along the dirt paths.
Inside the great hall, Ulric, the Alpha of the Howling Moon Clan, sat at the long wooden table, his scarred face set in a deep frown. The moment Elias spoke of the vampire sighting, his expression darkened.
"They dare trespass this close?" His voice was rough, edged with fury.
Lyra kept her head down as the warriors murmured in agreement. She could feel her father's sharp gaze flicked to her. "And you, Lyra? Did you see anything?"
She forced herself to meet his eyes. "Only traces of their scent," she answered, hoping her voice sounded unwavering. "But they were gone before I got close."
Ulric exhaled sharply. "A lone vampire wouldn't risk entering our lands without reason." He leaned forward, his fists pressing into the table. "We need to prepare. If the Drakovich family is testing our borders, it won't be long before blood is spilled."
A murmur of approval ran through the gathered warriors.
Lyra's stomach churned. She had always been raised to see vampires as the enemy. They were **ruthless, cruel, and unnatural.** Her father had told her stories of their wars, how the Drakovich clan feasted on the blood of their fallen foes, leaving only husks in their wake.
And yet-
She thought of Viadimir's eyes, crimson and knowing.
She thought of the way he had looked at her.
Not as prey.
Not as an enemy.
As something else.
Ulric's voice cut through her thoughts. "We double our patrols. If we catch one of those leeches trespassing, there will be no mercy."
Lyra flinched at his words, guilt twisting in her chest.
Because she had already shown mercy.
And if her father ever found out... it would be her blood that was spilled.
Later That Night
Sleep didn't come easily.
Lyra lay on her back in her small wooden cabin, staring at the ceiling, the weight of the night pressing against her. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him.
Vladimir.
The way he had spoken to her like he had known her for far longer than a fleeting moment.
The way he had smiled, as if he had seen something in her that she had not yet understood.
The tension inside her chest coiled tighter.
Why hadn't he killed her?
Why hadn't she killed him?
A part of her wanted to believe it was some trick, that he had let her go because he was toying with her. That would be the logical answer. The one her father would believe.
But Lyra knew better.
Vladimir had chosen not to strike.
Just as she had chosen not to run.
A dangerous understanding had passed between them, an unspoken recognition of something neither of them could explain.
And she feared-no, she knew-this was not the last time they would meet.
5.3: The First Kiss
The forest was eerily silent beneath the silver glow of the moon as if the night itself held its breath. Lyra's pulse raced a steady thunder in her ears, drowning out the distant calls of her pack. She wasn't supposed to be here.
Yet, she couldn't stay away.
Her feet had carried her back to the hidden clearing, the same place where she had first laid eyes on **Viadimir Drakovich.** She wasn't sure what had drawn her here tonight-fate, madness, or the unshakable pull of something forbidden.
The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the faintest scent of blood and nightshade.
He was here.
Her heart leaped into her throat as she turned, and there he stood-tall, regal, and hauntingly beautiful. The moonlight caught the sharp edges of his pale features, his crimson eyes gleaming with something unreadable.
"You came," Vladimir murmured, stepping forward.
Lyra exhaled, her body tense. "I shouldn't have."
His lips curved into a knowing smirk. "And yet, here you stand."
His voice was a spell, wrapping around her, pulling her closer despite every instinct screaming at her to run. Lyra swallowed hard, her fingers twitching at her sides. She had spent her life fearing creatures like him. She had been raised to believe vampires were nothing more than monsters.
So why did she feel drawn to him?
"What do you want from me?" she whispered.
Vladimir tilted his head, studying her with quiet intensity. "The better question is-what do you want, Lyra?"
The way he said her name sent a shiver through her as if he had carved it into the night itself. Lyra took a shaky breath. "I don't know."
He took another step forward, closing the distance between them. "Liar."
Lyra's breath hitched. She could smell him now-something dark, ancient, and intoxicating. A predator's scent, yet not repulsive. It was alluring. Dangerous.
"I should kill you," she whispered.
Vladimir chuckled a low and velvety sound. "Should you?" His fingers grazed the underside of her chin, tilting her face toward his. "Then why haven't you?"
She had no answer.
His touch was ice against her heated skin, a stark contrast between death and life. And still, she didn't pull away.
Lyra had fought countless battles and had faced threats that would send lesser wolves cowering. But nothing had ever unnerved her like this moment-like the way Vladimir was looking at her.
Like she was something worth wanting.
"You're trembling," he observed, his voice barely above a whisper.
She hated that he was right. "I'm not afraid of you."
Viadimir's smirk softened into something unreadable. "Then what are you afraid of?"
Lyra's lips parted, but no words came. Because she knew.
She wasn't afraid of him.
She was afraid of what she wanted.
Her hands moved before her mind could stop them. One palm against the cold fabric of his coat, the other curling lightly against his wrist. She felt the steady, unnatural stillness of his body-no heartbeat. Yet, at this moment, he felt more alive than anyone she had ever met.
Viadimir's eyes darkened, his own breath uneven. "Lyra..."
It was the first time his voice had wavered.
Her fingers curled against his chest. "Shut up."
Then she kissed him.
It was reckless. It was madness.
But gods, it felt right.
His lips were cool against hers, firm yet unexpectedly soft. For a heartbeat, Viadimir stilled, as if startled by her boldness. But then-
Then he responded.
A growl rumbled low in his throat as he pulled her closer, his hand tangling in her hair. The kiss deepened, and Lyra felt herself burning, every nerve alive with something raw and unspoken. The world around them vanished, drowned in the feverish heat of the moment.
She didn't care that he was a vampire.
She didn't care that this was forbidden.
She only cared that she wanted this.
Wanted him.
When they finally broke apart, Lyra was breathless, her body pressed against him as if gravity itself had shifted. Viadimir's forehead rested against hers, his fingers still tangled in her hair.
"I should not have let that happen," he murmured, though there was no regret in his tone.
Lyra let out a shaky laugh. "Then why did you?"
His thumb brushed against her cheek, his expression unreadable. "Because I am just as much a fool as you."
The weight of what they had just done settled between them. A werewolf and a vampire, tangled in something neither of their worlds would ever accept.
Lyra stepped back first, though it felt like ripping a part of herself away. "We can't do this," she whispered
.
Viadimir's gaze never wavered. "And yet, we did."
She turned, knowing that if she didn't leave now, she never would. But as she ran back toward her village, she knew one terrible, undeniable truth.
This was not the last time she would kiss Viadimir Drakovich.
It was only the beginning.