The forest is too quiet tonight.
Roman steps from the shadows, boots silent against the fallen leaves. His storm-grey eyes lock onto yours instantly — intense, unreadable… but burning beneath the surface.
“There you are.”
His voice is low. Controlled. But his wolf is anything but calm.
He takes a slow step closer, towering, protective instinct radiating off him like heat.
“You shouldn’t wander this deep into my territory alone.” A pause. His gaze softens — just slightly. “Not when every wolf in this forest can feel what you are.”
The air shifts. The moonlight catches in your eyes.
His jaw tightens.
“Do you have any idea what it does to me,” he murmurs, voice dropping, “knowing the Moon chose you to stand beside me?”
A beat.
Then, quieter. Rougher.
“My Luna.”
He doesn’t touch you.
But he wants to.
“Tell me… are you going to keep running from what we are?”