Elara's POV

"Maybe fake dating him wasn't so bad after all."

I sighed in relief, clutching my bag tighter. For once, Alric hadn't misunderstood me or mocked me. He had turned on Lyra instead, cutting her down in front of everyone. I never thought I'd see the day.

It was 4 a.m. by the time I finished my shift and dragged myself out of my uniform. The streets were empty, damp with the chill of night. I was half-asleep, ready to collapse into bed, when a sound froze me mid-step.

Breathy. Urgent. "Alric... please... touch me."

I stopped dead. My chest tightened. Was that-?

I turned my head slowly.

In the dim corner of the street, two figures tangled together in the shadows. A man's broad shoulders, a woman's desperate hands tugging at him. Their mouths locked hard, bodies pressed close.

My throat went dry. My feet refused to move.

The man tilted his head, dark hair falling across his face. I didn't need to see more. I knew that frame, that voice, the way the world seemed to bend around his presence.

Alric.

I tore my gaze away so fast my neck ached. Whatever it was-it wasn't my business. He had a reputation, after all. Wild. Reckless. Dangerous. Maybe this was just... him being him.

But the sound of her moan-his name tangled in her plea-chased me all the way home.

★★★

The next day arrived too quickly.

The stadium was already packed by the time I slipped into the student stands. Flags waved, drums pounded, and the announcer's voice cracked over the speakers, hyping the crowd. This wasn't just a game. It was his game-the championship.

And somehow, after mastering faking smiles and handholding, I had perfected the role of Alric Harlow's girlfriend. At least, in everyone else's eyes.

My stomach churned as I spotted him on the ice. He looked like a machine-skating sharp, stick clashing with bone-rattling force. Too focused. Too angry.

Ulric Hale skated close, jaw set, movements sharp with something more than competitiveness. Every chance he got, he slashed his stick near Alric's legs, aiming for bruises not goals.

The crowd hissed, the referees blew warnings, but Ulric didn't stop. His grin grew sharper each time Alric narrowly avoided him.

I gripped the rail, nails digging into my palm. Alric was fast-faster than Ulric could anticipate. Every scheme Ulric set up, Alric dodged it with ease. It was almost... satisfying, watching him win at a game that wasn't just about hockey.

Then came the snap.

The referee blew the whistle, arm raised high. Penalty-against Alric.

The crowd erupted into chaos. Half shouted in outrage, half cheered like they'd been waiting for this.

Ulric smirked. Alric's face hardened.

Before I could process it, Alric grabbed the referee's arm. Not like a player protesting a call-no, it was harsher, sharper. The ref cried out, stumbling back. His sleeve tore, and red welts slashed across his skin.

The entire stadium gasped.

I froze, my breath caught in my chest. Because I saw it. Clearer than anyone else.

Those weren't nails.

They were claws.

The hall buzzed with panic, eyes locked on Alric. Shock. Confusion. Fear. The medical team rushed to the referee, pressing cloth to the blood dripping down his arm. Students shouted over each other-some calling it an accident, others swearing Alric had attacked him.

No one noticed me slip away.

★★★

I pushed through the heavy doors and stepped into the night air, lungs aching as though I hadn't breathed in hours.

The rooftop balcony stretched before me, cold wind whipping my hair. And then I saw it.

The full moon hung heavy and bright above the city, silver light spilling across the rooftop tiles. My chest tightened. Something about it felt... alive.

My lips parted, and for a moment, it wasn't the chaos I remembered-it was my mother. Her laughter. The way she'd hum under the moonlight while braiding my hair, whispering, "The moon makes even broken things shine."

Tears threatened, but I blinked them back, clutching the railing.

A thud snapped me back.

I spun-and froze.

Alric was there. Alone. His fist smashed into the brick wall with brutal force. Blood smeared across the stone, dripping from his knuckles. He hit it again, harder, like he was trying to break himself before he broke the world.

I opened my mouth, words tangled in my throat. "You'll... you'll break your hand if you keep that up."

His head jerked toward me.

For a second-just a fleeting second-his eyes weren't the stormy gray everyone knew. They burned red, glowing under the moonlight.

I gasped. My back pressed against the railing instinctively.

But just as quickly, the glow vanished. His eyes returned to normal, shadowed and unreadable.

And yet-I knew what I saw.

"What are you looking at?"

Alric's voice was lower, deeper than usual-like it vibrated straight through my bones.

I was still clutching his hand, knuckles raw and bleeding from the wall, the heat of his skin searing into mine.

"Tell me," he pressed, his gaze sharp, cutting through me like glass. "What did you see?"

My chest rose and fell too fast. I stepped back, but he followed, each step closing the distance until my back hit the cold wall. No way out. His shadow loomed, caging me in.

"I... I didn't..." My voice broke. "Your eyes. They... they weren't-"

His jaw flexed. Silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until it felt like the night itself was holding its breath.

Then-footsteps. Fast. Echoing closer.

Alric moved in a blur. His lips slammed against mine, rough, forceful, his hand locking me in place as he spun me hard against the wall. His tongue shoved past my lips, stealing my breath, sucking on my lower lips like he owned the air in my lungs.

I pushed hard on his chest, desperate for space, but he only crushed me tighter, his forceful kiss making me breathless, as sounds of his lips slamming on mine filled my ears.

My eyes flew open-and met his eyes.

They weren't normal. Not anymore.

Under the cold wash of moonlight, they glowed-deep, violent red

Alric's POV

I hated myself.

I hated fate.

And I hated this cursed wolf inside me.

For nine years, I'd kept the beast caged. Buried. Starved. But under the full moon, the cracks always showed. Tonight was no different.

I had promised myself-I wouldn't lose control. Not here. Not in front of her.

And yet... those eyes of mine betrayed me. Red, burning, inhuman. She saw. She saw too much.

I should've pushed her away. I should've silenced her with words, or threats, or anything else.

But the footsteps were getting closer. Whoever it was-it wasn't human. My wolf knew it instantly, the way every hair on my body bristled. Too dangerous to fight here. Too risky to reveal myself.

So I did the only thing that made sense.

I crushed my mouth against hers.

Her lips were warm, trembling, her heartbeat slamming against my chest like a trapped bird. She tried to push me back-fragile, desperate-but I only held her tighter. Better she think me reckless, cruel, even lust-drunk... than let the truth slip out.

Because the truth would kill her.

I deepened the kiss, sucking on her lips, biting down until the taste of her nearly drowned out the blood already burning on my tongue. Her scent-sweet, For the way her small breath smelled like the life I had no right to take.

Damn it. She wasn't supposed to matter.

But she did. Too much.

And that made her dangerous.

"You would have been better if you'd stayed blind." I whispered into her ears.

For a second the footsteps that'd been closing in vanished, and the beast I'd been flinging at the edges of control finally eased. First full moon in nine years I'd had anyone this close. Tiny miracle-if miracles smelled like iron and smoke.

I slammed my fist into the wall one last time, rolled my shoulder, and let my back hit the bricks. I inhaled until my rib protested. Behind me she sniffed-a small, fragile sound-and I realized I still didn't know her name. Surprise, surprise.

She wiped her face like she'd been taught tears are private business. Cute. I should've let her walk. My rule's simple: use and dump. Clean, efficient. No complications. Life's easier that way.

She didn't read the memo.

She was the stupid anomaly I'd kept because Ulric wouldn't stop ruining everything. Beating him yesterday felt like ripping out an old tooth-relief, hot and sudden. Killing him outright had crossed my mind. Brutal, satisfying. Impractical. My career doesn't survive murder. Who knew morals could be inconvenient?

She tried to slip away and I hauled her back. My fingers were rough on her chin; I forced her to look at me.

Ocean-blue eyes under the moon-maybe glitter from tears, maybe some hopeless belief. They caught the light like glass that could be cut. I wanted to smash them. I also wanted to keep them. Both were bad ideas.

My gaze dropped to her lips. Small. Wet. Dangerous. Far more tempting than all the girls I'd used and tossed. The wolf thudded in my ribs, a warning drum. The man almost answered.

For a second-because I'm an idiot and because the universe hates me– I almost kissed her again.

"Perfect," I muttered. "My worst habit and my worst enemy wrapped in one tidy package."

"Le... let go of me," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath, shaky, like she was afraid I'd snap her in two.

Even her rebellion sounded like a plea. Cute. Tonight of all nights, though, I wasn't in the mood to bully this little chipmunk.

"Why do wo-" I started, ready to mock whatever weak excuse she was about to throw at me, but the sharp buzz in my pocket cut me off. Once. Twice. Then again, insistent as hell.

I growled low, snatching the phone out like it had personally offended me.

The headlines were clear and screaming across the screen:

"Popular Hockey Player Alric Harlow Caught in Violent Clash with Referee."

Perfect. Fucking perfect. News like this always spread faster than wildfire, and I was no stranger to the spotlight. Normally, I could shrug it off-let them call me a beast, a brute, a menace. They weren't wrong.

But this? This wasn't just about me. This was about Ulric, about the poison he dripped into every corner of my life. The bastard had bribed a referee, and the idiot had the audacity to take his side in front of me.

I cracked my knuckles, the memory still sweet. "Next time he won't dare," I muttered, a dark grin tugging at my lips. "Referees don't forget broken ribs so easily."

While muttering my anger under my breath, I almost missed it-her body swaying, about to knock out cold. Good. She should leave. I wanted her gone.

And yet... no.

Her presence was irritating, suffocating even, but the thought of her absence? Awkward. Empty.

"Stay a little," I said, the words foreign on my tongue. The first time in nine years I'd asked anyone to do that. Because truth was, I didn't want to be alone. Not yet.

She blinked at me, confused, fragile. To me she was still nothing-an unbitter pawn, irrelevant in the grand scheme of my war.

"I have work..." she whispered.

"In the bakery? Or the dishwashing place?" My smirk stretched wide, mocking. "Neither's exactly worth bragging about."

I laughed, but the sound tasted bitter the second it left me. Her eyes dropped, sadness spilling into them so fast I almost cursed myself. Why the hell was she so sensitive? It wasn't even an insult-it was just a fact.

"You're coming with me tomorrow," I said flatly, cutting off her silence. "To the hockey team headquarters. I've got an important meeting with the board of directors and sponsors."

"I... I have work," she tried again, weak but stubborn.

I leaned in, my voice a low snarl against her ear. "I'm your important work." I inhaled her hair-cheap shampoo, sure, but clean, oddly pleasant. "And besides, it's the weekend."

Her chin trembled in my grip. Then I felt it-something wet trickling against my fingers. I tilted her face up, and there it was. Tears, spilling freely, pooling in those ocean-blue eyes under the moonlight.

I smirked despite myself. "How much more water do you keep in those beautiful eyes, hmm?"