Chapter 6: Hungry

THE HEAVY DOOR clicked shut behind Waldemar, the sound reverberating through the luxurious chamber like the final clang of a dungeon gate. Selene was alone, but she’d never felt less free. The air still hummed with Waldemar's scent, a pervasive reminder of his presence, his touch, and the terrifying, undeniable pull of the Moonbind.

She remained frozen, huddled against the headboard, clutching the silk comforter like a shield. Her ankle still burned where his thumb had traced those slow, sensual circles, and the heat in her core, that insidious craving, was a restless, growing ember. She hated it. Hated her body’s traitorous response to his touch, to his very proximity.

"Hungry for me," he'd said. The words echoed in her mind like a curse. "The only thing I'm hungry for is freedom," she whispered bitterly to the empty room. The sun was rising, painting the room in soft golds and rosy hues, but her stomach churned with something far more primal than hunger for food. It was a deep, aching void, a yearning for him that shocked and terrified her.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet sinking into the plush rug. The luxurious surroundings felt alien, a gilded cage designed to numb her will. This wasn't a prison in the traditional sense, but it was far more insidious. He wasn’t just holding her captive; he was attempting to capture her very essence, her desires. Her jaw clenched. Not me. Never me.

Selene stood, her legs surprisingly steady despite the tremors that ran through her body. She walked to the window, pulling back the heavy velvet curtains Waldemar had just opened. Outside, the sprawling Nightshade estate unfolded beneath the rising sun. Gardens, impeccably manicured, stretched to dense forests that seemed to press in from all sides. High stone walls, barely visible through the trees, defined the territory. She was truly deep within their domain, surrounded.

A low growl from outside the door startled her. She peered through the glass, seeing the hulking, shadowed forms of two wolves stationed directly outside Waldemar's chambers. Guards. Ever present. Her gaze swept the grounds, searching for any vulnerability, any crack in their defenses. There was none she could see. The estate was a fortress.

A knock on the door made her jump. Before she could answer, it opened, and a young woman, perhaps a few years older than Selene, entered. She was tall, with strong features and dark, intelligent eyes that were a deep, almost black, amber. She carried a tray laden with food: steaming bread, fresh fruit, and a goblet of what looked like dark juice.

"Good morning, Selene," the woman said, her voice surprisingly calm, though her eyes held a wary intelligence. "I am Lyra. I'm Waldemar's personal healer, and… your attendant, for now."

Selene narrowed her eyes. “Attendant? So I’m a prisoner and a pet now?”

Lyra didn’t flinch. “Not a pet. A bonded mate.”

“Don’t,” Selene snapped, a sharp edge to her voice, “call me that.”

Lyra set the tray down on a nearby table. “As you wish. But it doesn’t change what’s already begun.”

Selene eyed the food suspiciously. "Is it poisoned?"

Lyra gave a tired smile, devoid of humor. “If Waldemar wanted you dead, Selene, you'd be dead. The Alpha wants you strong. That’s the only reason I’m here.”

Selene hesitated, then scoffed. “So I can better serve his twisted desires?”

Lyra peeled a piece of fruit with slow precision, her movements calm and deliberate. “So you can survive what’s coming.”

Selene stared. “You sound like you pity me.”

“I do,” Lyra murmured, her voice barely a whisper. “A little. The Moonbind is... relentless.”

“And you're fine with that? This sick bond?” Selene demanded, her voice rising. “Don’t you see how wrong it is?”

Lyra sighed. "The Alpha is… direct. He doesn't sugarcoat reality. Especially not the reality of the Moonbind." She offered Selene a peeled orange segment. "This is our way, Selene. Our world operates on different rules than yours."

Selene hesitated, then took the orange. Its sweet, tangy juice had a burst of flavor on her parched tongue. She hadn't realized how hungry she truly was. "And you just… accept it? This 'Moonbind'? Being forced into a bond?"

"It is rare," Lyra admitted, her voice low. "But when it happens, it is absolute. Our legends speak of it. It’s not just a physical tie; it connects the very souls of the Alpha and his chosen. It’s considered sacred. A blessing." Her amber eyes met Selene’s, a hint of ancient belief in their depths. "We believe it happens for a reason. To bring balance. To strengthen the pack."

"Balance?" Selene nearly choked. "I was running for my life because my magic is considered a curse. I don't belong here. And I certainly don't belong with him."

"Perhaps not yet," Lyra said softly, her gaze surprisingly compassionate. "But the Moonbind is a powerful magic, Selene. More powerful than you know. It will change you. Change him too."

Selene shook her head, a cold knot forming in her stomach. "I won't let it. I won't be broken."

Lyra merely offered a sympathetic smile, a silent acknowledgment of Selene's defiance. "We shall see. For now, eat. And if you wish to freshen up, there are baths prepared." She gestured to a door Selene hadn't noticed, likely leading to an adjoining washroom. "Your clothes are torn. I've laid out some fresh garments for you."

Reluctantly, Selene ate. The steaming bread, the sweet fruit, the rich juice—it was all delicious.

Damn him, she thought, hating that he could even provide comfort in her captivity.

"And this… lesson he mentioned?" she asked, stopping Lyra as she turned to leave. "What does that mean?"

Lyra paused at the doorway, her shoulders stiffening imperceptibly. Her voice dropped. “He’ll show you how deep the bond goes.”

Selene’s eyes burned. “I won’t let him touch me again.”

Lyra gave her a long, appraising look. “Then brace yourself. Because the Moonbind will make you want him.” She was gone before Selene could ask anything else, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the still-present ache of the Moonbind.

The bath was a welcome respite. Warm, scented water, soft sponges, and fragrant soaps felt like a forbidden luxury. She washed away the grime of her desperate flight, but she couldn't wash away the lingering sense of violation, or the persistent hum of the Moonbind. The fresh clothes Lyra had left were simple but soft – a tunic and leggings made of finely spun cotton, a surprising comfort after her rough traveling clothes.

But the comfort was fleeting. With every beat of her heart, the craving intensified. It was a phantom ache, a restless energy that made her skin feel too tight, her nerves too raw. Her magic, still stirring, seemed to echo the longing, vibrating with a desperate need to intertwine with Waldemar's. He wasn't even in the room, but his presence, the invisible threads of the Moonbind, were undeniable.

The afternoon arrived with a sense of ominous certainty. A knock on the door, firmer this time. Selene tensed, her heart hammering.

"Enter," she called, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands.

It was Waldemar. He stepped in, followed by Adler and two other burly wolves. His golden eyes swept over her, a flash of approval in their depths as he took in her clean appearance. He was still in his dark clothes, but his aura of power felt even more potent now, almost suffocating in the enclosed space.

"Ready for your lesson, witch?" Waldemar's voice was a low rumble, a predator's purr.

Selene glared, lifting her chin. "I’m ready to expose your lies."

Adler snorted. "Brave words, for a captured witch."

"Adler, out," Waldemar commanded, his voice sharp, brooking no argument. Adler hesitated for a moment, then, with a resentful glare at Selene, turned and exited, taking the other two guards with him. The door clicked shut again.

Waldemar advanced, slowly, like a predator circling its prey, his golden eyes never leaving hers. "No lies, Selene. Only the truth. The truth of what you now are. The truth of what we are." He stopped a few feet from her, his gaze burning into hers. "The Moonbind dictates attraction. It dictates desire. And it dictates… contact."

"I told you," Selene said, her voice shaking, "I won't submit."

"You don't have to submit, Selene," he contradicted, his gaze dropping to her trembling lips. 

"You just have to respond. As your body already does. As your magic already does."

He reached out, slowly, his large hand brushing her cheek, then cupping her jaw. Selene froze, every nerve electrified by his touch. The craving in her core flared, sharp and intense, demanding. Her magic surged, a frantic, desperate hum.

"Feel that?" he whispered, his thumb caressing her skin, sending shivers down her spine. "That's the Moonbind. Asking. Demanding." He leaned in, his scent overwhelming, intoxicating, filling her lungs. "Deny it, and the pain intensifies. Embrace it, and… you will find relief. And pleasure."

His gaze dropped to her mouth, dark and intense. Selene's breath hitched. She could taste him on her tongue, smell him on her skin, feel the intoxicating hum of his power resonating deep within her. It was agonizing, this struggle between her will and her body's primal scream for him.

"You will beg for this, Selene," Waldemar murmured, his lips hovering mere inches from hers. "You will ache for it. And I will give it to you. Every single time the Moonbind demands. Until your defiance breaks. Until you understand that there is no escape from what we are."

His hand tightened on her jaw, tilting her head back, and his lips claimed hers again; not a gentle kiss, but a ravaging, possessive declaration, forcing the aching need in her body to ignite into an unstoppable, all-consuming fire.

Selene’s vision swam, and her last coherent thought was a terrifying whisper;

No, not like this. Not willingly.