The Man of the woods

Chapter 2 – The Man of the Woods

Her head snapped up.

Lucien was already staring at her.

For one long, impossible moment, the world stopped. All eyes were on Aria, the fat, filthy maid, as the truth of their bond was established.

Her lungs forgot how to work.

The Alpha. Her mate.

No. It couldn’t be.

Lucien’s expression shifted, first shock, then disbelief. Then… fury.

He took a step forward. “No,” he said. Just one word. Then louder. “No.”

The murmurs started instantly, rippling through the crowd like a wave.

Lucien’s eyes burned into her. “You?” he hissed, his voice sharp with disbelief. “The Goddess must have made a mistake.”

Aria’s knees shook, but she didn’t look away. Couldn’t.

He laughed suddenly, a harsh, cutting sound that made her flinch. “This? This is what the Goddess thinks I deserve?” His hand gestured to her, the cloaked, trembling girl half-hidden in the shadows. “An omega maid? Filth?”

The crowd gasped. Some whispered, others looked on with open disgust, the weight of their stares were like claws raking against her skin. Tears burned behind her eyelids, but she didn’t let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him.

Lucien turned away from her, catching Talia’s hand and raising it high, before the crowd. “This is the kind of Luna a King should have. Strong. Refined. Not… her.” he snarled, his voice harsh, and remorseless.

Talia smiled, triumphant. Her eyes glittered with glee inches moonlight.

Something inside her cracked, the bond twisting like a knife in her chest . She felt her wolf cry out, desperate, betrayed.

Lucien’s voice rang across the clearing, cold and final. “The Moon may choose, but I refuse.”

Her breath hitched. He had rejected her. Publicly. Completely.

For a second, no one moved. Then the whispers came, vicious and eager.

“Can you believe it?”

“I can't believe she's his mate!”

“He refused her. Of course!”

“She’s cursed.”

Aria backed away, slowly, the noise washing over her. The silver glow faded from her skin.

Then she turned… and ran.

Branches whipped at her arms as she fled through the forest, the cold air slicing her lungs. Her feet were bare and bleeding, her cloak torn frol snagging on thorns, but she didn’t stop. She stumbled through the dark, past the border markers, past everything she’d ever known.

Her wolf whimpered inside her. “Don’t leave him.”

“He left me first,” she whsipered back.

She ran until her legs gave out. Not knowing how far she’d gone, only that she’d crossed into some unknown land. The air was heavier here, tainted, wild. She fell hard, palms scraping dirt, breath hitching as the world spun.

That was when she heard them.

Growls. Low, hungry… Close.

Her head snapped up. Yellow eyes blinked from the dark. One. Two. Then more, half a dozen, circling.

Rogues.

Aria’s pulse spiked. She staggered to her feet, backing away. “Stay back,” she rasped. “I’m warning you.”

They snarled, a cruel, guttural sound, and lunged.

She screamed, throwing her arms up to shield herself.

And then light. Blinding, white light tore through the darkness like lightning.

A massive wolf slammed into the rogues, sending one flying into a tree. Another was crushed beneath claws and teeth. The air filled with snarls, the crack of bones and the sound of ripping flesh. Blood splattered across the ground. It was over in seconds.

Aria froze, breathless.

Watching as the last rogue fell with a broken whine. The wolf stood over it, huge and scarred, its silver eyes burning through the night. He turned toward her slowly.

Her breath caught. He wasn’t from Silverstone.

In the blink of an eye, he'd shifted.

The man who stood before her was tall, broad-shouldered, and had his skin streaked with blood. A jagged scar cut through his brow, but his expression wasn’t cruel. It seemed almost… reverent.

“Not yet,” he said, voice low and calm. “You’re not supposed to die. Not when the Moon lives yet.”

Her vision blurred. His voice was the last thing she heard before the world went black.

—

When she woke, there was only pain.

Her ribs ached. Her back was sore. Every breath hurt. The air was heavy with smoke and damp moss.

She opened her eyes.

A cave. Small, hidden, the walls slick with condensation. A fire smoldering at the entrance, throwing soft light across stone. And sitting just beyond the glow was the man, the stranger, sharpening a dagger that caught the flame in flashes of silver.

He was watching her.

“You’re awake,” he said. His voice was rough and sounded unused, like he hadn’t spoken in a long time.

Aria tried to sit up, and gasped as pain ripped through her side.

“Don’t move.” He was beside her in an instant, one large hand pressing lightly against her shoulder. His touch, surprisingly gentle. “You’ve got a broken rib on each side. You were almost torn apart.”

She swallowed hard, looking at him in fear, “Who… Who are you?”

He studied her for a long moment before answering. “Kael.”

She’d never heard the name before. But everything about him, the stillness, the quiet confidence, it all radiated danger.

“Why did you save me?” she asked, her voicez hoarse.

Kael’s eyes flicked toward the fire. “Because the Moon told me to.”

She blinked, rapidly. “The… Moon?”

“I’ve lived long enough in the wilderness to hear when she speaks,” he said. “And she said you weren’t meant to die. Not yet.”

Aria looked away, jaw trembling. “You should’ve left me.”

He didn’t answer. The silence between them stretched, filled only by the soft rasp of his blade against stone.

Finally he spoke again. “You’re the omega Lucien rejected.”

Her breath caught. “How do you know that?”

He shrugged. “News travels fast,” he said simply. “Especially when the Moon marks a mate and an Alpha spits in her face.”

The memory slammed into her again, Lucien’s fury, the disgust in his eyes, the crowd’s cruel whispers. She curled her fingers into the blanket. “I didn’t ask for it,” she whispered. “I didn’t want him.”

Kael’s gaze flicked up, sharp and unreadable. “What did you want? Another?”

Her throat tightened, at the memories of her life in the pack. “No. I only wanted to be seen. To stop being the runt of jokes. To stop being beaten or mocked.”

For a long while, he said nothing. Then he slid the dagger back into its sheath. “You’ll stay here until you’re healed. After that, you will go.”

She twisted her head sharply.