Moonbound Vows

Rain pounded the rusted metal roof of the abandoned meatpacking warehouse with relentless fury. The sound echoed like distant thunder through the cavernous space. Inside, the air was thick and nauseating, a heavy stench of decades-old blood, rotting meat, rusting machinery, and fresh gunpowder.

This was the kind of place where problems disappeared in Chicago’s South Side. No cameras. No witnesses. Just concrete floors stained dark with the ghosts of old violence.

Lorenzo “Enzo” Valenti stood like a statue over the traitor’s lifeless body. The man lay sprawled on his back, eyes wide in permanent surprise, a single clean bullet hole between them. He had sold out three major Valenti shipments to the Silverfang Pack for a fat payout. Greed had cost him his life.

Enzo slowly lowered his custom Beretta and wiped the silencer with a black silk handkerchief before holstering it. His tailored black coat was speckled with rain and a few drops of blood.

“Bag him. Put concrete shoes on him. Dump the body in the river before sunrise,” he ordered, his voice low, smooth, and utterly calm. The two soldiers standing behind him moved immediately, knowing better than to hesitate. No one questioned the underboss of the Valenti Crime Family. Not if they wanted to see another sunrise.

A muffled, feral growl cut through the steady drumming of the rain.

Enzo’s gun was back in his hand instantly, barrel aimed toward the shadows in the far corner. His sharp eyes narrowed.

Chained to a thick steel support beam like a captured beast was a woman.

She was dangerously beautiful. Long, dark hair with striking silver streaks was plastered to her face and shoulders from sweat and rain leaking through the roof. Her eyes glowed a faint, ethereal silver even in the poor lighting. She wore almost nothing: torn black leggings that clung to powerful thighs and a shredded tank top that barely covered full, heaving breasts. Fresh bruises and cuts decorated her pale skin, and blood steadily dripped from a deep gash on her forearm onto the dirty concrete.

She stared straight at him with raw, murderous hatred. The kind of look that promised a slow and painful death.

Enzo’s body reacted with shocking intensity. A wave of raw, primal lust slammed into him so hard his cock stiffened painfully against the front of his expensive pants. Heat flooded his veins. His breathing deepened. For a split second, all he could think about was throwing her down and claiming her right there on the blood-stained floor.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Kill her. She’s Silverfang.

He stepped closer, gun still raised. Cold rain dripped from his coat onto the floor. “Who the hell are you?”

The woman lunged violently against her heavy chains, snarling like a wild animal through the dirty rag stuffed in her mouth. The sudden movement tore her wound wider. A thick drop of her warm blood flew through the air and landed directly on the back of Enzo’s hand, where it gripped the chain.

The moment their blood made contact, everything changed.

White-hot fire erupted through Enzo’s entire body. His vision flashed pure silver. A deafening roar, half beast, half man, tore through his mind. A flood of vivid, overwhelming images and sensations crashed into him:

Running free beneath a massive blood-red full moon.

The taste of hot flesh and victory between his teeth.

A beautiful silver-eyed female wolf writhing beneath him in ecstasy as his knot swelled deep inside her, locking them together while he filled her with pulse after pulse of seed.

Mine. Claim her. Breed her. Own her forever.