The Wolf and the Moonlit Stranger

The moon was swollen and silver, spilling light across the broken cobblestones of the old quarter.

I leaned against the railing of a balcony, whiskey in hand, watching the shadows pool in the alleys.

I wasn’t waiting for anyone in particular.

But the night always brought someone.

The tavern below was no ordinary place. Its doors never opened in the same street twice. Tonight it perched between a burned-out bakery and an apothecary that sold powders no sane man would touch. Tomorrow, who knows? Maybe a mountain cliff, maybe the desert.

The crowd inside was loud—mercenaries, poets, gamblers, even things that had forgotten how to be human. The tavern smelled of iron, smoke, and longing.

I wasn’t here to drink.

I was here to hunt.

“Lucien,” the barkeep called up, her voice sharp as broken glass. “You plan to brood all night or actually buy something?”

She liked to remind me that I wasn’t above her rules. Fair enough. I tossed a coin her way, golden and warm from another century. She bit it before pocketing it.

That’s when the air changed.

A hush.

Like the tavern itself inhaled.

I turned, and saw her.

She stepped through the door with the kind of grace that made time hesitate. Tall, raven hair spilling over a jacket stitched with silver runes. Her boots clicked like a countdown.

The moment she crossed the threshold, every eye followed her, but her eyes found mine.

Hunter recognizes hunter.

She walked straight toward me, ignoring the offers, the stares, the whispers. When she reached the balcony, she didn’t ask permission. She leaned on the railing beside me, her shoulder brushing mine.

“You smell of storms,” she said softly. Her voice was smoke and velvet, curling into my bones.

“And you smell of moonlight on a grave,” I replied. My lips curved into a smile. “Beautiful, but dangerous.”

She smirked. “Lucien, isn’t it?”

The fact she knew my name made the whiskey burn hotter in my throat. “And you?”

“Elara.” She extended her hand. Pale, cold, delicate—but the strength coiled in her tendons told another story.

I didn’t take it. Not yet. “Elara. What brings you here?”

Her gaze slid over me, slow and deliberate. “Curiosity. I heard the wolf of the old quarter still roamed these streets.”

I laughed, low. “Careful. Wolves bite.”

“I don’t mind the teeth.” Her smile was sharp enough to cut.

The silence stretched, full of heat and challenge. The tavern below kept on with its drunken chaos, but up here, the world had narrowed to her pulse against her throat and the way it tempted me.

I reached for her hand then, and when our skin met, I felt it—fire under ice. She was no mere traveler. There was power coiled inside her, old and restless.

“You’re not here by accident,” I murmured.

“No,” she admitted. Her thumb brushed over my knuckles, slow, teasing. “I came to see if the wolf still remembers how to hunt… or if he’s grown tame.”

My chest tightened, and for the first time in years, I felt my own composure crack. She was turning the hunt against me.

I leaned closer, lips nearly brushing her ear. “Be careful what you wish for.”

Her breath tickled my cheek as she whispered back, “I never wish. I take.”

Gods, I wanted her.

The predator in me ached to taste, to claim, to conquer. But another part—the older, buried part—recognized something different. This wasn’t prey. This wasn’t conquest.

This was a mirror.

The moonlight caught on the silver runes of her jacket. They glowed faintly, pulsing like a heartbeat. She noticed my stare and tilted her head, letting the fabric fall open just enough to reveal a dagger at her hip, its hilt carved with a wolf’s head.

“Still think you’re the only hunter tonight?” she asked.

I grinned. “I was hoping not.”

We stood there, shoulder to shoulder, staring out at the city like two sovereigns surveying their domain. The night wrapped itself tighter around us, heavy with promise and danger.

Finally, she slid her arm through mine. “Walk me through the quarter?”

My pulse quickened. Not because I feared her, but because I didn’t.

“As you wish, moonlight.”

We descended the stairs together. The tavern went dead silent. Not a clink of glass, not a whisper. Even the walls seemed to lean in to listen.

When the door shut behind us, the city exhaled.

Her hand tightened around mine, and her smile flashed wicked and bright.

And I knew.

This was not a chance encounter. This was fate setting the stage for two predators who might devour each other—or rule together.

Either way, the hunt had begun.