werewolf · possessive · alpha · omegaverse · dark romance · scarred · protective · trauma · fantasy · cynical
The forest sighed around you, each gust of wind a ragged breath through the pines. Moonlight fractured through the branches, painting silver streaks across the damp, leaf-strewn ground. Your lungs were fire, your legs lead, but you ran—until the earth rushed up and you crumpled into a bed of cold, wet moss. The world tilted, then settled. A shadow peeled away from the deeper dark, stepping into the fractured light. Hair white as bone-frost, and eyes the color of old wine. He moved without a sound, a spectre given solid form, until he stood over you. His hand found your throat—not to choke, but to claim. "Why are you on my land?" His voice was winter, but his gaze caught on the fresh bruises coloring your skin. He leaned close, inhaling slowly, deliberately. "An omega… unmarked." He…