BloodMoon: Captivated by the Forbidden Lycan Alpha
Chapter 196: RALPHS INSTINCTS

Chapter 196: RALPHS INSTINCTS

{ "Your inner voice, your instinct, knows everything."}

GENERAL TIGER’S POV

I stood on the ridge, the sea wind lashing through my mane, salt clinging to my tongue. Below me, the beach roared with the battle-born breath of the Rogourau. The frontline burned with shifting bodies and rising flame.

But all I could see was him, Ralph, my mate. He stood at the tide’s edge, his chest rising with the rhythm of the earth beneath him. The shift began slowly at first, then suddenly, like lightning catching dry leaves.

His bones cracked in glorious chorus, his back arched, and I watched with hunger only a mate could know as fur bloomed across his skin, silver, and ash. His jaw split wide into a snarling muzzle, eyes glowing gold like twin suns breaking through storm clouds. His roar tore through the battlefield, proud and unyielding.

"I can’t fucking believe that he is mine" I whispered to my self.

Ralph leapt forward, hitting the frontline with the power of a comet. The others, our kin, our pack, our fire-forged beasts, shifted beside him, their roars rising to meet him. And as one, they struck their claws into the earth and summoned it. The fire tide. A wall of living flame erupted from the sand, stretching across the beach like a divine barrier. Twelve feet high, fed by our rage, stoked by our love, it pulsed with fury and purpose. The vampires beyond shrieked, their pale faces lit by the glow, their advance halted by the wall we swore to hold.

By the wall he helped become, and I felt it in my chest, this heat, this pull. The mate bond thrummed like a second heart. Ralph’s spirit surged through mine, wild and fierce. I could almost taste the salt and flame on his breath.

The sun had started its slow descent, casting the waves in bruised gold. Smoke still curled off patches of blackened sand, and the scent of scorched seaweed and blood clung to everything. The vampires had finally retreated, their shrieks lost in the distance like a bad dream unravelling.

I stood beside General Mortas, arms crossed, my body still humming with leftover heat, while Enforcer Troy lingered a few paces back, quiet, watching, ever the shadow.

Beta Spark, Enforcer Wave, and Commander Bella had just departed for the holding cells, hauling the last of the captured leeches with them. Whatever they had found on the battlefield had their expressions stiff, unreadable. No celebration. Just tension.

And then Ralph came walking up from the shoreline, still steaming slightly from the residual fire tide magic. His fur fell away with every step, the beast from melting back into the man I knew the man I loved. By the time he reached us, he was fully shifted, barefoot and bare-chested, skin smeared in ash and ocean. But it was not his body I noticed first. It was his face. His eyes searched mine before they even flicked to the others. His brow furrowed, lips parted, jaw clenched just enough for me to see the worry he had not bothered to hide.

"Ralph?" I asked, stepping forward. "What is it?"

He did not answer right away. Just stood there, chest heaving, like he had run miles instead of walking. His hand flexed at his side. His voice, when it finally came, was hoarse. Quiet.

"There’s something wrong," he said. "I saw it when we were driving them back. One of the vamps did not fight like the rest. They... stayed behind. Watching."

Mortas’s eyes narrowed. "A scout?"

"No," Ralph said, shaking his head. "Not just a scout. A leader. She was not there to win. She was there to see something."

I stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. His skin was still warm from the fire. "You sure?"

Ralph looked at me, his voice low. "Yeah. And she saw too much."

The silence that followed was heavy. Mortas grunted, rubbing his temple. "Commander Bella’s already halfway to the cell block. If something slipped through—"

"Then we’re not done," I said flatly, squeezing Ralph’s shoulder. "Not yet."

Troy finally spoke from behind us, his tone clipped. "We will need to question the prisoners. Hard."

Ralph turned to face the ocean for a moment, the wind stirring his damp hair. "This wasn’t their main push," he said. "It was a test. A message. Or worse bait."

I looked at him and felt it again that low, instinctual dread twisting in my gut. Ralph’s instincts had never failed us. And if he was worried, then we all damn well should be.

The air was cooling fast, night creeping in like a quiet predator. We stood near the shattered dune wall, the ocean whispering its secrets beyond the burn-scarred sand. I could still hear the distant crackle of fire riding magic simmering beneath the ground, restless, like the pit in my gut.

We were just starting to regroup. Wounded being pulled from the edge. Scouts reporting in. Everyone is clinging to the thin veil of victory.

And then Ralph spoke, "We need to go back," he said, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.

I turned toward him slowly. "Back where?"

He jerked his chin toward the sea. "Into the water. Where was that vampire watching from? Where the tide did not burn."

"No," I said, sharp and flat. "No. We just pushed them out and there is no fucking way we are diving headfirst into their shadows."

Mortas scoffed beside me. "You want to swim into their den? We barely made it through this round, Ralph."

"Whatever they’re planning," Troy added, "it’s probably counting on us not being stupid enough to walk into it."

But Ralph did not flinch, and he stepped forward, shoulders squared, that same look in his eyes I had seen on the battlefield, fierce, stubborn, unshakable.

"You all saw it," he said. "That was not a full-scale assault. It was a distraction. Something is happening beneath the surface. And if we sit on our hands, waiting for them to crawl up out of the water again, we will be sitting ducks."

I opened my mouth, then closed it. Damn him. "Ralph..." I tried, my voice low, laced with warning.

"We won’t get time if they’re building something under our feet," he snapped, then glanced at me. Softer now. "I am not saying we send the whole pack. Just a few. I will go. Alone if I must."

That last part burned. "No," I growled. "You do not go alone. You never go alone."

His gaze locked with mine, firm. "Then come with me. You know well that my instincts are never wrong."

I hated how he said it, like it was already decided. Behind us, the waves kept rolling in, calm now, as if nothing had happened. But I could feel it. That same dread humming beneath the sand. Ralph was right, we had barely touched the surface.

I exhaled, long and slow, then looked at Mortas and Troy. "General Mortas, keep watch. Ralph and I will sneak in under the water and check what is going on."

Ralph gave me the smallest nod just enough to say thank you, even if he did not speak it aloud.

And as we turned toward the shore again, toward whatever waited in the depths, I whispered under my breath: "You better be wrong about this."

The east side of the beach was quieter now, abandoned, save for the ghosts of battle in the sand and the low hiss of the tide dragging itself back toward the deep.

Ralph moved ahead of me, all quiet muscle and focus, his footsteps barely crunching over the dune path. The fire of earlier days had faded from his skin, but not from his eyes. No, that burn was still their intent, sharp, unrelenting, and it worried the hell out of me.

"This is a damn stupid idea," I muttered, low enough that only he could hear it.

Ralph did not slow. "You agreed to it."

"Didn’t say I liked it," I grumbled. My claws flexed at my sides, itching to shift, to be ready. "We are walking into the same dark they crawled out of. You saw what they did in open daylight—what do you think’s waiting under their sky?"

He stopped at the edge of the rocks where land gave way to slick stone and seafoam. Turned just enough to glance at me over his shoulder. "Something they don’t want us to see," he said. "Which means we need to see it."

I stared at him. His jaw was set, but I could tell he was not fearless. He was afraid. He was just braver than his fear. I stepped closer, voice low. "If we go in, we go quiet. No fire tide. No flares. No howling. If something grabs you, shift fast, or scream faster."

His lips quirked. "Romantic."

I scowled. "Do not joke. I am not losing you to the deep."

He met my eyes, and for a breath, everything else, the tide, the mission, even the war, went still.

"You won’t," he said simply. Then he turned, crouched low, and slipped into the water like a shadow falling backward. I followed, hissing quietly as the cold surged up my legs and wrapped around my ribs like chains. We moved together, side by side, submerged up to the neck, letting the ocean swallow us whole.

Every instinct screamed against it. The tide felt wrong, heavy, thick, like something was watching from below. I kept close to Ralph, muscles tense, my inner beast pacing behind my skin. Ralph pushed his magic in between us, and then we could breathe and talk underwater. My eyes widened, but his face was all laced with "No time to explain this now; we shall discuss this later. "

"This is madness," I whispered through my teeth.

He just whispered back, "Then let’s meet it head-on." And we disappeared into the tide.