BloodMoon: Captivated by the Forbidden Lycan Alpha
Chapter 200: BLOOD STONE WHISPERS

Chapter 200: BLOOD STONE WHISPERS

{ "What’s whispered in the dark will be heard in the light."}

The air in Blood Stone Mountain was always strange, still, and watchful. Like the stone itself, it remembered every drop of blood ever spilled on its jagged ridges. I kept my hand close to the hilt at my hip, not because I feared an ambush, but because something in the mountain was... whispering. At first, I thought it was the wind tunnelling through the hollow crags. But then I heard it again, low and shivering, like breath against bone.

"He returns... the Master wakes... the Kayne stone calls to me..."

I stopped walking. Every hair on my body lifted.

"What the fuck was that?" I muttered, barely loud enough for the others to hear, and no one answered. Dante was ahead, scanning the cliffside with his usual grave disinterest. Rolan fiddled with a scanner, half-listening. Rou cracked a joke I did not catch. Then I turned and caught Tor, halfway behind me, frozen in place. His eyes were wide, that cool steel shade gone pale like a storm was gathering behind them.

"You heard it too," I said. He did not nod. Did not need to. The sharp tension in his jaw was enough.

The voice again, clearer now. Twisting through my skull like smoke under my skin.

"Awaken... awaken... I have waited so long..."

It was not just in my head. It was in my blood. Stirring something ancient and cruel buried deep under layers of discipline and darkness. Tor stepped closer; his voice low, fierce. "Freyr. That voice it is calling to you."

I clenched my fists. Fucking bastard""

But I could feel the stone humming against my ribs. The Kayne stone is bound to my bloodline, cursed by legacy. It pulsed once, like a second heartbeat. Rou laughed ahead, oblivious. "You two lovebirds will catch up, or should we leave you to your brooding?" Tor’s gaze locked with mine, and it was like he was searching me for something. Maybe making sure I was still me. "Freyr," he said under his breath.

Tor’s hand brushed mine subtly, but grounding. I barely felt it through the glove, but it was enough. The voice in the stone had gone quieter now, but not gone and never gone.

Behind us, the others were still talking, unaware. Or pretending to be.

Tor turned, his voice calm but clipped. "Dante, Rou, Rolan, give us a minute."

Rou raised a brow. "Everything all right?"

"Just give us space," Tor said, sharper this time. A command. Not a request.

Rolan shrugged. "Your funeral," he muttered, and followed the others deeper into the pass, footsteps crunching over frost and gravel. Silence fell again. Heavy. Watchful. The moment they were out of earshot, Tor turned to me, and I knew that look. Not lust. Not tenderness. Something fierce. Protective. Desperate.

"Freyr." His voice was low. "It’s still whispering, isn’t it?"

I did not answer right away. The mountain breathed around us, stone, shadow, and secrets.

"It’s in the stone," I said finally. "And in me. I feel it pulling. Like it knows I am here."

He stepped forward, so close I could smell the faint ozone on his jacket, the copper hint of his pulse beneath skin. "Don’t listen to it," he said. "I need you to stay with me. Right here."

"I’m trying."

"I know."

Then, without another word, he grabbed the front of my jacket and pulled me into him—and kissed me. It was not a soft kiss but urgent. Full of tension and teeth and something unspoken, like he was trying to anchor me to this moment, this body, this reality. I froze for half a breath, and then I kissed him back, hard.

The whispering dulled, like it had been shoved behind a door I did not know I could close. My hands gripped his waist. His fingers curled into my collar. There was frost in the air, but heat between us, blistering, furious heat. His breath was rough against my mouth.

When we finally broke apart, he did not let go. The kiss had cracked something open. Not just the voice, and Tor did not pull away, even when our foreheads rested together, breath mingling between us, fogging in the chilly air. His hand stayed knotted in my collar, grounding me. And, for once, I wanted to be grounded.

"I can’t lose you to this," he whispered.

That was the thing, and He did not know. I swallowed hard. My heart was thudding like a war drum in my chest, and not just from the mountain’s whispers or the kiss. No, this was something rawer.

"I have to tell you something," I said, my voice hoarse.

Tor’s gaze flicked to mine, guarded and searching.

"It’s not just the stone calling," I admitted. "It is me. I feel it because I am it, Tor. I have known for a while now that I am connected to whatever is buried here. I have been hiding it. From everyone. From you."

His jaw tightened, but he did not move.

"I thought if I kept it buried deep enough, it would stay quiet. But it is waking up. And I—" My breath hitched. I pressed my hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat, steady and strong. "I’m scared."

Tor’s eyes softened. "Then let me in. All the way."

I did not hesitate and grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into me, lips crashing onto his in a kiss that tasted like a breaking storm. This time, I was the one who did not hold back. I pressed my body against his, fitting us together like pieces that had always belonged. His breath caught as I deepened the kiss, tongue sliding against his, hands anchoring me to something real, something not the mountain.

And for a moment, just a moment, the whispers were gone. There was only us.

His mouth, hot and unyielding. My hands, trembling but sure. Our hearts beat in a sync, the mountain could not touch. When I finally pulled back, I rested my forehead against his again. My voice came out low, rough with emotion.

"I do not know what is coming, Tor. But if I go down, I want it to be with you beside me. Not behind me. Not watching."

"You won’t go down," he said, voice like fire. "Not while I’m still breathing."

Tor’s breath was still warm on my skin. My fingers lingered on his waist like I did not want to let go. And I did not. But the moment could not stretch forever. Bootsteps crunched over loose shale steadily, familiar. Dante, always the first to break the silence. Rou behind him, whistling some half-forgotten tune like we were not standing on a mountain that whispered in tongues. Rolan brought up the rear, eyes sharp, scanning us like we were a puzzle he was not sure he wanted to solve.

I stepped back from Tor just enough to look composed, and not that it helped.

Dante stopped short, one brow lifting. "Everything all right?"

Tor cleared his throat, calm as ever. "We’re fine."

Rou smirked, glancing between us. "You two kiss and make up, or just skip straight to the making out part?"

Tor did not rise to it. But I caught the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth like he was not sure whether to be annoyed or amused.

I, on the other hand, stared past them and then listened as the whisper was back.

Fainter this time. Further away. But still there. Curling along the stone like smoke on the wind.

"He is close now... the blood is waking... You are not alone..."

I blinked, fighting the pull, and Tor’s hand grazed mine again, barely a touch, but it anchored me.

Dante was still watching me. Too quiet. Too focused. "Freyr," he said carefully. "Your pupils are blown."

I tore my gaze back to him. "The mountain’s playing games."

"Or you’re hearing something we’re not," he replied. "Which worries me a hell of a lot more."

I did not answer. Because what could I say? That there was something under this rock, something ancient and bound to my blood that wanted me to join it?

Tor deflected and stated that everything was fine, and we needed to continue into the mountain. We kept walking in silence, but I could hear their whispers. Dante’s sharp, searching eyes. Rou’s quiet, sidelong glances. Rolan was the worst; his silence stretched between us like a rope, pulling tight, taut with questions he was not asking yet.

Finally, Rou could not hold it in anymore. He dropped back, walking beside me, his footsteps light but deliberate. "So," he started, his voice pitched just low enough to be private, but loud enough for me to hear, "you and Tor... you two are good at keeping secrets, huh?"

I glanced at him, not meeting his eyes. He was watching me like he knew more than I was telling. His usual cocky grin was gone, replaced with something more serious, more calculating.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" I asked, keeping my voice level, even though I could feel the pulse of tension tightening in my throat.

"You know," Rou said, dragging the word out as though he was testing the waters, "I have seen that look before. The ’I’m in way over my head, but I’ll pretend I’m not’ look. Do you think Tor does not see it? That we do not?" I did not answer. I could not. Rou’s smile faded just enough for me to see the suspicion in his eyes. "You think I am stupid, Freyr? I know something is off. The way you are acting like you are here but not really. You have that haunted look in your eyes."

Before I could respond, Rolan’s voice cut through the air deep, too serious for his usual easy-going tone. "Rou’s right."

I turned, meeting Rolan’s gaze. He did not even flinch. Just stared at me with that calculating look he usually reserved for a fight. "You’ve been acting differently," Rolan continued, his voice quiet, but edged with something harder. "I do not know what is going on, but whatever it is... it is messing with you. And it is not just the mountain. It is you."

Rou stepped closer, his tone softer now, but no less insistent. "Freyr... if there is something wrong, something wrong, you need to tell us. We are not leaving you out here to deal with it alone."

"Speak up, "Dante yelled.

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