Page 27 of Fated to the Lone Shifter (Curse of the Lunaris Alpha #1)

Chapter twenty-five

Playing With Fire

SERA

T he chains fall with a dull clatter.

My wrists throb as the iron links hit the stone floor, red welts blooming where the silver burned into skin. But I don’t flinch. I don’t rub them. I lift my chin.

Because prey doesn’t lift its chin.

Only predators do.

Bode watches me like he’s deciphering a language he half-remembers—his dark eyes narrowed, mouth parted slightly, his breathing slower than before. Controlled. But barely. He doesn’t seem entirely sure why he is releasing me. I rub the crystal in my left hand again to seal the deal.

“You’ve stopped fighting,” he says.

I tilt my head. “Have I?”

He steps closer, boots echoing in the stone room like war drums. I resist the urge to step back. To shiver. To scream.

Instead, I let my breath hitch—subtle, but enough. Enough to feed the fire in his ego.

“You’re not stupid. You’re not like Noah’s mother,” he continues, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from my face. “You feel it, don’t you? The pull. The bond. You were never meant to run from me, Sera. You were meant to stand beside me.”

His fingers linger at my jaw, the touch oddly gentle for a man who had me shackled for hours. His magic pulses just beneath the surface, slick and seething like oil over flame.

I force myself to meet his gaze. I let my lips part, eyes soften. A breath away from a sigh. “Maybe I just needed to see who you really are.”

His expression twitches—uncertainty, quickly swallowed by pride. “And what do you see now?”

I take a calculated pause. Let it stretch between us, thick with implication.

“A leader,” I whisper. “An alpha who doesn’t take orders. One who shapes fate.”

He exhales slowly, like that admission feeds him. Like I’ve just scratched an itch buried under years of rejection and rebellion.

He believes me.

That’s the dangerous part.

He believes me.

His hand drops, but not far. His thumb brushes my hip, and I feel it then—his intention. His hunger.

“It could be easy, you know,” he murmurs. “You and me. No more hiding. No more pretending to be something you’re not. Fire like yours shouldn’t be leashed. It should burn.”

“And you think you can handle it?” I ask, letting my voice drop—husky, teasing, baited.

His grin is slow and wicked. “I want to handle it.”

His mouth grazes my ear. “I want to feel what that fire tastes like when you let it go.”

He moves behind me, his breath on my neck. Every instinct I have screams to ignite—burn the bastard down where he stands. But not yet. Not here. First, I need the evidence to prove he’s behind the fires.

He thinks he knows who I am. He doesn’t.

I just have to keep him distracted a little longer.

His hands skim my shoulders. “Come to bed with me.”

I don’t answer right away. I can’t afford to look eager. Can’t afford to look scared either.

“May I have a drink first? I’m a little parched, I stall.

He opens his palm, acknowledging consent.

I grab a chilled Dark Horse for myself and another for him.

I place his on the table, letting my fingers linger just a second longer than necessary. My enchantment spell—subtle, clever, precise—activates the moment I make contact. A shimmer pulses inside the amber liquid. He doesn’t notice. He just grabs the bottle and downs it in one long, primal gulp.

Good. It’s working. I can feel the magic settle in his bloodstream.

Bode tugs me toward him. I let him, just enough to keep him content. His pupils dilate. His stance stiffens. The aggression coils beneath his skin like a ready spring. I back away, inch by inch.

“As much as I’d love to stay, I’ve got to get back to the firehouse,” I say with a playful lilt. “I have an early morning, and it’s already past midnight.”

He narrows his eyes. “I’ll take you back early.”

“I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl,” I tease. “I’ll be back. Just not tonight.”

His grin darkens. “I don’t think you understand the nature of our relationship.”

Wrong move.

I snap my fingers in front of his face.

His knees give out.

He folds onto the bed like a man surrendering to a dream, unaware he's sinking into a fantasy spun from my lies and desperation. I stroke his hair once—just a whisper of affection. Let the enchantment do its work. Let him believe this illusion: passion, connection, bonding.

None of it is real.

Now it’s time to get to work.

I snap photos of the corkboard, the burnt fire binder and the box that smells like smoke, which I can’t open. Damaging, yes. But nothing that connects Bode directly to the crimes…yet. However, there might be enough here to get a warrant.

I scan the room for anything the FBI can sink its teeth into. Weapons? None—the wolves are the weapons. Blood-stained clothes? Fur is all they wear when they kill, and I’m not opening that den of snakes to bite any of us supernaturals!

I spot the crew’s production schedule pinned to the wall. I snap a picture. “FM” appears in the notes multiple times. Curious.

I grab his phone. Swipe through texts. Calls. Too clean. Too curated. Just casting schedules and costume notes. No slip-ups there.

Then I see it through the window—flashing red and blue lights bleeding through the trees, cold and accusatory.

My stomach knots. A heartbeat skips. They’re coming—too soon, too bold.

Panic flares in my chest.

“No, Noah,” I whisper. “What did you do?”

I need to intercept. Fast. It’s too dangerous for the police to stumble upon the crew tonight. Or any night.

I slip out the back, with a quick look behind me at Bode sound asleep on the bed.

Ducking behind a thick tree trunk, I watch the lights approaching.

Too few. Not enough. If they get any closer to Bode’s men, there will be blood.

Fire. Carnage. And the last thing I need is a moonlit massacre because someone came to play hero.

I take the long route out, skirting wide around the camp. Two guards lean against a tree near the back trail, half-alert, half-bored.

Perfect.

I sneak up behind them, silent as breath. A quick spell whispered into the air. One crumples from a stun charm; the other I take down with a solid jab to the temple. I grab the handgun off his belt before he hits the ground and throw it in the bushes to buy me time.

A few cabins ahead, I catch sight of more bodies—humans, likely asleep. They don’t stir. Good.

I run as fast as I can intent on getting to the squad cars before the scent enters the camp. With any luck, the highway is upwind.

The road is just ahead when my foot catches on something heavy. I trip on it. It looks like a rock—until I see it glisten.

A claw. A massive one. Dried blood crusts along the tip.

Adrenaline spikes through me. This…this could be the proof we need.

I yank off my jacket, then my shirt, wrapping the claw carefully in its plaid weave before rolling it in layers, putting my jacket back on and zipping it inside. No time to question why the gods saw fit to leave it in my path. I’ll take the win.

I hit the roadside just as headlights crest the hill. Sprinting toward the squad car, I wave my arms in wide, frantic arcs.

“Stop!” I cry. “Please—stop!”

The tires screech on pavement, and the car jerks to a halt. Two officers leap out, guns already raised, until they see me—bare-armed, wide-eyed, barefoot in the dirt.

“There was something in the woods,” I gasp, breath hitching like I’m barely holding it together. “A wolf or... I don’t know. I climbed a tree to get away. I just—I saw your lights and I ran.”

They exchange a look, the older one nodding with a slow sigh. “You’re not the first. Lots of sightings lately.”

I nod like I believe them. Like I’m just some girl caught in a spooky wildlife story.

I’m grateful for their easy buy-in. This is a story I can duplicate with the FBI.

One I can stick to when I hand over this evidence.

It’s simple, believable, and just murky enough to fly under supernatural suspicion.

They usher me into the backseat, and I finally let myself breathe. My hand still clutches the jacket wrapped around the claw. The evidence I needed.

Then I whisper into the darkness, Now let’s burn this whole thing down.

Later, back in my room, I finally breathe.

I text Tori: “Need your strongest salve. “Love bite.”

Then another, to Bode: “Thanks for a great night. Sorry. Had to run. Early shift. I’ll see you in a few days.”

I send a message to Ember to meet me tomorrow.

The only one I don’t text is Noah. I know I should. It’s cruel not to. But I need to keep my distance from him if I’m going to fool Bode.

I lock the door.

I slip my phone under my pillow and sit on the edge of the bed. The silence presses in around me.

My heart is still racing—part adrenaline, part magic wearing off. My mind won’t settle. Not with the claw in my closet. Not with the lies I just told the police.

And worst of all…the lies I will soon have to tell Noah.

I picture his face—the way he looked at me our night together, like I was something precious.

My fingers drift to the spot on my neck. The mark burns faintly beneath the skin. Not just from the bite—but from its symbolism.

He’ll feel it, too. Not the flesh, but the energy. The soul. A mark that shouldn’t exist. A violation I allowed, all for the greater good.

My stomach churns. Why did it have to be this way?

What would Noah say if he knew the truth—that I played Bode, seduced him, let him believe we were bonded?

Will he understand? Will he forgive me?

I don’t know.

All I know is this: the bite, the claw, the lies—they all lead to something bigger.

And I have no choice but to follow the trail.

Straight into the fire.