The Luna and The Beast

Darkness within

Gabriel POV

Six hours earlier

The din of battle echoed through the forest, a mixture of snarls, growls, and the sickening c***k of breaking bones. Gabriel raced through the trees, his massive black wolf, Draven, pushing harder—his paws thudding into the damp earth beneath him. The scent of blood grew thicker with each step.

He’d been away from the pack, training with Gabriella. She and Aurora had been guiding him—helping him control his magic, ever since it began manifesting when he was just fourteen—two years earlier than pure blood witches. But he hadn’t expected to return to this.

The moment he stepped through the portal, chaos greeted him. Warriors were running in all directions, trying to regroup. Nora, his mother, had shouted that his father was already at the southern border, fighting what she thought was a group of rogues.

But as Gabriel drew closer to the fight, his stomach twisted. This wasn’t just a few rogue wolves. It was a coordinated attack.

Draven snarled in his mind, Faster.

Gabriel pushed harder, his powerful muscles propelling him forward.

The forest opened up to the battlefield, and his breath caught. Dozens of rogue wolves swarmed the area, snarling and snapping at Blue Mountain warriors. Blood spattered the ground, staining the earth beneath them.

His father, Christian, stood in the middle of the chaos, his dark brown wolf surrounded by five rogues. Even as one sank its teeth into his flank, Christian didn’t falter, his powerful jaws snapping down on another rogue’s throat.

Gabriel shifted back to his human form mid-stride, his bare feet slamming into the blood-soaked ground. He planted them firmly, grounding himself in the forest’s energy. Closing his eyes, he reached deep inside, drawing on the powerful magic within him.

The familiar crackle of power surged through his veins, dark and wild. The earth responded, a hum beneath his feet as his connection deepened.

He opened his eyes, which now glowed with an unnatural light. Draven’s growl echoed in his head, urging him forward.

Gabriel raised his arms, spreading his fingers wide as if he could feel the invisible energy in the air. “Enough!” he roared, his voice resonating with an unearthly power that silenced the battlefield for a heartbeat.

Then it erupted.

A forcefield exploded outward, a shimmering wave of energy rippling across the battlefield. The air around him seemed to twist and bend as the field expanded rapidly.

Rogues were flung backward like ragdolls, their bodies slamming into trees with bone-crunching force. Some yelped in pain as their necks snapped upon impact, while others scrambled to their feet, their resolve wavering. He could see the fear in their eyes as they looked up at him and a dark satisfaction took hold of him, feeding the demon within him.

The forcefield didn’t stop until it reached the edge of their territory, a clear line marked by trees that shuddered and groaned under the magic’s pressure.

The surviving rogues turned and fled, their retreat a panicked scramble into the forest.

Gabriel’s knees buckled as the magic receded, leaving him drained but not empty. The darkness within him surged, unyielding and hungry. He needed to push it back, before others got hurt.

His breathing was ragged, his vision flickering between reality and the dark abyss of his power.

“Gabe,” His father’s voice cut through the haze, calm yet cautious. His father’s wolf had shifted back, his voice steady as he approached.

Gabriel didn’t respond. His body trembled with the effort to keep the magic contained.

Christian placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, but Gabriel’s head snapped up, his eyes pitch black, swirling with dark energy.

“Get back!” Gabriel growled, his voice distorted, barely human.

Christian froze, holding his hands up in surrender. “Alright, son. It’s okay. You’re in control. Breathe.”

Gabriel closed his eyes, his claws digging into the earth. He forced the darkness back, inch by agonizing inch, until the glow in his eyes faded and his breathing evened out.

When he finally stood, his body was tense, his jaw clenched. He didn’t meet his father’s gaze as he strode toward the packhouse, the remaining warriors falling in behind him like shadows.

As the packhouse came into view, the early morning sun shining on it like a beacon, warriors began to cheer. It took him a moment to realize they were cheering for him. His forcefield must have rippled through the entire pack, scaring off the rogues at the border.

“You see that, son? They’re cheering for you,” his father said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Gabriel glanced around, his piercing blue eyes scanning the crowd of relieved and grateful warriors. A small, hesitant smile tugged at his lips. Finally, they were warming up to him.

It hadn’t been easy. Hybrids between witches and wolves were rare, and most wolves still saw witches as enemies. Growing up had been a constant battle against prejudice.

He’d been called every name imaginable in school—freak, hybrid, monster—and his least favorite yet most defining title: the Beast of the Blue Mountain Pack.

The name had stuck. Fear was a natural response to the raw, untamed power he wielded.

“Gabriel!”

A familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts. Morgan darted out of the packhouse, her blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight as she ran toward him. She crashed into his arms, throwing them around his neck.

Gabriel froze, her embrace doing little to ease the tension that still coiled in his body.

“Are you okay? I was so worried,” she said, her voice trembling.

“I’m fine,” he said tersely.

Morgan pulled back, her face falling slightly at his clipped tone. “You don’t look fine,” she said, her hand brushing against his jaw.

Gabriel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s the magic. I need to... burn it off.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip, nodding. “Then let me help.”

The door of his bedroom clicked shut behind them, and Gabriel wasted no time. The storm inside him demanded release, and Morgan was the closest thing he had to solace.

His lips crashed against hers, desperate and consuming, as he backed her against the wall. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer as his body pressed into hers. Morgan let out a soft moan, her fingers tangling in his dark hair.

“Gabe,” she whispered, breathless as his lips moved to her neck, his stubble grazing her skin.

He lifted her effortlessly, pinning her against the wall, her legs wrapping around his waist as he claimed her mouth again. The tension in his body eased slightly, the dark magic within him finding an outlet through their connection.

Morgan clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as he carried her to the bed. He laid her down gently, but his movements remained urgent, almost frantic. His hands roamed over her body, and her breath hitched as he took her, their passion igniting like a wildfire.

Time blurred as they moved together, the intensity of his need driving him forward. Morgan responded eagerly, her soft cries encouraging him as he lost himself in the moment.

But as the minutes turned to hours, her responses began to wane. Her body trembled beneath him, her breathing shallow as she tried to keep up with his relentless pace.

“Gabe,” she whimpered, her voice breaking through the haze of his magic-fueled desire.

He stilled, his glowing eyes meeting hers as she cupped his face. “I can’t,” she said softly, tears glistening in her eyes. “I can’t... I can’t c*m anymore.”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. The guilt was immediate and sharp.

“s**t,” he muttered, rolling off her and sitting on the edge of the bed. He raked a hand through his hair, his chest heaving as he tried to calm the storm raging inside him.

Morgan shifted, pulling the blanket over herself as she sat up. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling. “I tried, but it’s just... it’s too much.”

“It’s not your fault,” Gabriel said, his voice rough. He refused to look at her, his jaw clenched as the weight of his magic settled heavily on his shoulders. “This is on me.”

She reached out, her hand brushing his arm. “Gabe, don’t do this to yourself. It’s just who you are.”

“Yeah,” he said bitterly. “That’s the problem.”

The room fell into an uneasy silence, the air between them charged with unspoken tension. Finally, Morgan sighed, her voice soft. “I’ll give you some space.”

Gabriel didn’t respond as she slipped out of bed, dressing quickly before leaving the room. The door clicked shut behind her, and he let out a shaky breath, his head falling into his hands.

The darkness within him still churned, unsatisfied and unrelenting.

With a heavy sigh, he stood, pulling on his clothes and steeling himself for the day ahead. Duty called, and the darkness within him would have to wait.