WonNovels

Chapter 1: Embers in the Snow

Winter in the North always carried the scent of rust. It was the smell of snow, pine needles, and—if the wind was right—death.

Seraphina Valerius stood in snow up to her knees, her breath clouding into white mist before her. Her grey eyes, trained by her family to be as sharp as a hawk's, scanned the slaughterhouse scene before her with indifference.

Five werewolf corpses lay scattered on the snow, dyeing it red. It had been a perfect ambush; the Valerius hunters left no survivors. As the commander of this operation, the silver repeater crossbow in Seraphina's hand still radiated residual heat, and the air was thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and Vervain—the bane of werewolves.

"Milady, cleanup is complete. Confirmed no survivors," the adjutant approached and reported respectfully, his eyes holding a mix of awe and fear for this young mistress.

Seraphina nodded, expressionless. "Skin them and send the pelts back to the castle. Father wants to see the trophies tonight."

Her voice was like a frozen lake—cold, hard, and smooth. This was her, the eldest daughter of the Valerius family, the future heir, forged into a perfect weapon for hunting wolves.

After the hunting party left, she lingered alone for a while longer. She hated the silence after such a slaughter; it always reminded her of the blood on her hands that could never be washed clean. She almost envied those dead beasts; at least they fought for survival, while she fought for the glory of a cold-blooded family.

Just as she turned to leave, an unusual color caught her eye.

In a world woven of stark white and crimson, there was a mass of pure black, like charred embers, curled up at the base of a giant fir tree.

Seraphina gripped the silver dagger at her waist and approached cautiously. A hunter's instinct told her anything related to wolves meant danger.

But as she got closer, her tense muscles relaxed.

It wasn't a threat.

It was just... a pup.

It was too small, looking like it hadn't even been weaned yet. Covered in coal-black fluff, it was currently frozen stiff, a thin layer of frost coating its body. Its hind leg was injured, a graze from a stray bullet; the blood was barely visible on the black fur but looked shocking against the snow.

It was dying, its breathing so weak it was almost inaudible.

The sound of Seraphina's boots crunching in the snow startled it. The little black thing shivered and struggled to lift its head.

In that moment, Seraphina froze.

Those weren't the cloudy eyes of a common beast. They were eyes of molten gold. Although currently dimmed by pain and cold, deep within those pupils there was no begging for pity, but rather a fierceness incongruous with its size, a struggle against death.

Like a spark about to go out, yet still wanting to burn everything down.

Reason told her this was the offspring of a werewolf, a root of trouble. According to the Iron Law Article 3: Regardless of age, eradicate root and branch. She should draw her dagger and give it a quick end, just as she had done countless times in the past twenty years.

Her hand did grip the hilt. The cold touch of silver sobered her.

However, those golden eyes stopped her movement. It looked too much... too much like the black hound she had secretly raised as a child. The only dog that had given her warmth, only to be dashed to death by her father right in front of her as a punishment.

A never-before-felt, rebellious impulse pulsed in her supposedly frozen heart.

"To hell with the Iron Law."

She cursed under her breath, the sound dissipating in the wind and snow.

Before realizing what she was doing, she had already squatted down. She unbuttoned her heavy wool coat emblazoned with the Valerius family crest (an eagle clutching a silver arrow) and wrapped the cold, stiff little thing into her warm embrace.

It shuddered violently in her arms, seeming to want to struggle, but was quickly overcome by warmth and weakness, passing out.

Seraphina could feel its heartbeat, faint as a silk thread. She stood up, tucked it away, and strode towards the awaiting snowcat.

She had brought back trouble. A giant, furry secret.

Kaelen thought he was dead for sure.

That damned witch. Her curse corroded his power like venom, turning the majestic Blood Moon Alpha into a pup waiting to be slaughtered. And at his weakest moment, the Valerius hounds caught the scent and arrived.

He bled out in the snow, waiting for death to descend.

Until those footsteps approached.

He smelled that scent—the unique, disgusting smell of that family: Cold silver, bitter vervain, and a chilly jasmine fragrance suppressed at the very bottom.

It was a Valerius.

He used his last bit of strength to open his eyes, wanting to memorize the face of the enemy who killed him.

A woman's face. Pale, coldly beautiful, grey eyes devoid of any warmth, just like the Reaper. She wore a coat with that damned eagle crest.

Kill me, hunter. He roared internally. If I had the strength, I'd rip out your throat.

He waited for the searing pain of the silver dagger piercing his heart.

But the expected pain didn't come. Instead, a pair of leather-gloved hands lifted him from the snow.

Immediately after, he was stuffed into an incredibly warm embrace. The loathsome smell of vervain was stronger, choking him and making him want to vomit, but that body temperature was his only lifeline now.

What was this stupid woman doing? Couldn't she recognize that this was the monster she had hunted her whole life?

Humiliation and the will to survive intertwined within him. As a Wolf King, being pitied like a pet by an enemy was worse than death.

But before completely falling into darkness, Kaelen made a decision.

Very well, woman. Since you brought me into the wolf's den, don't blame me for turning this place into hell in the future.

Chapter 2: The Hunter's Bedroom

Castle Valerius was a fortress forged of obsidian and steel, standing atop a cliff, overlooking the entire northern forest. For werewolves, this was the entrance to hell. The air was perpetually thick with high-concentration vervain spray, and every window was fitted with silver bars.

Like a thief, Seraphina avoided all guards and servants, bringing the little thing inside her coat back to her bedroom.

Her bedroom was located in the castle's west tower, her only private territory, and also a small armory.

The walls were covered with hunter medals she had earned since childhood, as well as silver firearms of various calibers. In the corner stood the taxidermied specimen of the first brown bear she had personally hunted. Every inch of air here was filled with a chilling aura.

"I really don't know why I went crazy and brought you back."

Seraphina locked the heavy oak door and placed the little thing in her arms on the thick rug in front of the fireplace.

The fire in the fireplace was burning brightly, dispelling the cold outside. This "little dog" seemed to regain a bit of life in the warmth. Its eyes were still closed, but its breathing was slightly steadier.

By the firelight, Seraphina finally saw it clearly.

It was really small, curled up only the size of her two palms. Although that black fur was soiled with blood and mud, the underlying smoothness and luster could still be seen.

There was a two-inch-long wound on its hind leg, flesh rolled out, looking painful.

Seraphina sighed, took off her blood-stained coat, revealing the tight tactical suit underneath. She turned and went to the bathroom, bringing back a first-aid kit and a basin of warm water.

She knelt on the rug and gently wiped the stains off its body with a warm towel.

When the towel touched the wound, the little thing jerked violently, a low, threatening whimper coming from its throat.

"Shh, don't move, little guy." Seraphina's voice involuntarily softened; this was a side she had never shown to anyone, "I'm helping you."

She took out a bottle of disinfectant mixed with high-purity medical alcohol and silver powder—this was specifically used to treat wounds scratched by werewolves, but it also applied to "ordinary animals."

When the liquid mixed with silver powder was poured onto the wound, the creature on the floor let out a sharp scream.

It snapped its eyes open, those golden eyes filled with wild rage. It opened its mouth, revealing small milk teeth that hadn't fully grown yet, and bit savagely at Seraphina's wrist.

Seraphina quickly dodged, but the back of her hand was still scratched, leaving a white mark.

"Quite a temper." She frowned, not angry, but finding it interesting. This wildness confirmed to her that this was by no means a domestic pet dog, perhaps a cub of some wild wolf.

She forcibly held down its struggling body, ignoring its resistance, and completed the bandaging.

"Listen, you are my prisoner now." She tapped its wet nose tip with her finger, her tone domineering, "If you want to live, you have to listen to me."

After treating the wound, she realized this little thing might be starving.

She went to the kitchenette to warm a bowl of milk, thought for a moment, and added a few drops of the expensive nutrient solution she usually drank herself.

She placed the bowl on the rug in front of it.

"Drink up, Nox." Looking at its pitch-black fur, she casually gave it a name meaning night, "This is your dinner as a pet."

Kaelen felt like he was going to explode with rage.

This damn woman actually used silver powder to disinfect him! That searing soul pain almost made him shift on the spot. Fortunately, the curse suppressed his power.

And now, she actually placed a bowl of... milk in front of him like feeding a dog?

He was the bloodthirsty Wolf King! He ate the freshest deer hearts and drank the blood of his enemies!

He glared angrily at the white liquid, then looked up and stared dead at the woman looking down at him. Those grey eyes held a kind of charity and pity that drove him crazy.

Just you wait. When I regain my power, the first thing I'll do is bite off this hand that served the bowl.

However, his stomach traitorously let out a huge growl. He hadn't eaten for three days; severe injuries and cold had exhausted his energy. If he didn't eat, he really would die on this enemy's rug.

The instinct to survive ultimately triumphed over kingly dignity.

Kaelen lowered his head in humiliation and buried his face in the ceramic bowl with stupid patterns.

The milk was warm and sweet, and those few drops of nutrient solution were surprisingly effective; a warm current quickly slid into his stomach, alleviating that clawing hunger.

He gulped it down greedily, swallowing all the humiliation along with the milk.

Seraphina sat in the armchair next to him, watching this little beast狼吞虎咽 (wolfing down food), the corner of her mouth unwittingly curving up into an extremely tiny arc.

This was an expression her cold father would never allow to exist.

"Drink slowly, no one is fighting you for it."

She reached out, wanting to stroke its back to smooth its fur.

Kaelen went rigid the instant she touched him. Her fingers were cold, the pads calloused from long-term gun use.

He should dodge, or bite her again. But the satiety from the milk and the warmth of the fireplace created a shameful drowsiness.

More importantly, the moment she touched him, he felt the burning stinging sensation in the wound on his hind leg actually lessen.

This was impossible.

Werewolves' self-healing abilities only get a boost when close to their Fated Mate.

How could this female hunter, whose hands were stained with the blood of his kin, be his Mate?

It must be an illusion. It must be a side effect brought on by that damned witch's curse.

Kaelen denied it in his heart, but his body honestly didn't dodge her touch. He slowly relaxed under her palm, eyelids getting heavier and heavier, eventually falling into a deep sleep in front of the enemy's fireplace.

Chapter 3: Midnight Restlessness

The midnight bell echoed through the castle.

Seraphina had gone to bed. She was a light sleeper; years of life as a hunter kept her alert even in sleep. A loaded silver bullet pistol was always tucked under her pillow.

But tonight, she slept exceptionally deeply. Perhaps because the little life curled up on the rug beside her bed brought a strange sense of security.

Moonlight spilled into the room through the reinforced windows, casting patches of pale light on the floor.

As the moon rose to the middle of the sky, the power of the curse began to weaken.

The black little thing on the rug started to twist uneasily. A tearing pain came from deep within the bone marrow.

Kaelen groaned painfully in his sleep. His bones were stretching, muscles reorganizing. That growing pain was harder to endure than any torture.

Minutes later, it was no longer the palm-sized cub on the rug.

A black beast, close in size to an adult wolf but still appearing somewhat thin, stood there. His fur shone coldly in the moonlight, shoulder height already exceeding the edge of the bed.

The curse wasn't completely lifted; he couldn't turn into human form, nor could he recover his peak strength, but this body was still filled with lethal danger.

Kaelen shook his head, adjusting to the long-lost sense of power. His golden eyes flashed coldly in the dark, gaze landing on the bulging figure on the bed.

Seraphina lay on her side, breathing steadily. Her long golden hair, usually meticulously coiled up, was now scattered on the pillow, making her cold, severe face look much softer.

Kaelen silently jumped onto the bed. The mattress didn't even make a sound due to his weight; this was the instinct of a top predator.

He slowly, gracefully walked to her side, lowering his massive head.

Now, he only needed to open his mouth to easily snap her slender neck. Without silver armor, without weapons, she was vulnerably fragile.

This was the best time for revenge. Kill her, then kill his way out of this castle.

Kaelen opened his mouth; sharp fangs glinted coldly in the moonlight. He leaned close to her carotid artery, where the blood flowed most joyfully.

He smelled the scent of fresh blood beneath her skin. But at the same time, that faint jasmine fragrance also drilled into his nose.

This scent was very strange. It wasn't masked by the smell of vervain and silver; instead, it became clearer because of her body temperature. It shouldn't appear on a hunter. It was too soft, too clean, carrying a tempting power that made him want to get close.

Just as the tips of his teeth were about to touch her skin, Seraphina frowned in her sleep, seeming to sense something.

She unconsciously turned over, the arm originally outside the quilt lifted, and accurately wrapped around Kaelen's furry neck.

"...Nox, stop messing around..."

She mumbled indistinctly in her sleep, burying her face in the thick mane on the side of his neck, rubbing against it like hugging a giant stuffed toy.

Kaelen froze whole wolf.

Her warm breath sprayed on the most sensitive skin of his neck; the weight of her arm pressed on his artery. This was an extremely dangerous posture; if he wanted, he could instantly counter-kill.

But he didn't move.

That strange tingling sensation caused by her touch spread throughout his body again. The beast instinct clamoring for slaughter inside him was miraculously calmed down by this embrace.

This was too ridiculous.

He should feel angry, feel offended.

But he just stood there stiffly, letting this female hunter hug him. After a long time, he let out an extremely complex nasal sound, similar to a sigh.

He slowly retracted his fangs, carefully adjusted his posture, didn't break free from her embrace, but took the opportunity to lie down beside her.

Just one night. He said to himself in his heart.

Just for tonight, spare her life for now. After all, she was the first person who didn't add another cut when he was seriously injured, but instead gave him warmth.

The woman on the bed and the beast in her arms snuggled together in this hostile castle, sharing the same moonlight and the same secret.

Until the first rays of dawn broke the curse, beating him back into that weak body again.

Chapter 4: Dangerous Confessions

For the next few days, Seraphina's bedroom became an isolated island.

Outside the castle, the hunting operations continued. Her father grew increasingly irritable because the main force of the Blood Moon pack couldn't be found, while her brother Cassius sniffed around like a mad dog, trying to catch his sister out.

Inside the castle, Seraphina maintained the facade of the cold eldest daughter. Only by returning to this room hung with weapons and locking that heavy oak door could she briefly take off her mask.

And Nox—this black "little beast" she picked up, became her only audience.

"Don't move, it's knotted here."

Seraphina sat on the rug in front of the fireplace, holding a special steel comb in her hand, trying to comb the messy fur on the back of Nox's neck.

Kaelen lay on her lap, a low growl of impatience rolling in his throat. Is there something wrong with this woman? Who combs a wolf? And her movements were terribly clumsy, pulling his scalp painfully several times.

"Bear with it." Seraphina patted his head, not hard, more like an intimate punishment, "If I let you go out looking this dirty, Father will immediately throw you into the incinerator."

Mentioning her father, her movements paused, and a trace of imperceptible exhaustion appeared in her originally cold, hard voice.

"You know, Nox," she no longer looked at him, but stared at the dancing flames in the fireplace, eyes empty, "Sometimes I feel like I'm not hunting monsters, I am part of the monsters myself."

Kaelen's ears twitched. He lifted his eyelids; a trace of mockery flashed in his golden pupils. Oh? Miss Hunter finally found her conscience?

"When I was five, I held a gun for the first time." Seraphina continued speaking, as if talking to herself, and also as if pouring her heart out to this pet who "couldn't understand human speech", "Father made me shoot a she-wolf trapped in a bear trap. She was pregnant at the time, the look in her eyes when she looked at me..."

She paused, took a deep breath, seeming to suppress some emotion.

"Father said mercy is a hunter's poison. If I didn't shoot, he would lock me in the dungeon until I learned cruelty. I shot. From that moment on, I knew a part of my soul had died."

Her fingers unconsciously inserted into Nox's thick mane, slowly tightening, as if seeking some support.

"Cassius is becoming more and more like Father. He is bloodthirsty and takes pleasure in torturing prey. And I... I can only be colder and more perfect than them to survive in this family, to keep what Mother left behind."

Kaelen felt the trembling of her fingers. This female Asura who killed without blinking on the battlefield was fragile like a piece of ice about to shatter in front of him at this moment.

He should feel happy. This was the enemy's weakness, a weapon he could use.

But he found he couldn't get happy.

He remembered the body temperature when she held him in her arms on that snowy night. He remembered her focused look when carefully avoiding his wound to change his dressing these past few days. That faint jasmine scent on her body seemed to be disintegrating the defenses he built up little by little.

This is too dangerous.

Kaelen warned himself in his heart. She is a Valerius. She is your enemy. Don't be confused by her appearance.

He suddenly stood up from her lap, threw off her hand, walked to another corner of the room and lay down with his back to her, trying to use distance to draw a line.

Seraphina froze for a moment, looked at her empty palm, and gave a self-mocking bitter smile.

"Sorry for talking this nonsense to you. You're just a little dog, what can you understand?"

She stood up, resumed that icy appearance, walked to the desk and began to process family documents.

She didn't see that the black beast in the corner turned its head, those golden eyes watching her back complexly, burning with emotions even he couldn't understand.

Chapter 5: The Silver Collar

The speed of wound healing was much faster than expected. Kaelen discovered that as long as he stayed by Seraphina's side, the feeling of weakness caused by the curse would reduce a bit. This forced him to admit that terrible possibility—the Mate Bond was taking effect.

With the recovery of physical strength, his range of activity was no longer limited to the rug. He began pacing in the room, examining those prey specimens hanging on the wall. Every wolf skin exuded the resentment of his kind, stimulating his nerves.

Seraphina noticed his restlessness. She thought it was the call of the wild, the instinct wanting to escape.

"You can't go out, Nox."

One evening, when Kaelen tried to fiddle with the silver bars on the window with his claws, Seraphina walked over and carried him away from the windowsill.

"Outside is full of people who want to kill you. If you run around, I can't protect you either."

There was an unquestionable desire for control in her tone. To prevent him from "getting lost," or being dealt with as an invading beast by other family members, she made a decision.

She took out an exquisite black velvet box from the drawer. After opening it, inside lay a well-crafted collar.

The main body of the collar was black leather, but on the inside and edge, rings of fine pure silver rivets were inlaid. Carved on the collar's nameplate was the Valerius family eagle crest and the name "NOX".

Kaelen's fur stood on end the moment he saw that thing.

Silverware. That is the bane of werewolves. Although not as fatal as direct contact with wounds, wearing it close to the skin for a long time would bring a constant burning and stinging sensation to his skin.

More importantly, this was a collar. It was a symbol of enslavement and domestication.

"This is for your own good." Seraphina approached with the collar, voice gentle but firm, "Wear this, and no one will dare to touch you. This means you are my property."

Your property? Dream on!

Kaelen let out a roar and suddenly retreated, knocking over a vase. He bared his fangs that hadn't fully grown yet, golden eyes filled with fury and resistance.

If she dared to put that damn thing around his neck, he swore he would bite off her hand even if it meant exposing his identity.

Seraphina frowned. She didn't expect this little thing to have such a big reaction.

"Nox, obey!" She brought out the majesty of a beast tamer, pressing step by step, "Don't force me to use force."

She backed him into a corner. Kaelen had no retreat; his pride didn't allow him to submit, but his current wolf pup body couldn't fight against a trained hunter at all.

Seraphina saw the timing, moved lightning fast, and grabbed the scruff of his neck. That is the weakness of canines; the moment it was grabbed, Kaelen's body instinctively stiffened.

Just this one moment was enough.

Click.

The sound of cold metal buckling rang in his ears.

The collar was around his neck.

The expected severe pain came immediately. The silver studs on the inside pressed tightly against the most sensitive skin of his neck, like a ring of red-hot wire. Kaelen shook his head painfully, trying to throw the thing off, throat emitting roars of anger and pain.

"Shh, shh, it will be a little uncomfortable at first." Seraphina thought he was just not used to wearing a collar and didn't realize the damage silver caused him. She hugged him into her arms, covering the collar with her palm, trying to soothe him.

"Just bear with it and it will be fine. You look really good wearing it, Nox."

She stroked the silver nameplate on the black leather, a gleam of satisfaction flashing in her eyes. The sense of achievement of bringing a wild creature under her control made her ignore the trembling of the creature in her arms.

Kaelen stopped struggling in her arms. Not because the soothing worked, but because humiliation and anger had reached the peak.

He raised his head, golden eyes staring fixedly at this self-righteous woman.

Remember this moment, Seraphina. He vowed in his heart. Every bit of pain you put on me, I will repay a hundredfold in the future.

Chapter 6: Trial at the Banquet

Three days after wearing the silver collar, a grand family banquet was held at Castle Valerius.

This was to celebrate a series of "victories" recently achieved by the Hunter's Guild, and also to display Valerius's prestige to other dependent small families.

As the eldest daughter, Seraphina had to attend in grand attire. She wore a dark green velvet long dress; the high collar covered most of the skin on her body, revealing only that coldly beautiful face and slender neck. Her hair was meticulously coiled up, fixed with several silver hairpins, the whole person looking like an inviolable ice sculpture.

And under her gorgeous skirt hem hid a secret.

She brought Nox into the banquet hall.

Although she knew it was risky, she was more worried about leaving the silver-collared, unstable Nox alone in the room. She tied the collar with a long black ribbon, the other end tied to her ankle, letting him hide under the long table covered with heavy tablecloths.

"Stay here and don't move, don't come out no matter what you hear." She warned in a low voice before taking her seat.

Kaelen lay on the cold marble floor, watching pairs of leather boots and high heels walking around through the gap in the tablecloth.

The banquet hall was filled with the aroma of roast meat, the mellowness of expensive red wine, and that bloody smell and arrogance peculiar to hunters that made him sick.

"To the great Valerius! To our cleansing of those filthy beasts!"

A fat branch family head raised his glass and shouted.

"Cheers!"

The sound of glasses clinking was extremely ear-piercing to Kaelen.

Seraphina's father, the current family head Victor Valerius, sat at the head seat. He was a tall, sinister-looking middle-aged man, whose eyes always revealed a coldness that scrutinized everything.

"Seraphina," Victor spoke suddenly, voice not loud, but silenced the whole audience, "I heard you did well leading the team on the North Slope this time, completely wiping out a werewolf scout squad."

"It's Father's good teaching." Seraphina answered lightly, voice without undulation.

"Hmph, good is good, pity you let that Wolf King escape." Cassius sat opposite Seraphina and interrupted sarcastically. He had blonde hair and grey eyes similar to his sister's, but his eyes were full of impetuous hostility and jealousy.

"It's said the Blood Moon Wolf King was cursed by a witch, must be hiding in some rat hole gasping for breath now." Cassius cut the bloody steak on his plate, knife and fork making harsh noises on the plate, "If Sister could catch him, that would be real skill."

Under the table, Kaelen heard these words, claws unconsciously digging into the cracks in the floor. If he were in full form right now, he would immediately flip this table and bite off the throat of this bastard who didn't know the height of heaven and the depth of earth.

Seraphina felt the pull of the ribbon on her ankle. She subtly tapped the lump under the table with her toe, signaling him to be quiet.

"Cassius, if you have that leisure time staring at me, why don't you spend more time improving your marksmanship." Seraphina retorted coldly, "Last operation, if I hadn't followed up with a shot, your leg would have almost been bitten off by a werewolf that just reached adulthood."

Cassius's face instantly turned liver-colored. "You—!"

"Enough." Victor interrupted the siblings' dispute, waving his hand impatiently, "Today is a celebration banquet, don't let me hear these useless quarrels."

He turned to Seraphina, gaze gaze torch-like: "But I heard, you raised a... pet in your room recently?"

The atmosphere in the banquet hall instantly solidified. In the Valerius family, keeping pets was considered a sign of weakness and was strictly prohibited.

Seraphina's fingers holding the wine glass tightened. She felt Nox trembling at her feet.

"Just a stray dog puppy picked up in the snow, Father." She tried to make her tone sound casual, "I thought it looked a bit like the hound I raised when I was little, so I kept it. When its wounds heal, I will send it to the hound training camp."

This was a perfect excuse. Training it into a hound fits the family's pragmatism.

Victor stared at her for a few seconds, seemingly assessing the truth of her words. Those few seconds felt as long as a century to Seraphina.

"Hound?" Cassius suddenly sneered, he bent down, actually wanting to lift the tablecloth, "Let me see what kind of dog is worth my noble sister taking care of personally."

"Cassius!" Seraphina shouted sternly, but it was too late.

A corner of the table