Bloodmoon Brides - The Prime Alpha's Halfling Mate

The Bond forged in Childhood

Unknown POV

Damien Steele was eleven years old when death came for him.

It did not come with teeth or claws, but as a slow, creeping rot beneath his skin—black veins like spider silk spreading from his chest, his breath shallow, his fever relentless.

He had been training with the rest of the young wolves when he suddenly collapsed.

The healers of the Appalachian packs had tried everything. Ancient tonics. Moon-blood infusions. Sacred chants whispered beneath red candles. Nothing worked.

His wolf—still dormant, still forming—was dying with him. 

By the end of a month of steady deterioration, even the elders stopped pretending to pray and hope. The pack doctors and healers knew he had a day or two left and with bowed heads shamefully asked the Alpha and Luna to prepare themselves.

His mother, Katerina Steele, sat beside his bed, dabbing at blood leaking from his nose and mouth, despair and fury in her eyes. She hadn’t slept or eaten properly since he got sick. Every moment her boy slipped further away, she felt the ghost of the other twin—the one who died in her womb when they poisoned her.

Her eyes leaked yet more tears. That child never had a chance. And now this one, her living boy, was being stolen too.

She herself came from a proud Alpha line in Russia, and then married the Alpha Prime of the Appelechia region. But for all their money and power, she could do nothing to save her only son.

“Fight my son.  You are purebred Alpha, you are meant to live and rule.” She implored the fevered boy on the bed.  She refused to let her son die quietly in this adopted land.

She had lost one child.  She refused to sit back and watch another die.

That night, tears streaming she made her decision. She called her husband to the bedside, the mighty Alpha Prime Erikk.  They would return to Russia, her cousin was the greatest healer/doctor.  She had to believe that Irina would be able to save her son.

The Steel jet was fueled and ready to go before the the first streaks of dawn painted the Tenessee sky.

The air in Russia smelled of pine and snow, a biting cold that seeps into your bones as the Steele family stepped off the private plane. Erikk carried Damien, wrapped in blankets, his small body limp and feverish.

A black SUV was waiting for them. The drive was long and silent. No music or chatter, just a mother fussing over her son aa his head lay in her lap.

They drove past the city limits until the traffic thinned out to single lanes. Then buildings became further apart as the drive led to winding forest roads that were no longer tarred.

The road ended but Katerina remembered the way. It was time to walk, vehicles were never meant for this untamed territory. Erikk carried Damien, while a dejected mother carried the weight of a broken heart and led the way.

The forest at the edge of the old world breathed differently. The air was heavier, threaded with magic that hummed beneath the soil and clung to the bark of ancient trees.

The cold was setting in. Snow dusted the ground, though spring had already claimed the lowlands. Damien drifted in and out of consciousness as they carried him into a hidden glade, his body burning, his lips cracked and blue.

The trail finally lead to a cabin tucked among ancient birches, smoke curling from its chimney. A woman stepped out before the tired family reached the porch. Irina.

Once, she had been the pride of her pack—the gifted healer daughter of a Prime Alpha, promised to a powerful heir. Instead, she had shattered tradition by choosing love. Worse, she had chosen a man who was not a wolf.

For that, she had been banished, hunted, left without a family or pack.

She was thinner than Katerina remembered, but no less beautiful and with the same eyes—warm brown, deep and knowing. She stopped at the sight of the family  eyes round with disbelief as she spotted her cousin For a long moment, they just stared.

Then she crossed the distance and pulled Katherina into her arms. They were both overcome with emotion, sobs tearing out, raw and ugly. “Katerina,” she whispered. She hugged her cousin tight.  Too many years had passed but not the bond of sisterhood forged as they grew up together. “

“I come in need cousin." Katherina whispered against her hair. "My son is dying, Irina. Please. I've lost one child already. I can't lose another.”

Irina pulled back, wiped the tears of Katherina's cheeks, her face set with purpose. “Well then let's not waste time out in the cold." She smiled and beckoned to Erikk. "Bring him inside.”

The cabin was warm, filled with the scent of herbs and woodsmoke. A tall man stood by the hearth—Barock, Irina's mate. He smiled in welcome, beautiful in the way of Fae with silver-gold hair and eyes that shift like moonlight.

He nodded at Erikk, face turning solemn when he saw the sick boy in his arms. Beside him, a little girl peeked from behind his leg, maybe four years old, with her father’s silver hair and striking amethyst eyes. Feya, is her name her mother tells us. 

The little girl is small, like a doll with those thickly lashed eyes. “She's been having troubling dreams,” Irina said quietly as Erikk placed Damien gently on the bed by the fire. “Crying about a wolf that keeps calling to her. I've been giving her calming tonics to let her sleep.”

“She sees things,” Barock adds, his voice deep and accented. “The Fae blood runs strong in her.” He lifted the sleepy girl kissing the top of her head. "I'll just go tuck her in."

Irina began her work—poultices, salves, chants in the old tongue. Barock joined her, his hands glowing faintly. Hours passed. The moon rose. Nothing changed. The black veins still pulsed under Damien's skin, and his breathing grew more labored.

Katerina sank to her knees beside him, clutching his small hand. “Please,” she begged, to no one in particular. “I cannot lose him. I just can’t..”

“This is not ordinary poison,” Irina said softly, sadness lacing her voice. “This was crafted to kill a bloodline.”

She worked on, drawing runes in ash and blood, pressing her palms to his burning skin. Still, Damien worsened, black veins spreading over more of his thin body, fever spiking.

Night fell. Candles burned low. The fever climbed higher. Death lingered in the air. The modest wood  cabin was quiet, only the sounds of Damien’s laboured breathing breaking the grieving silence.

Then another sound broke the silence. A child’s sob.

They turned as Feya stumbled into the room, her silver-white hair tangled, her cheeks wet with tears. Her unusual striking amethyst eyes—old beyond her years, too knowing—were wide with fear.

“Mama,” she cried in the lilting cadence of the Fae tongue. “The wolf is dying. They both are.”

Irina froze. “Feya, sweetheart, why are you up? Did you have another bad dream? Did that wake you?”

Feya shook her head violently, hair whipping over her face. “The black wolf mama He came to me in my dream again. He’s cold and lonely and hurting. He said I can help him.”

Irina and Barock exchange a look—fear, wonder, hope. Barock kneeled beside his daughter. “Are you sure, little one?”

She nodded, sniffling. “He said I will save his brother. They have been waiting for me.”

Katherina looks at Erikk. They were at their wits end. Fear, exhaustion, worry clear on their faces, not knowing what to believe. “Let her try.” Said Erikk holding Katerina close as she wept into his chest.

Before anyone could stop her, Feya’s little legs were flying across the floor and she climbed onto the bed.

She curled against Damien’s trembling fevered body as though she belonged there, tucking herself beneath his chin, her small hand pressed over his heart. Her eyes closed and her tears soaked into his shirt.

And then—Light.

Golden and warm, it poured from her skin, filling the room with a soft, blinding glow. Ancient magic stirred, older than wolves, older than packs. Feya began to chant, her voice clear and steady now, singing in a language that bent the air itself.

A song of bonds. Of souls. Of eternal love promised before time.

Then before the disbelieving eyes of the adults, the black veins recoiled as if burned. Damien gasped, his back arching as the poison retreated, dissolving beneath the light.

His fever broke in a rush of steam and sweat, his breathing deepening, steadying. Life surged back into him.

When the glow finally faded, Feya lay asleep against his chest, exhausted but peaceful, unhurt. The boy's arm came around her, protective, drawn.

Silence followed. Then Irina whispered, “Impossible…”

Barock did not answer. He stared at the sleeping children, at the faint silver mark glowing briefly over Damien’s heart before disappearing. “You must leave,” he said quietly, looking at Katrina and her Alpha husband Erikk. “Before the full moon.”

Irina turned to him sharply. “Why? It is night. The boy is still recovering. I have only just been re-united with my cousin for a short while.”

“Because something ancient has been set in motion,” Barock replied. “And the world will not like it. The boy will get his Wolf on the next full moon. He needs to be on home soil” he explainec.

What he didn’t say was that if the boy did get his wolf here, he would feel the bond with Feya and want to take her with him.

Alpha Erikk was astonished. Pure bred dominant Alpha’s got their wolves earlier than others. But never this young. But he nodded in agreement.

Tired but happy, the afults sat down to enjoy a simple meal. Conversation and laughter flowed while the two children slept, clasping each other, totally unaware.

When they could stall no more, Damien’s parents gathered themselves, gratitude poured from them like a vow. “Anything,” Katerina said hoarsely. “Any boon. Any sanctuary. If you ever need us—”

Irina smiled sadly. “I know it is not much.” She looked at Barock and the love shining in her eyes was clear. “But it is enough for us. I pray the time never comes when we have to ask.”

Outside, as they waved goodbye, the moon lit the path back to their vehicle, but this time, the Steel family left with lighter hearts. Their boy was going to be fine.

And far beneath the earth, old magic stirred—binding a Prime Alpha and a silver-souled child long before either could understand the cost.