The Blood Moon.
No wonder the women had shifted. It was hard to stay human when the moon called to every drop of a shifter's blood.
At first, the night looked ordinary.
Then a shadow passed over the silver disc of the moon, and its color deepened.
What was pale white turned red, darkening with each breath. The light that followed was strange, neither bright nor dim, but heavy, as if the air itself had weight.
The forest fell still. Even the wind stopped moving through the trees.
"The Blood Moon doesn't appear often," Shannon said quietly beside Tristan. "It happens when the earth, the sun, and the moon line up. When that happens, our blood remembers what it once was."
Tristan's pulse was already racing. Warmth spread through his chest, and his hands shook. His breath came faster. It was not fear. It was something older—something that pushed from inside, asking to be let out.
His eyes flickered faintly gold. "It's calling me," he said through his teeth.
