The Red Moon’s Claim

The apothecary door slammed shut behind Morgana’s grip, sealing Zelda in a void where moonlight bled crimson and the air tasted of copper and crushed roses. The witch’s fingers were iron around her wrist, her bark-like skin rough against Zelda’s pulse, which thundered like war drums. Delilah’s blood—still warm in the vial tucked against Zelda’s thigh—pulsed in time with her heart, the Mate’s Undoing spell so close to completion she could feel its magic clawing at her soul.

Morgana’s eyes glowed like twin embers, her smile a crescent of jagged teeth. “You’ve been busy, little wolf,” she crooned, her voice a rustle of leaves and secrets....