The Wolf King Luna: Bully romance enemies to lovers fantasy

Prologue

Run.

That was the only word pounding through Aliyah McCormick’s head as the forest burned around her. Branches snapped overhead like breaking bones. Sparks rained from the canopy, turning the air into a storm of embers and smoke. Every step cut her bare feet, every breath scraped her throat raw.

Behind her, the howls came again—low, guttural, too human to be beasts and too wild to be men.

She didn’t look back.

The sky was split open by firelight and moonlight tangled together, casting the world in a ghostly silver glow. The scent of blood—her mother’s blood—hung thick in the air. It coated her tongue, metallic and sharp.

Aliyah! Her mother’s voice, hoarse but urgent, cut through the chaos.

Aliyah stumbled toward it, branches slashing her arms. The ground pitched beneath her as something massive crashed through the trees. She reached a clearing where her mother knelt, one hand pressed to her stomach, blood seeping through her fingers.

Mom! Aliyah dropped beside her, trembling. We have to go—

Her mother’s other hand clutched something: an amulet, strung on a frayed cord of blackened leather. The pendant was carved from bone and silver, etched with runes that shimmered faintly under the moon.

Take it. Her mother grabbed Aliyah’s wrist and shoved the amulet into her palm. Hide this. Don’t let the Wolf King find it.

Aliyah’s throat closed. Who—

A shadow swept across the clearing. The air shifted, colder, heavier.

From the smoke emerged a figure—towering, broad-shouldered, his silhouette fractured by flickers of firelight. His eyes glowed like molten silver. The Wolf King.

Aliyah’s breath hitched. Even through her terror, she could feel his presence roll over her, dark and magnetic. Power radiated from him like heat off coals.

Her mother tried to stand, body shaking. She’s not yours.

The Wolf King’s voice was low and steady. She carries the mark. You know the law.

No. Her mother’s tone hardened into defiance. You won’t take her.

Aliyah’s pulse thrashed. She took a step back, clutching the amulet.

The Wolf King lifted his hand, and the air crackled. The moon above flared white, its light intensifying until every shadow vanished. The pull of it pressed against Aliyah’s bones—an ancient command calling something inside her to answer.

Her mother staggered forward and whispered through clenched teeth, Close your eyes, baby. Don’t let the light in.

But Aliyah didn’t close them. She couldn’t. She saw everything—the silver glow building behind the Wolf King’s pupils, the faint snarl curling his mouth, the agony in her mother’s face.

Then her mother raised her bloodied hand and struck the earth with her palm. A ring of light burst outward.

The world exploded in silence.

When Aliyah opened her eyes again, the clearing was gone. So was her mother.

Only ash and wind remained.

The amulet in her hand pulsed once—warm, alive—and then cooled against her skin. The silver burned a small crescent mark into her palm. She didn’t scream. She just pressed her hand against her chest and ran until her legs gave out.

Years Later

Aliyah woke with a gasp, heart hammering. Her sheets were soaked with sweat. The room was dark except for a shaft of moonlight spilling across the floor of her small apartment.

She sat up, chest heaving, her fingers pressed to the faint scar on her palm—the same crescent burn that had never faded.

The same dream again. The same fire. The same voice that came just before waking:

You can’t outrun the crown written in your blood.

Aliyah rubbed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing. It was only a dream. Just a fragment of a nightmare that had haunted her since childhood.

But she could still smell the smoke. She could still feel the heat of the moonlight.

She rose from the bed, padding barefoot to the window. Outside, the city shimmered under a cold, perfect moon. Far beyond the skyline, she imagined the cliffs of Moonfall, the academy she would be arriving at in less than a week—a place built for people like her. Or at least, the version of her she pretended to be.

A normal transfer student. No history. No legacy. No curse.

The silver light caught the edge of the amulet resting on her dresser. It glowed faintly, as if responding to her stare.

Aliyah picked it up. The bone was cool, almost humming with energy, the runes shifting subtly like breathing skin. She traced the markings with her thumb, wondering for the thousandth time what they meant.

Every instinct told her to destroy it.

Every scar she carried said she couldn’t.

She let the pendant fall against her chest and whispered to the empty room, You’re not controlling me.

The air changed.

A cold gust swept through the window, scattering her papers. The amulet flared once, and a whisper—soft, male, and far too close—brushed against her mind:

We’ll see.

Aliyah spun around. The room was empty. Her heart slammed so hard she thought it might break her ribs. She backed toward the wall, fists clenched.

Nothing.

Just moonlight.

But when she looked back to the mirror, she froze.

Her reflection’s eyes were no longer hazel—they gleamed silver.

Aliyah didn’t sleep the rest of the night. By dawn, her decision was made.

If the Wolf King wanted her, he’d have to find her first.

She would go to Moonfall. She would learn control. And she would bury the truth of her blood so deep that no one—not even fate—could dig it out again.

Chapter 1 – Arrival at Moonfall

The train hissed to a stop like something alive and angry.

Steam rolled along the platform, wrapping around boots and luggage until the world became silver mist.

Aliyah McCormick stepped down, duffel slung over one shoulder, the weight of the amulet cool against her skin beneath her shirt.

The air at Moonfall Station was colder than she expected—sharp, almost metallic, laced with the faint scent of pine and rain-washed stone. Somewhere beyond the fog, the sea crashed against the cliffs.

A voice crackled through the station speakers: Welcome to Moonfall Academy, heirs of the supernatural realm.

She drew her hood tighter. Heirs. Not her. She wasn’t born into legacy or power; she was the mistake that had survived a massacre. If she played this right, she could fade into the background until graduation. No pack, no questions, no past.

The crowd around her shimmered with glamour: fae with mirror-bright eyes, witches wearing sigils on their throats, and werewolves with that impossible grace that came from bloodlines bred for dominance. They all smelled faintly of confidence—and danger.

Aliyah adjusted her gloves, hiding the faint crescent scar on her palm. She hadn’t seen it glow since that night, but still, she didn’t risk exposure.

The Gates

The academy gates loomed at the end of the cliff road, forged from black obsidian that caught every flicker of light. Two stone wolves flanked the archway, their eyes carved with such precision they seemed to watch the arrivals.

A guard with silver hair checked admission marks glowing on each student’s wrist. When her turn came, Aliyah extended her hand.

The scanner pulsed once, hesitated, then flared white.

The guard frowned. Transfer from … Greyford?

She nodded. Paperwork should be clean.

He hesitated again, as if hearing something she couldn’t. Then the gates opened with a low groan that sounded like the earth itself giving permission.

Aliyah stepped through.

Moonfall spread before her like a fortress carved from night. Spires of obsidian pierced clouds. Bridges laced between towers. Waterfalls glowed faintly blue where moonlight caught them. Every sound carried—laughter, footsteps, distant howls echoing from the mountains beyond.

Her heartbeat slowed. Just a school, she told herself. Keep your head down. Don’t stand out.

First Impressions

Orientation buzzed across the courtyard. Students gathered around banners representing their houses: Luna, Solaris, Umbra, Thorn. The Luna banner—a silver wolf surrounded by stars—snapped in the wind.

Aliyah stayed on the outer edge until a tall figure crossed her path, and the crowd parted as if pulled by gravity.

Douglas Pena.

Even before she heard his name, she knew he was dangerous. He carried power in the tilt of his head, in the steady cadence of his stride. Black hair brushed his collar; eyes the color of steel flicked across the courtyard, assessing everything. When his gaze landed on her, it lingered—curious, cold, certain.

He looked away first. The small, instinctive victory made her pulse quicken.

A student beside her whispered, That’s the Wolf King’s heir. Don’t stare too long—he bites.

Aliyah smirked. Good thing I don’t scare easy.

The whisperer gaped. You should. He’s alpha of the Luna line. No one crosses him.

Aliyah’s response was cut short by the headmistress’s voice echoing from the balcony: Welcome to Moonfall Academy—where bloodline is privilege, and power is duty.

Douglas stood near the base of the platform, arms folded, every inch of him radiating command. When the headmistress spoke his name, the crowd chanted it in reverence. Wolf King. Wolf King.

Aliyah hated the sound. It made her skin prickle.

The Challenge

After the ceremony, students dispersed for placement trials. Groups formed around instructors testing magical resonance. Aliyah watched others summon light or shift partially into wolf form with effortless grace. When her name was called, a hush swept the line.

McCormick? the instructor repeated, scanning his parchment. You’re a late transfer. Step forward.

Aliyah did, trying to keep her breathing steady. The instructor gestured to a circle of sigils etched into the stone. Place your hand here. Let the moon judge you.

Simple enough—until she felt Douglas’s gaze burning from across the courtyard. He leaned against a column, half-amused, half-predatory.

Aliyah pressed her palm to the sigil. It pulsed faintly blue, then white—then silver so bright it threw everyone back a step.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

The instructor’s mouth fell open. That can’t be … the Luna resonance?

Aliyah yanked her hand away, heart pounding. Must be a glitch.

A deep voice cut through the murmurs. "No glitch does that."

Douglas strode forward, eyes locked on hers. Up close, his presence was overwhelming—heat and command and something primal humming under his skin. Who are you?

Transfer, she said coolly.

He stepped closer, close enough that she caught his scent—cedar, smoke, and something feral. Try again.

She met his gaze without flinching. Maybe your precious circle’s broken.

The watching students gasped. No one ever talked to the Wolf King like that.

For a heartbeat, silence held. Then Douglas laughed—low, dangerous. You’ve got teeth. Shame you don’t know whose throat you’re showing them to.

I bite back.

The laugh vanished. His expression hardened. You don’t belong here.

Neither did your arrogance, she shot back.

Something shifted in his eyes—respect or warning, she couldn’t tell. Then he leaned in, voice soft but edged with threat. Careful, little wolf. There are rules here.

Aliyah smirked. Then you’d better keep up.

Sparks and Shadows

By dusk, word of their exchange had spread. Everywhere she went, whispers followed.

Did you hear? The new girl mouthed off to Douglas Pena.

She lit the trial circle like a blood moon.

She won’t last a week.