Page 39

Caelon

T he sun was low in the sky, casting a long, golden light across the field as we stepped into our valley.

Ours . The word humming through me, settling something deep down.

Selene moves in front of me, a woven blanket from one of our pack elders folded over her arm as her braid sways back and forth with each step.

The tall grass grazes against our legs as the wildflowers bend as if they are bowing to her. Not that she noticed, of course she didn’t, she never noticed the world softening around her. But I do.

I always did.

She drops the blanket down in her usual spot, right along the creek amongst the wildflowers and grass. With a few practiced flicks of her wrist, the blanket is smoothed out. Every movement with such practiced ease and comfort. As if she belongs here. Like she belongs with me.

I set down the basket I packed earlier. Lopsided sandwiches, fresh strawberries, and a lumpy lemon loaf I wasn’t proud of but had brought anyway. A very sad attempt at baking, but I know she will love the thought and time behind it, even if it tastes awful.

Kneeling on the blanket, she looks up at me.

She smiles, not the one she gives the world, the practiced, held in place one.

No, this is the one only for me. The one that lights up her face, crinkles the corners of her eyes, and brightens the world around us.

Like a beam of sunlight looking directly at me.

It hits me like it does every time: deep in my soul as if an arrow shot straight through me.

As if that smile seeks to find every dark place within me and bring it to the light.

Her smile makes me believe that she could do it.

She lets out a content sigh as the sunlight dances across her cheeks, the breeze blowing the strands of hair around the side of her face. “This is perfect,” she says as she closes her eyes and drops her head back.

Sitting down beside her, I move just close enough that our legs are touching. The grass and flowers are high enough that we are cocooned in our own little world. The breeze moving around us like a whisper, rustling the flowers like it carried secrets we haven’t spoken aloud yet.

The valley stretched all around us. Untouched by anyone else, alive, and utterly still.

But not empty.

Not anymore, at least.

She exhales, long and fulfilled, her eyes flitting open to the wide blue sky.

She watches the clouds drifting across the sky, I watch her.

The glow of the sun traces along the slope of her nose, caught in the fine hairs framing her face.

Her eyelashes dark around her eyes, casting shadows on her cheeks.

She sits perfectly still, and for a moment it's like she’s holding her breath, and so do I.

Because she's here and she's mine. I’m still processing that it’s real. The person I’ve been chasing my whole life is here with me, because of me. Not for some wolf she thinks is beautiful, but for me.

Peace.

Quiet.

Contentment.

Her .

Selene drops her head back down, pulling her feet underneath her as she reaches into her bag. Rummaging around for a moment, she pulls out her SLR film camera. She flicks the lens cap off with practiced ease. “Smile,” she says, lifting it toward me.

Rolling my eyes, I oblige. A small, lopsided grin that will surely make my dimple pop. The click of the shutter comes and a flash of her sparkling hazel eyes before she looks down at her camera. Silent as she contemplates something.

“You don’t have any family photos in your house.”

The words are quiet, soft, unassuming. A gentle observation from someone who cherishes photos. Almost as though she can’t imagine a world without them and why someone wouldn’t have them too.

I don’t answer right away. I’ve never talked to anyone about this. Breaking off a blade of grass, I fold it into perfect squares, watching as it bends to my will each time.

She doesn’t push me or attempt to fill the silence. Instead, she waits, letting the warm sun caress our skin and the breeze move between us. My tongue dances around my mouth as I consider how to shape the truth in a way that won’t ruin this perfect day.

“I…I didn’t want reminders,” I say finally, eyes looking out across the field. “Of what I didn’t have or I guess what I had and didn’t want, I should say.”

She doesn’t say anything, but even without looking, I can feel her entire attention on me. As if she is looking through her camera, twisting the lens to better focus the shot.

“My parents…” I swallow, trying to wet my mouth as I struggle with the words.

“They…tolerated me, I guess that’s how you could describe it.

They never knew what to do with me. I was always too much, too quiet, or too different, depending on the day of the week.

And my brother…” I huff out a bitter, resentful breath.

“He made sure that I always knew I was the weird wolf and that nobody would ever love me, not even my mate.”

I risk it and glance over at her. Her mouth is pinched. Not in sympathy, but in anger. She’s listening with her entire being, tucking every piece away for a later date.

“It’s easier now to not look back,” I admit. “So, I never put anything up to remind me of them or the times I was forced to bear their treatment instead of love. When you finally started taking photos, I knew what I truly wanted on my walls.”

Her hand reaches across, lacing her fingers with mine. It’s as if we’ve done this a thousand times already. She’s already learned to be a presence without overwhelming me.

“You have something to look forward to now,” she says with a voice steadier than mine. “You are creating a new story.”

I want to say thank you. I want to whisper all the words I’ve held inside. Instead, I lean over and press my lips to her knuckles.

The breeze picks up as if saying I hear you. I see you.

The silence stretches between us, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s full. Full of her warmth beside me, of the breeze moving through the grass, of all the unspoken things I’ve kept buried inside finding a way out.

I never thought anyone would ask, never thought they would notice.

Never thought I would crave someone seeing me.

But Selene has this way of seeing me. Not just the version I present, not the quiet, calculating one the pack respects, or the one who blends into the background with practiced ease. She sees the pain, the questions, the parts of me I buried deep.

And somehow, she doesn’t shy away.

A part of me wants to show it all to her, every broken piece, all the hollow smiles and hurtful words. But it doesn’t feel like it matters anymore. Not here. Not with her hand wrapped around mine, the scent of wildflowers around us, and the quiet of the valley as our companion.

Maybe I was never meant to belong to them.

Maybe I was meant to always belong to someone else.

To her.

She gently tugs her fingers from mine, reaching for her camera again. That playful glint in her eyes returning. “Okay,” she says with a soft grin. “Your turn.”

I raise a brow. “My turn?”

“Your turn to look at me like I’m the only thing that matters and try to not blink.” She grins. “I dare you.”

A genuine laugh escapes me as I lean back on one arm as I stare right at her, taking her in through the lens of her own joy. She snaps photos, the camera’s shutter rapidly clicking. I know I’ll never get this moment back, but for the first time in my life I’m glad I’ll have photos to look back on.

I know I’ll never forget this day and neither will she.

The sun begins to dip just low enough to cast the field in a honey glow, lighting the edges of her hair like fire. Slowly, she lowers the camera, her eyes losing that playful glint that they had only moments ago. They soften into something more curious, cautious, and worried.

Her gaze drifts down to where my shirt has lifted.

Just beneath my ribs, my jagged scar sits right above my right hip bone.

The salt that was poured into it prevented my wolf abilities from properly healing it.

The rough, uneven skin is a deeper shade of pink than the rest of my skin.

I watch as her expression shifts as she reaches out, her fingers gently brushing along the ridged, uneven skin.

“What happened?” she asks, her voice soft. “Here.”

I don’t flinch, not with her. Not when I know she cares.

“An old lesson,” I say softly. “One forever etched into my skin.”

“What do you mean?” Her breath hitches as it dawns on her the extent of the lesson that would have caused a scar.

“My brother,” I say as my hand cups hers again. “thought pain would make me a better wolf.”

Her hand flies up to her mouth as she gasps. Her eyes were already shining with tears.

“I’ve always been different, quieter, more in my head.

My father and brother would often point out how it made me weak and not fit to be a wolf.

They would pull me into the woods, far enough away that nobody else would see.

Both of them circling me, trying to provoke my wolf.

Dad would have Asher shift and lurch at me.

One night when Asher was furious that I still wouldn’t shift or protect myself, he swiped his paw at me catching my side before yanking it back.

I thought that would have been the moment Dad would have stopped all of it.

But, instead he let Asher pour salt into my wound. ”

Her eyes are red and swollen as the tears stream down her cheeks.

“He stood over me and told me that I would forever wear the reminder of the time I failed to protect myself and failed to be the wolf I should be.”

As Asher and my father walked out of those woods, my father’s last words were the worst. He told me that he hoped I never found my mate because I would never be enough for her or protect her like a mate should.

I don’t say this part to her. Not because I think she’ll look at me differently, but because I still feel as if he’s right.

Her hand trembles in mine as she quietly sobs behind her other one.