Page 9

The sun hangs low over my pack’s territory as I make my final patrol of the evening.

Tomorrow's lottery weighs heavy on my mind, along with the stack of reports about increased enemy pack activity that I should be reviewing.

Instead, my feet carry me toward Shadow Creek, drawn by an achingly familiar scent.

Lavender. Sage. Magic.

Luna stands at the water's edge, copper hair glowing in the sunset, a startlingly vibrant glow.

She's changed from earlier, wearing a simple green sundress that makes my wolf whine with recognition, layered with a soft white cardigan to keep out the chill.

How many evenings did we meet here in secret, planning futures that now seem impossible?

How many promises did I make and break on these banks?

She tenses as I approach, though she doesn't turn. "Isn't it beneath an Alpha's dignity to skulk around in the woods?"

"Probably." I stop a few feet away, close enough to catch the subtle changes in her scent—anxiety, anger, and underneath it all, a trace of arousal she can't quite hide. "But then, following protocol isn’t as much of a concern for me as it might be for my subordinates. I guess you know that."

"No?" Now she does turn, green eyes flashing. Against the cool, green light of the forest, the gentle glow of the setting sun through the cooling air, she’s a striking image.

"Could have fooled me. Your father was always so concerned with rules and tradition—you look like him these days, you know, you sound like him.

Tell me, Nic, does it bother you that the lottery might pair you with a hybrid?

Or have you convinced yourself it won't choose me? "

My wolf snarls at her tone, but she’s not wrong, I realize. For all that having her here has torn my world in two, it hadn’t once occurred to me that in any possible world, cruel or kind, she might be chosen.

The lottery chooses right, after all, every time—that’s what my grandmother has always said, what the history books always say.

And I may want her more badly than I’ve ever wanted anything, but it is undeniable that Luna and I aren’t right.

Not for her, not for me, not for the pack.

Not for my legacy. Not for her freedom. The two most important things to us, and our union would destroy both.

"Luna—"

"Don't." Luna holds up a hand. "I'm not interested in whatever justification you've crafted over the years. I'm only here because the pack laws require it. Once the lottery is done, I'm gone. You’ll never have to see me again.”

"Back to your herb shop?" I can't keep the edge from my voice. "Back to playing human?"

"Playing human?" She laughs, bitter and sharp. "As opposed to what? Playing at being pack? We both know how well that worked out last time. They dragged me here because they called me pack —I almost laughed in Dynastes’ face. As if anyone believes that.”

The memory of our last night together flashes between us—her tears, my cruel words, the way her magic had exploded outward when I rejected her, the image of her running into the darkness, running and running as if the devil himself was on her heels.

My wolf howls at the reminder of our biggest mistake.

"Things are different now," I say, taking a step closer. Her scent intensifies, making my head spin. "I'm different. I don’t want us to hate each other.”

We both see the small lie for what it is: what I’m too cowardly to say is, I don’t want you to hate me.

"Are you?” she demands. “Are you different?

Because from where I'm standing, you're still the same Dominic who chose pack politics, prestige, legacy, and status and approval, over—" She cuts herself off, turning back to the water, hands rising as if signaling surrender to some invading army, fingers twitchy. "It doesn't matter. I've moved on."

"Have you?" Another step. Close enough now to see how her pulse jumps in her throat. "Because your magic says otherwise."

As if responding to my words, power crackles around her—weaker than usual, but still achingly familiar. "My magic wants nothing to do with you."

"Doesn't it?" I reach for her before I can stop myself, fingers brushing her bare shoulder. Electricity shoots through the contact. "It always recognized me, Luna. Just like my wolf always recognized you."

She shivers but doesn't pull away. "Your wolf didn't do me much good five years ago. Your wolf let me journey alone into a world that almost broke me, Nic. You don’t get to invoke him to make up for your own actions."

"He never stopped seeing you as a mate." The admission costs me, but it's worth it to see the way her breath catches. "My wolf still thinks it’s you.” He might always think it.

"Don't." Her voice wavers. "You can't say things like that. Not now. Not when tomorrow—"

"I know." I let my hand slide down her arm, savoring the silken feel of her skin. "But it's still true."

She turns in my grip. Suddenly, her foot hooks on a root, and she stumbles—we're chest to chest. I fold one arm around her back, the contact burning, holding her up but also holding her close.

The move brings her face close enough that I can count the freckles across her nose, see the gold flecks in her eyes.

My wolf surges forward, desperate to claim what we lost.

"Luna," I breathe, and it sounds like a prayer.

For a moment, something softens in her expression. Her hand comes up to rest against my chest, right over my thundering heart. Over the pack tattoo that once fascinated her.

Then her fingers curl into a fist, pushing me back. She doesn’t have half my strength, but the shock of it makes me step back onto my heel, and she staggers away until she’s out of reach, near the water.

"No. I won't do this again. I won't let you make me believe in something you'll just destroy tomorrow."

"That's not—"

“Stop!” Magic sparks between us, weaker than it should be but still potent.

"You're about to be mated, Nic. To someone the lottery chooses. Someone proper and pure-blooded and everything I'm not.” She sniffs once, a half-haughty, half-emotional sound, and straightens to her full height, chin high. “It’s better that way. We can both move on—I can move on, at least. You already did. It’s better.”

“Luna,” I find my lips saying again, inane, helpless. I am never this out of control. Not ever.

She laughs bitterly. “Nic.”

We watch each other. It feels as if we’ve found ourselves on either side of a gaping chasm, a space so vast it cannot be surmounted. Miles and miles of no-man’s-land. We’re mere feet apart, but I can’t reach her somehow.

"I’m tired, Nic.” She steps back, creating distance that feels like miles. "I’m ready to go home. You’ll have the life you want.”

I find myself shaking my head. "It's not that simple. If we don’t make amends, you’ll end up packless. You’ll be a rogue.”

"I’m not a wolf." She wraps her arms around herself, suddenly looking very young and vulnerable. "I don’t need a pack—I don’t want one. God knows this one never wanted me. I've moved on. Found someone who isn't ashamed to be seen with me."

The lie is obvious in her scent, but it still makes my wolf crazy with jealousy. The thought of another man touching her, tasting her... "Luna—"

"Alpha?" A voice calls from the direction of the pack house. I see one of the security trainees peeking their head over the high wooden fence, twenty feet away, staring. "The Council needs you for final preparations. High Elder Victoria says it’s important.”

Luna uses the interruption to put more space between us. "You should go. Wouldn't want to keep tradition waiting. I’ve heard it waits for no one.” Even after all this time, she’s still so sharp, so funny.

I try to protest. "We're not finished here, Luna."

"Yes, we are." She meets my eyes, and the pain there makes my chest ache. "I won’t make the same mistakes I did. Go get mated, Nic, and love her.”

Luna turns to leave. I reach out as if to catch her arm, and she freezes, but my hand just lingers in the air, hovering over her wrist, so close I can almost feel the heat of her skin radiating into my palm.

For a heartbeat, her mask cracks. I see the longing, the need that mirrors my own. Then she moves onward, and the moment is over.

She walks away, head high. I can smell the sorrow rolling off her, the fear, the anxiety, the anger. My wolf whines, urging me to follow, to explain, to make her understand that shame was never the issue. That I've regretted that night every day for five years.

Instead, I watch her disappear into the gathering darkness.

"That was quite a display."

I turn to find Grandma Victoria emerging from the shadows nearby, her silver hair catching the last rays of sunlight. My grandmother has always had perfect timing when it comes to witnessing my weakest moments.

"How long have you been watching?"

"Long enough." She moves to stand beside me, studying the creek where Luna's scent still lingers.

"She's stronger than when she left. More sure of herself. I remember your father and you arguing about her. She’s grown more confident than she was when your father disapproved of your affection for her so. "

"I noticed." Pride and regret war in my chest. “She’s been through a lot.

"She’s not a shifter." Victoria's tone turns serious. "A hybrid?”

I nod. Luna's power has always been vibrant, almost wild in its intensity, but with no Shift, no one taught her how to use it. "Her mother was a witch. Her father—”

“I know,” interrupts my grandmother. “I knew them.”

I raise an eyebrow in interest. “You did?”

She pulls an ancient journal from her robes. "Fifteen years ago, Catherine and Michael Morgan died protecting our borders. I read their eulogies, Dominic.”

My blood runs cold. "Luna and James’ parents? I thought that was a random attack."

James never talks about them, though he’s surely old enough to remember them well.

Luna never told me much about them, either.

The Morgan siblings were raised by an uncle after their parents’ deaths until James came of age, and then took care of themselves.

It seemed lonely, I always thought, but neither volunteered information about their upbringing, and I didn’t push.

Victoria opens the journal, revealing pages of cramped writing.

She doesn’t offer it to me to read, seeming to skim idly, not looking for anything in particular, though her eyes are sharp.

"They worked for the pack’s security. A witch and a wolf.

Around the time they died, we were experiencing our first border conflict with the Cheslem pack. ”

My mouth goes dry. "Why hasn't anyone told me this before?"

"Because until recently, we thought they were gone—and little James and Luna were never told the details.

I suspect neither knows to this day. Nonetheless, we believed the Cheslem ferals and leadership to have been destroyed in the same battle that killed the Morgans.

" She sighs heavily. "We were wrong. They've been gathering strength, watching, waiting.

And now they're back, just as the lottery draws near. "

My head hurts. I rub at my temples with my fingers.

“I wish you had let me find a mate in my own time,” I mumble, feeling oddly childish. “I would have the space in my head to deal with the Cheslem threat if you had. We could have waited longer.”

"The old magic always knows what the pack needs." She touches my arm gently. "And we’re in need, Dominic. You know we are. It will deliver us what we need to survive. That’s why I suggested it. And I stand by my decision.”

The hollow reassurance does little to make me feel better. “I’m required at the pack building?”

“Yes.” Grandma Victoria pats my arm once, then moves away, seeming to understand my unspoken plea for space.

She leaves me with the journal and too many questions. She knows I won’t read it, knows my head is too full. Maybe it’s just a gesture of trust. Above me, as I linger at the creek, the moon rises over Silvercreek, nearly full. Tomorrow, the lottery will choose, and everything will change.

My wolf paces restlessly, still scenting Luna on the air.

He's never accepted losing her, never stopped seeing her as a mate. Maybe he knew something I was too blind to see. Maybe I haven’t been taming him as I should.

Self-control is the core of an Alpha. It makes a man what he needs to be for his pack.

I repeat that to myself even as the scent of Luna threatens to drive me mad.