Page 16 of Fated to the Lone Shifter (Curse of the Lunaris Alpha #1)

Chapter fifteen

The Bond Awakens

SERA

I perch on the cot in the bunkhouse, arms around my knees, breath shallow, heart refusing to settle. There’s four of us ladies here tonight, me and Jamie and two other firefighters. I hear gentle snoring from one of the beds.

The moon hangs too bright for this hour, like it’s trying to shine a light on all my lies. I can feel its pull like a whisper in my blood, reminding me of last night—of everything I’ve risked.

I shouldn’t have gone out. I shouldn’t have met Ember. And I definitely shouldn’t have handed over that camera.

But I had to.

I check the duffel bag under the bed. The burner phone sits inside, powered off. Even with it off, I feel watched. Like Ember’s eyes might pierce through every wall, every lie I’ve wrapped around myself.

Noah knows something’s up. He has to. Hell, he probably knows everything but is too noble—or too strategic—to confront me head-on. Not yet.

I exhale and sink deeper into the mattress, exhaustion finally hitting. I haven't really slept in days. Just naps. Surveilling. Pretending. Wanting things I shouldn't want.

But before sleep takes me, I break my own promise. I pull Noah’s shirt from the duffel bag and inhale him like a secret I can't quit.

It still smells like him. Charred pine. Smoke. That hint of wildness beneath the surface. Something primal and aching.

I bury my face in it, and for a moment, I let myself pretend. Pretend we’re just two people, not enemies or spies or monsters in human skin. Just a man and a woman, caught in the burn of something that was never meant to last.

Sleep takes me before I can stop it, and for once, I don’t fight the dreams that come.

Not yet.

It’s been two days since Nicole’s funeral, and everyone seems to be strangely back to normal. Marcus and Jamie have made full recoveries, at least on the surface.

But other things have changed. Noah is working us harder than ever, intent on not losing anyone else on his watch. I can feel his guilt dripping off him like maple sap.

Marcus seems to be keeping his distance, which is both good and bad. I need to keep him close so I can uncover his story. But not so close that he discovers mine.

And Captain Greene, well, he appears to be fighting demons of his own, even as he continues to deny the supernatural clues all around him. His eyes are rimmed in red, and there’s a slight twitch in his left hand.

By the time we roll the fire truck back into the garage, my arms feel like rubber and my face is streaked with soot.

It’s been a relentless day—one small blaze after another flaring across the county like sparks on a live wire.

Dispatch kept us busy with barely enough time to reset in between. I lost count after the sixth call.

The truck door creaks as I slide down and land on aching feet. Every inch of me is tired, but there's something oddly satisfying about it, too. I didn’t just keep up with the team today—I led half the charges into the smoke. Still, I’m relieved to be standing back in the firehouse.

Noah hops out beside me, brushing ash off his turnout coat. He offers a glance, short but weighted. “You good?”

I nod, pulling off my gloves. “Charred, but upright.”

“Let’s get those checked,” he says, gesturing toward my hands.

Together, we walk to sick bay. Tori waits inside, her hair pulled back, skin glowing from some inner witchy balance I haven’t managed to master yet. The room smells like sage and lavender. Soft, herbal clutter everywhere—blankets, salves, a kettle hissing on the back shelf.

Tori’s eyes flick to my wrist, then to the small scorch across Noah’s jawline. “Sit,” she says, already pulling a few vials from the shelf.

As she works, I feel the familiar tug of her energy channeling through her fingers. The burn on my palm fades, replaced by warmth and the faint shimmer of magic.

Noah squints at her. “Wait a second. How long have you been hiding this?”

Tori gives him a sly grin. “Seven years of impeccable restraint.”

I chuckle. “She’s my cousin. That’s how I got the job.”

Noah blinks like he’s recalibrating. His gaze sweeps the space—jars of oils, herbs, an old mortar and pestle. “How the hell did I miss it?”

“She’s a very good masker,” I say, a little too proudly.

Noah nods, his voice softer now. “Well… thanks.”

Tori arches a brow. “We say, ‘I appreciate this gesture." She tucks her hair back behind her ear, displaying a pointy, fae ear. Noah shakes his head with amazement and sincere respect.

For the first time since I arrived at Firehouse 333, I feel…

grounded. Like maybe I’m not entirely alone in this firestorm of secrets.

Tori knows my truth. Noah now knows hers.

But neither of them knows about the FBI badge I keep hidden beneath the floorboard…

or that this entire mission could jeopardize our deepest secrets.

And still, I’m not ready to walk away. Not from the fire. Not from this case. And certainly not from Noah.

Noah doesn’t say much as we leave sick bay, but his silence isn’t neutral—it hums with tension, something unspoken simmering beneath the surface. The second we hit the hallway, he grabs my wrist—hard.

Before I can react, he pins me against the cool concrete wall, his body caging me in, his breath brushing against my cheek.

“So when were you going to tell me?” he asks, voice low and rough.

I could break the hold—I know I could—but I don’t want to. I love feeling the connection to him, even if he's angry with me. But the heat in his eyes isn’t just anger. It’s confusion. Hurt. Maybe even betrayal.

“I didn’t think I’d have to spell it out,” I say, voice even. “Given everything we’ve been through.”

His eyes narrow. He surveys the hall to make sure we are alone. “I’m not talking about the witchy part.”

My pulse kicks harder in my throat.

“I’m talking about the other matter,” he continues. “The black SUV. You dressed in black. You having possession of an item that was turned over to the authorities.” He inches even closer. “You thought I wouldn’t put the pieces together? Let me tell you, you’re not warding as well as your cousin.”

His scent coils around me—smoke and pine and something wild beneath it all. I shove gently at his chest, breaking free with a sharp breath, but I don’t go far.

“You were watching me?” I ask, more curious than angry.

“I’m always watching you,” he says, voice thick. “Because I have to.”

There’s something about the way he says it—like it’s a burden, a compulsion, a truth he can’t escape. His body is still thrumming with adrenaline from the field, from whatever storm is building inside him, but I can’t tell if he wants to kiss me or cuff me again.

Maybe both.

I take a step back, needing space to think, to breathe. “I didn’t lie to you.”

“No,” he agrees. “You just left a few very important details out.”

The air between us sparks, thick with everything we’re not saying. We stare each other down like wolves circling the same fire, neither willing to back down first.

But neither of us is ready to walk away either.

"Spill it!" he commands.

Every bone in my body wants to, but I can't.

My nervous system streams signals in all directions at once like a broken fire hydrant gushing spray. I don't know what else to do.

So I bolt from the firehouse, leaving Noah to burn down behind me. Trees blur past, their shadows streaking across my vision as I crash into the woods, not caring which path I take. The forest greets me with cool earth and the scent of moss, but I barely register it. My mind is spinning too fast.

What was I thinking? Telling Noah nothing when he was clearly watching me? Letting him touch me like that, hold me like he could see through my skin to everything I was hiding?

He knows.

He doesn’t know everything—but he knows enough.

And I know there's no way I can outrun him.

I just need time. Distance. A plan.

I dart past an old oak, trying to find my bearings.

Twigs snap behind me. My heart skitters, and I whirl around—but I’m alone.

I spin to continue my getaway, only to run right into a goddamn freight train. A warm wall of muscle and heat.

Noah.

I smack into his chest with a grunt, my hands instinctively grabbing for balance—and finding him instead. His arms are already around me, tightening, not letting me fall.

“Running won’t save you from the truth,” he says.

I'm not sure which truth he is referencing, although I can't argue the point.

“You followed me,” I pant, struggling for control over my breath and my body.

“Of course I did,” he growls, his voice more beast than man. “This isn't over.”

He says nothing. His eyes blaze in the moonlight, almost glowing. They look feral. Hungry.

I try to back away, but he pulls me tighter.

And then it happens. He kisses me.

It’s not gentle. It’s raw, consuming—an explosion we’ve both been trying to outrun.

My fingers thread into his hair, and his hands slide down my back, anchoring me to him like I’m the only thing keeping him sane.

The forest fades. The mission fades. All I know is his mouth and the fire inside me that answers it.

Noah’s kiss is relentless, his lips demanding, his tongue a storm against mine.

I’m pressed against him, his heat searing through my clothes, his hands gripping my waist like he’s afraid I’ll vanish.

My pulse roars in my ears, drowning out everything but the hunger between us.

I claw at his shirt, desperate for more, for skin, for him .

His breath comes ragged as he lifts me, my legs wrapping around him, and he backs me against the oak, the rough bark biting into my spine.

His mouth trails down my neck, teeth grazing, sending shivers through me.

I arch into him, gasping, my nails digging into his shoulders.

His hands slide up my thighs, under my skirt, and I’m trembling, on the edge of something wild and uncontrollable.

But then he stops. His forehead rests against mine, both of us panting, the air thick with unspoken need. “Not yet,” he growls, his voice hoarse, before setting me down, his touch lingering, leaving me aching and desperate for more.

The forest around us feels alive, the ancient symbols beneath our feet glowing faintly, as if feeding off our unspent desire.

Noah’s eyes, still feral, lock onto mine, and I see the struggle in them—the same battle I’m waging inside.

We’re both teetering on the edge, craving release but held back by something greater than ourselves.

The mission. The truth. The magic that binds us.

We break apart, gasping for air. “Why?” I whisper, my voice shaking. “Why stop now?”

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead, his hands move to my face, his thumbs brushing my cheeks, his touch tender despite the raw need still thrumming between us. “Because this isn’t just about us,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my lips.

His words send a jolt through me, sharper than his touch. I’m an awakening fire witch, and he’s a wolf shifter—two forces of nature colliding, neither fully in control. The forest seems to hold its breath, waiting for us to decide what comes next.

Noah steps back, just enough to break the spell but not enough to sever the connection.

His chest rises and falls with effort, his muscles taut under his shirt.

I mirror him, my heart still pounding, my skin still humming with the ghost of his touch.

The air between us crackles, charged with unspoken promises and unfulfilled desire.

“We’re not done,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “But we’re not rushing this either. Not when there’s so much at stake.”

I nod, though my body screams in protest. Every nerve ending aches for him, for the completion of what we started. But deep down, I know he’s right. This isn’t just about lust or even love. It’s about power, destiny, and the ancient forces that have brought us together.

The forest whispers around us, the wind carrying the scent of pine and earth. I feel the pull of the symbols beneath my feet, a faint warmth spreading through my veins. Noah’s gaze softens, and for a moment, the beast in him recedes, leaving only the man—strong, vulnerable, and as lost as I am.

I swallow hard, my throat tight with emotion.

His words echo in my mind, heavy with implication.

What comes after isn’t just physical release—it’s a bond, deep and irrevocable, that will alter us both forever.

When we finally give in, it will be more than sex.

It will be a claim, a surrender, a merging of souls.

And for that, I’m ready to wait.

The forest exhales. Noah’s hand tightens around mine, and I squeeze back, our silent agreement hanging in the air.

“I knew,” he says, his forehead pressed to mine, “from the moment we met, that you were special. And that you were hiding something. But this…..” It’s as if his words trail off.

But his lips aren't moving. The words are inside my head.

I stumble back. “Did you just—?”

But he doesn't get a chance to respond.

The fire alarm screams through the silence, cutting through the tension like a blade. For a split second, we just stare at each other—my lips still tingling from his kiss, his hand clenched around my wrist like he’s afraid letting go will mean losing something important.

Then instinct kicks in.

"This isn't over," he shouts as we hustle back to the firehouse.

We take off running, boots pounding against the soft forest floor.

Branches claw at my arms, but I don’t slow.

Neither does he. We burst from the tree line just as the overhead lights on the firehouse flood the lawn in blinding white.

The front bay doors creak open, and firefighters spill into action like a well-oiled machine.

Back into the blaze. Back into the war.

Adrenaline roars in my veins, but so does something else—something deeper and older than duty.

Because whatever this is between us—whatever fate has planned—I know one thing for sure:

This fire isn’t just out there anymore.

It’s in me.

In him.

And it’s about to consume everything we’re trying to protect.