Page 31 of Fated to the Lone Shifter (Curse of the Lunaris Alpha #1)

Chapter twenty-nine

Into the Inferno

NOAH

M arcus looks like hell when they bring him out.

His shirt’s wrinkled, his hair’s a mess, and his eyes—those wide, bloodshot eyes—lock on me like I’m the only lifeline he’s got left.

After getting the bad news from Sera about Bode’s imminent release, Marcus barely makes it to the truck. I open the passenger door for him, and he gets in slowly, carefully, like his joints don’t quite belong to him yet. I slide behind the wheel, shut the door, and let the quiet stretch between us.

“I didn’t mean to end up with them,” he says finally. His voice is hoarse. “They just… found me.”

“Bode’s crew?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral. I don’t want to spook him.

He nods, eyes straight ahead. “I woke up in their camp. Had no idea how I got there.”

I want to believe him. I really do.

But the firetruck.

The faulty line.

The timing.

But I can’t help myself.

“Did you sabotage the truck, Marcus?” I ask, point-blank.

His jaw tightens. “No. I mean—I was checking it out. Thought something felt off. But I didn’t mess with anything.”

I don’t know if it’s the truth or the new wolf instincts kicking in, but something about his answer feels… conflicted. Not a lie, not exactly. More like a version of the truth with key pieces missing.

The worst part is, I don’t think he knows what’s real anymore. “Did they do something to you?” I ask. “When you were there?”

He shifts, uncomfortable. “I don’t know. It’s all blurry. Like a dream you can’t wake up from.”

I sigh and grip the wheel tighter.

He’s not ready for the full moon. Not like this. And yet, it’s coming. I can already feel it rising in my blood, stirring my wolf like a storm beneath my skin.

“You’re turning tonight,” I say. “You know that, right?” Marcus doesn’t answer, but I see the fear in his eyes. Good. A little fear might keep him from doing something stupid.

Still, I can’t shake the question digging into the back of my mind like a splinter I can’t reach. Is he really on my side? Because tonight, I can’t afford any more surprises in my growing pack.

We drive in silence, the kind that carries too many unsaid things—regret, confusion, maybe even guilt. Marcus fidgets with the hem of his shirt, then scratches at his arm. Classic pre-turn jitters. I remember them well.

“You feel it yet?” I ask, my voice quiet. Measured. He swallows hard and nods. “Yeah. Like something’s crawling under my skin.” I glance over at him. “That’s your wolf. It’s waking up.” He huffs out a bitter laugh. “Feels more like it’s trying to claw its way out.”

“It is. And if you don’t anchor yourself, it will,” I say.

Marcus falls quiet again, staring out the window. His knee bounces, rapid and nervous. “You knew this would happen when you bit me.”

I nod simply. There was no point in denying it. He would know all my thoughts soon enough.

“Why didn’t you tell me what you were?” he asks.

“You weren’t ready to hear it,” I snap, more harshly than I mean to.

That shuts him up.

The rest of the drive is heavy. When I finally pull into the firehouse lot, the sky’s already streaked with deep indigo. The moon’s rising. Fast.

I park and cut the engine. Neither of us moves.

“You need to stay in tonight,” I tell him. “Out of sight. In control. Do not engage anyone, and do not—under any circumstance—try to run.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Marcus.”

He finally looks at me. “You sure I can even control it?”

“No,” I admit. “But you’re not alone.”

A beat passes. Then he mutters, “Don’t know if that’s comforting or terrifying.”

“Welcome to being a wolf.”

I step out of the truck, and he follows, slower than usual. Each step looks like it weighs a hundred pounds. I guide him inside and lead him to one of the unused sleeping quarters.

“Stay here. Lock the door. I’ll bring you food, water, whatever you need.”

“And if I change?”

“Then I’ll be the first thing you see. And together we will feed.”

I close the door, but I don’t leave right away. I wait—listening for movement, for the first signs of the shift.

Because whatever happens tonight, I need him ready.

And I need to believe he’s still the man I called my best friend.

Even if everything in me is bracing for betrayal.

The hall outside where Marcus is sleeping is dark, just the low hum of overhead lights and the sound of distant voices from the firehouse kitchen.

I lean back against the cool wall, pressing my palms to the drywall behind me, trying to catch my breath.

The full moon is rising fast, and I can feel it in every muscle, every bone.

My wolf paces just beneath the surface, anxious and coiled, ready for the night to unravel.

I close my eyes. For a second, I imagine what tonight could’ve looked like if everything had gone differently. If I hadn’t turned Marcus. If I’d gotten to Sera sooner. If we were safe—together.

My mind drifts fusing into a soft glow of morning light filtering through the curtains, Sera’s warm breath tickling my neck as she sleeps curled into my side.

Her hair spills across my chest, a cascade of chestnut waves that smells faintly of lavender from the shampoo she insists on using.

I trace the curve of her shoulder, marveling at how this—this quiet, ordinary moment—feels like the greatest victory of my life.

Outside, the world hums with the rhythm of a Saturday morning: birds chirping, the distant rumble of a lawnmower, the occasional bark of a dog.

It’s the kind of day that stretches lazily ahead, unhurried and full of promise.

Sera stirs, her eyelids fluttering open, and she blinks up at me with that sleepy smile I’ve come to adore.

“Morning,” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep.

I kiss her forehead, and she nuzzles closer, her hand finding mine under the covers.

“You’re up early,” she teases, though we both know I’ve been awake for hours, just watching her.

I shrug, pulling her tighter. “Couldn’t miss this,” I say, and she laughs, a soft, melodic sound that makes my chest ache in the best way.

Breakfast is a chaotic dance in our tiny kitchen.

Sera insists on making pancakes, even though she always burns the first batch, and I take over the coffee, knowing she’ll forget to turn on the pot.

We argue playfully over who gets to flip the pancakes, flour dusting our hands as we bump hips and trade jokes.

The radio plays softly in the background, some old song that makes Sera sing along off-key, her voice blending with the sizzle of butter and the drip of coffee.

It’s messy, it’s loud, and it’s perfect.

Later, we take a walk through the park, hand in hand, the sun warm on our backs.

Sera stops to pet every dog we pass, cooing at them like they’re her long-lost friends, while I tease her about her obsession.

She rolls her eyes but squeezes my hand tighter, her way of saying she doesn’t care what I think.

We sit on a bench by the pond, watching ducks glide across the water, and she leans her head on my shoulder, her presence grounding me in a way I never knew I needed.

That night we’re watching a movie on the sofa.

As the credits roll, Sera sits up, stretching her arms above her head, and grins at me.

“Best day ever,” she declares, and I laugh, pulling her back down for a kiss.

Her lips are soft, tasting faintly of the popcorn we’d shared earlier, and I deepen the kiss, my hands tangling in her hair.

She hums against my mouth, her body pressing closer, and I feel the familiar spark of desire ignite between us.

“Until tomorrow,” I promise, my voice husky as I pull away, but Sera shakes her head, her green eyes glinting with mischief.

“Why wait?” she murmurs, her fingers tracing the edge of my jaw.

I smirk, letting her lead me back to the bedroom, where the curtains are still drawn, leaving the room bathed in soft twilight.

She pushes me gently onto the bed, her movements confident, her gaze burning with a hunger that matches my own.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I whisper, reaching for her, but she presses my hands to the mattress, straddling me with a grin.

“Not so bossy now, huh?” she teases, her ponytail swaying as she leans down, her lips brushing mine.

Her hands roam over my chest, her touch both tender and demanding, and I groan, arching into her. “Sera,” I warn, but she just laughs, her breath hot against my ear. “What are you gonna do about it, wolf?” she challenges, her fingers tracing the edge of my wolf paw tattoo.

I flip her effortlessly, pinning her wrists above her head, and she gasps, her eyes widening with a mix of surprise and arousal. “That,” I say, my voice low, “is what I’m gonna do about it.”

Her lips curve into a smirk, and she bucks her hips against mine, her body flush against mine. “Prove it,” she dares, her voice a whisper.

I don’t need to be told twice. My mouth trails down her neck, my teeth grazing her skin as I unbutton her shirt slowly, savoring the way she shivers beneath me. “You’re so fucking perfect,” I murmur, my lips brushing her collarbone, and she arches into me, her breath hitching.

“Noah,” she pleads, her voice breaking, and I grin against her skin, my hands sliding down to cup her ass, pulling her closer. “Impatient, aren’t we?” I tease, but I’m just as eager, my body throbbing with need.

She tugs at my shirt, and I pull it off, her hands immediately roaming over my chest, her touch electric. “You’re the one who started this,” she reminds me, her lips finding mine again, her kisses hungry and desperate.

I kiss her deeply, my tongue tangling with hers, our breaths mingling as I roll us onto our sides, our bodies pressed together. Her hands slide down, unbuckling my belt, and I groan, my hips thrusting into her touch. “Fuck, Sera,” I mutter, my control slipping as she palms me through my jeans.