Shift in the air

Emry woke with the feeling that the dream had followed her into the waking world.

The first light of morning spilled across her floorboards, soft gold chasing away the shadows. The air still smelled faintly of wildflowers, stronger than it should have been—thick, living, as though the scent itself had a pulse.

She rubbed her palms over her eyes, trying to shake the remnants of the dream. But the hum remained, faint and rhythmic, thrumming beneath her ribs like the echo of a heartbeat that wasn’t hers.

When she looked toward the window, the light hurt. Not painfully, but sharply—too bright, too vivid. She could see the tiniest flecks of dust drifting through the air, the shimmer of dew clinging to the grass beyond the glass, even the faint tremor of wings from a bird perched on the outer ledge.

Everything felt louder. More alive.

Her wolf.

The realization crept in, quiet but certain. The Moon Goddess’s words lingered in her mind—Your other half has waited long enough.

Emry swung her legs out of bed, her bare feet brushing against the cool wooden floor. She could still feel the phantom warmth of the white wolf’s fur beneath her fingertips, and her chest ached with the memory.

Only one week.

In one week, she would awaken.

She crossed to her dresser and caught her reflection in the mirror. Her skin seemed to glow faintly in the early light, a trick of the sun perhaps—but her eyes… her eyes looked different. Brighter. Greener with faint flickers of violet buried deep in the irises.

She blinked hard and the color vanished, but her pulse didn’t slow.

With a long exhale, she forced herself to focus. There was no time to dwell on dreams or colors that shouldn’t exist. The pack needed her. Eastin had likely already started another round of patrol planning, and Braxton—Moon curse him—would be hovering, pretending not to watch her while doing exactly that.

She dressed quickly, pulling on her boots and shrugging into her jacket, the scent of pine and morning air clinging to the fabric. As she tied her hair back, she glanced once more at the wolf plush resting on her bed.

The hum inside her grew faintly stronger, pulsing in rhythm with her heartbeat.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, though no one was there to hear. “I’m fine.”

But as she stepped into the hallway, the world shifted again. The air carried sound differently now. She could hear every step in the pack house, every heartbeat beyond the walls. Her senses stretched farther than they should, pulling her toward something—or someone.

She froze.

Down the corridor, Braxton’s voice drifted low, speaking with Eastin. She couldn’t make out the words, but she didn’t need to. She could feel him—the weight of his presence like heat on her skin.

Her wolf—still dormant but stirring—responded with a pulse of warmth that made her breath catch.

“No,” she whispered, gripping the doorframe until her knuckles whitened. “Not yet.”

The hum quieted, but it didn’t vanish.

She swallowed hard and forced herself to move, each step deliberate, steady. Whatever was happening to her, whatever the Moon Goddess had awakened, she couldn’t afford to let anyone see it—not yet.

Because if her brother saw, he’d lock her down.

And if Braxton saw…

She didn’t want to think about what he’d do.

So she lifted her chin, straightened her shoulders, and walked down the hall as if her entire world hadn’t shifted overnight.

But somewhere deep within, beneath layers of denial and duty, her wolf opened violet eyes and waited.

Braxton POV

The first thing Braxton noticed was her scent.

It hit him the moment she stepped into the training yard — not the usual trace of wildflowers after rain, but something richer. Wilder. It curled through the morning air, soft and electric, the way lightning smells before a storm.

He froze mid-swing, the weight of the practice blade suddenly foreign in his hand. His wolf stirred restlessly beneath his skin, pacing. Growling. Wanting.

She hadn’t even seen him yet. She was crossing the far side of the yard, talking quietly with one of the young patrol leads, the early sunlight catching in her hair and turning it to flame. But there was something different about the way she moved. A subtle shift in her rhythm. More grounded, more aware.

She feels it, his wolf murmured in the back of his mind. She’s close.

Braxton clenched his jaw. No. It was too soon.

Her awakening wasn’t supposed to happen for another week, and the moment it did, everything would change. The bond would flare to life in ways neither of them could hide, and all the walls he’d spent years building between them would shatter.

He couldn’t let that happen. Not yet.

He dropped the training blade and forced his attention back to the drills, barking orders at the warriors until the noise drowned out his thoughts. But it didn’t drown out her.

Even from across the yard, he could feel her presence pulling at him, the hum of her energy brushing against his like a whisper through the air. He hated how easily it unraveled him. How every instinct in him — Beta, protector, mate — wanted to go to her.

He looked up again just in time to see her glance his way.

For one heartbeat, her gaze met his. And the world narrowed to that single moment — the flicker of violet in her eyes, gone as quickly as it appeared, and the sharp hitch of his breath that followed.

Then she turned away, pretending not to notice.

But she had.

He could tell by the stiffness in her shoulders, by the faint tremor in her scent — not fear, but something closer to awareness. Recognition.

His pulse thundered.

“Braxton!”

Eastin’s voice snapped through the noise, pulling him back. The Alpha strode toward him, expression tight, unreadable.

Braxton straightened automatically. “Alpha.”

Eastin’s gaze flicked from him to Emry, who was now giving instructions to two young trainees with a confidence that hadn’t been there the week before. There was an edge to her now — sharpened, certain — and Eastin saw it too.

“She’s different,” Eastin said under his breath, low enough that no one else could hear.

Braxton hesitated. “She’s been training harder.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Eastin’s eyes narrowed slightly, the Alpha energy rolling off him in waves. “You feel it too, don’t you?”

Braxton’s jaw tightened. “She’s… changing.”

Eastin studied him for a long moment, then turned his gaze back to his sister. “The full moon’s a week away.”

“I know.”

“Then we watch her.”

Braxton’s wolf bristled at that — not at the command itself, but the idea of anyone else watching her. “I already am,” he said quietly.

Eastin’s eyes flicked back to him, sharp with warning. “Good. Just remember why.”

He didn’t need to say the rest.

Because she’s my sister. Because she’s the future Luna. Because she’s the one they’re after.

Braxton inclined his head, forcing the words down. “Understood.”

But as Eastin walked away, Braxton couldn’t help glancing back at Emry again. She was laughing now at something one of the trainees said, that rare, unguarded smile lighting her face. The sight twisted something deep in him — something that wasn’t duty, or instinct, or obligation.

The air between them shimmered faintly, unseen by others but unmistakable to him.

Her wolf was stirring. And when it woke, nothing — not duty, not blood, not even the Moon Goddess herself — would keep her from him.