CHAPTER THREE

THE WOLF

The restaurant is too bright for my liking, lighting fixtures of different shapes and temperatures lit the room with a harsh whiteness. I blink once, then twice, resisting the instinct to shrink from the light. Even at night, humans still try to imitate the glory of the sun. Instead of embracing the beauty of the moon, they cling to this openness, it made them feel safe.

I stare at my drink without sipping it, eyes fixed on the streets outside. I have done enough to blend in- trimmed the beard, bought the suit, pretended to be a professor. I think I look the part. Still, every time the door opens, I have to stop myself from tensing. The wolf inside me does not trust ease. Especially not here, in this place, where the air feels thin and the moon speaks in whispers.

He wants to let loose, tear at the fabric sticking to my flesh and run wild, hunt.

I inhale deeply, scenting the room again. Caramelized onions. Cheap wine. A woman’s perfume—floral, too loud. And underneath it all, faint but maddening, her. Lingering in the back of my mind. Soft and sweet, something mixed with vanilla and marshmallow.

I grip the edge of the table. 

Control is everything. My father taught me that before he taught me how to fight. ‘Do not lose yourself to instinct, boy. It will betray you the moment you stop thinking.’

But instinct knows her. My body knows her. My wolf sings every time she’s near, even if she doesn’t yet understand why.

She wasn’t supposed to dance with another male. Let him touch her. Press his scent onto her skin. Breathe her in.

The glass in my hand doesn’t shatter, but it nearly does.

“Would you like anything else?”

A soft voice pulls my attention upward. The waitress is smiling at me, tilting her head just enough to be obvious. Her lips are painted red, but her eyes are curious—testing the waters, seeing if I’ll bite.

I don’t.

“No,” I say, voice low. “Thank you.”

Her smile falters just slightly. “Alright. Well… let me know if you change your mind.” She lingers a beat too long, then walks away.

I exhale slowly. My wolf does not stir for her. It never has for anyone but Elowen.  

Mine.

She doesn’t remember who she is. She doesn’t remember me. The moon should have awakened her slowly, allowed her to grow into the knowing. But her father died too early. He would’ve helped her master her shifting. But she was left unguarded, unaware. And now, I’ve had to cross over to the human realm to find her, guide her, bring her home to take her place next to me on the throne. My Luna.

If only that were all I wanted.

But I’ve seen her. I’ve tasted her in dreams, felt her skin under my hands, heard the breathless sounds she makes when she comes undone for me. I carry her on my tongue like a vow I never asked to make. I am here to retrieve her. That is the mission. I did not ask to want her, the goddess chose her for me. I did not ask to crave her. Of all the daughters the goddess could have chosen, she chose this one. My little wolf.

This world has made her soft in the way humans are soft—fragile in body, but so full of feeling it leaks out of them. She doesn’t know how to protect herself, not from the males in this place, not from the pull of the bond.  

Not from me.

I could smell her need the moment I stepped inside. It took every ounce of restraint not to claim her right then and there, on the library floor.

Mine!

Eamon is circling like a vulture. If I don’t bring Elowen back before the moon reaches its peak, he will claim the throne. He already has the support of the High Council and a mate bred for power. All he needs now is for me to fail. For her to remain in the dark. For me to lose control and ruin everything. I’m not going to let that happen.

I down the drink in one big gulp. Pushing the thoughts of my wolf far into the back of my mind. Not now. I have to remain focused and help her find her wolf first. There’s not enough time.

The cycle is already turning. And if I don’t help her awaken before the blood moon, I lose everything—her, my title, my entire realm. But worse than that? I might lose myself.