Are you Excited

"Livana Isole Liveshade! If your feet aren't on these stairs in under thirty seconds, I am leaving for school without you, and you can explain to Mom why you missed birthday pancakes!"

I groaned, burying my face deeper into my pillow. Wait. What time is it? I scrambled for my phone on the nightstand, squinting at the screen. I was supposed to have another twenty minutes.

"Mom made the chocolate chip ones!" my sister, Genevieve, announced, poking her head past my bedroom door. Her light copper hair was pulled up into a messy bun, her pale hazel eyes dancing with mischief.

"I'm awake, I'm awake," I muttered, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.

I’m seventeen or at least, I am for another six hours. Genevieve Harmony Liveshade is two years younger than me, fresh off her own sixteenth birthday last week. Because our birthdays are practically stacked on top of each other and we inherited the exact same pale skin, full lips, and hazel eyes, people constantly mistake us for twins. The only real markers are height and shade: I’m 5'11", sitting comfortably above the average she-wolf, while Genevieve tops out at 5'9", and my hair leans far more coppery-red than her strawberry version.

And today, of all days, I had to spend the first half of my legal adulthood sitting through AP History. Universal tragedy.

"Happy birthday, old lady," Genevieve chimed, waiting for me at the landing as I slung my backpack over my shoulder. "So, on a scale of one to ten, how hard is your heart pounding right now?"

I eyed her sideways as we trotted down the steps. "For third-period calculus? Solid eight."

"You know what I mean!" She bumped her shoulder against mine, grinning. "You turn eighteen today, Liv! What if your mate is sitting in the cafeteria right now?

"Or what if he lives three packs over and I don't feel a thing until I'm twenty-five?" I countered, trying to sound casual. "Honestly, I'd just settle for not having to take a pop quiz today."

"You are so unromantic," she sighed, putting a dramatic hand over her heart. "When I turn eighteen, I am scanning every single room I walk into. I want the whole cinematic moment—eye contact across a crowded hallway, instant fireworks, the works. He better be absolute royalty."

I rolled my eyes, though a small smile tugged at my lips.

As wolves, the mate bond doesn't spark until both individuals hit their eighteenth birthday. Since my official time of birth is around noon today, anyone in my immediate radius who is already eighteen and meant for me will trigger the connection.

"There’s the birthday girl!" Mom called out from the kitchen, sliding a towering stack of golden-brown pancakes drowning in syrup onto the island.

"Happy birthday, sweet pea," Dad added, barely looking up from his coffee mug, though the corner of his mouth was twitching. "Enjoy today, because starting tomorrow, I'm extending your curfew to age thirty-five. No boys allowed within a fifty-foot perimeter."

"Thanks, Dad. Very generous," I laughed, grabbing a fork.

My parents teased, but deep down, I knew my wolf Nyx was practically buzzing beneath my skin. We don't hear our wolves speak in full sentences like characters in old folklore books, but we feel their emotions as clearly as our own. All night, Nyx had been restless, pacing the edges of my subconscious with an electric, jittery excitement.

Her mood was infectious. It was the real reason I’d spent extra time in front of the mirror this morning swipe of dark eyeliner to pop the green tones in my hazel eyes, strawberry tint on my lips, and my favorite pine-green tee under a black leather jacket. Sure, it was standard casual, but I'd put effort into looking like I hadn't put effort in. Not that I’d ever give my family the satisfaction of admitting it.

The fifteen-minute walk to school passed in a blur of crisp morning air and Genevieve’s endless chatter about weekend plans. Once we hit the front gates of Blackwood High, she bolted off toward her sophomore crew, leaving me to head toward the lockers.

"Look who finally joined the adulthood club!"

Aurelia’s voice boomed down the corridor before I even spotted her. Before I could brace myself, she threw her arms around my neck, dragging me into a tight hug. A second later, Vesper and Kane joined in, turning it into a suffocating group crush.

"Happy eighteen, Liv," Vesper laughed, pulling back first. "Your gift is hidden in my car, but you have to wait until final bell to open it."

"Are you losing your mind yet?" Aurelia squeezed my arm, her eyes wide. "Because if I were turning eighteen today, I’d be hyperventilating in the bathroom."

"If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me that today, I'd drop out and buy a sports car," I deadpanned, unlocking my locker. "I'm fine. A little jittery, maybe."

"Nervous is normal," Vesper said softly, leaning back against the metal lockers.

"It's normal until it actually happens, and then it's the best feeling in the world," Kane added, wrapping an arm around Vesper’s waist and pulling her into his side.

"Don't start," Aurelia groaned, tossing her hands up. "No mushy mate stuff before 8:00 AM, please."

Vesper just giggled, turning in Kane's grip to plant a kiss on his jaw. I exchanged a fond, exasperated look with Aurelia. Mated pairs were completely helpless once the bond snapped into place—it was sweet, but sickeningly cute.

"Must be nice," Aurelia mused a second later, her gaze drifting past my shoulder toward the main entrance. "Speaking of total eye candy..."

I turned around, leaning back against my locker to see what had caught her attention.

Walking down the main hall were three male Lycans, moving with that effortless, predatory grace that instantly quieted the surrounding noise of the hallway. They stood at least 6'5" each, shoulders broad enough to block out the fluorescent light overhead.

Lycans were an entirely different species within our world. Where regular wolves like us were bound to pack territories and local alphas, Lycans were treated almost like ancient royalty—direct descendants of the Moon Goddess herself.

They were faster, stronger, and far more dangerous than even a High Alpha. But more than that, they were terrifyingly gorgeous. Jawlines carved from marble, striking features, and an aura of absolute authority that made standard pack dynamics look like child's play. Unlike us, they weren't assigned mates by fate; they chose their own partners, building bonds so intense they could completely overwhelm a standard wolf's instinct.

Out of six hundred students at Blackwood High most of us standard wolves, with a small ten-percent sprinkle of humans there were only five Lycans total.

Right now, the three guys walking past Silas, Julian, and Caspian held the hallway in a quiet chokehold.

The two female Lycans, Selene and Vivian, hadn't been seen in class all week, leaving these three to wander the grounds like visiting monarchs. Nobody knew their last names, and nobody dared ask. They kept entirely to themselves, immune to the desperate stares of every unmated she-wolf within a three mile radius.

Aurelia was practically leaning into my space, sighing quietly. "Imagine a guy like that actually looking your way."

Fluffy pink earmuffs and squeaky toys, I thought, forcing my eyes back to my locker stack. Get a grip, Livana.

"Zero chance," I murmured, pulling my History textbook from the top shelf. "Lycans look for power and perfection. An Omega like me isn't even on their radar."

I snatched my notebook, resolved to keep my head down and survive until lunchtime when my wolf would finally get her answer.