Chapter 1

Heather's POV

A hand-span above the treetops the moon hangs fat and golden, smudging silver along the rim of the royal clearing. Honeysuckle rides the late-summer breeze, thick enough to taste, and the bonfire sends a roar of sparks up to meet the stars. Laughter rolls around the circle of benches, louder than the crack of pine knots splitting inside the flames.

Nicholas—my big brother, the king’s Beta and tonight’s groom—throws his head back and bellows at one of Anthony’s terrible stories. The firelight catches the edge of his smile and I cannot help answering it. Home wouldn’t be home without Nick’s laughter.

I have missed this din, this firelit chaos. Four years ago, Cole rode in with Alpha Lucas on a diplomatic visit, our eyes met, the bond snapped into place—and I left for Blood Moon in the same car that carried the delegation home. Since then, Cole’s work as Beta and the Shadow Pack border skirmishes have kept us pinned to our territory. I brought Zach to meet my parents once after his birth. Once. That ache sits under my ribs like an old bruise. Tonight, almost heals it.

Cole eases onto the bench behind me, long legs bracketing mine,  his scent of Tobacco and eucalyptus wrapping around my shoulders. When his arms settle across my waist the noise of the party blurs, leaving the steady drum of his heart against my back.

“You have gone quiet on me again, my love.” His voice is velvet, low enough that only I can hear. A pleasant shiver sparks along my spine.

“I am soaking it in,” I whisper. “The people, the heat, the terrible jokes.” I tip my head until our cheeks touch. “You, getting along with my family.”

He huffs a soft laugh against my temple, this man has been expertly navigating my father’s jibes, and my brothers’ subtle challenges all day. It was only when they saw him playing with Zach did they both calm down slightly. Cole Larkin, the fiercest fighter in Blood Moon, turns to molten sugar whenever our boy toddles into view. He will melt just the same for the pup now no bigger than a poppy seed in my womb.

My palm drifts over my flat stomach and wonder blooms like dawn. Helena confirmed it at sunrise, her voice ringing with certainty.

‘He will be overjoyed,’ Helena hums. ‘This one is a daughter.’

My throat tightens. I have not told Cole yet. No wolf should miss the scent of his mate’s pregnancy, but the pup must be only days along, her heartbeat still shy. I want the moment to be perfect.

The bonfire flares, sending a sheet of sparks into the dark. For a breath the clearing hushes, and in that hush I feel it—eyes. Cold. Measuring. I lift my gaze to the wall of trees. Between two trunks a silhouette lingers, cloak shifting like liquid shadow.

Helena growls. The hairs on my arms rise.

Cole’s hands tighten. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” I force a smile that fools no one. “Zach is with Mother. I promised one bedtime story, and you know how Grandmother’s stories turn into three.”

He pushes to his feet at once. Protective. Certain. “Early night then.”

We make our farewells. Nicholas clasps Cole’s wrist, Kayla hugs me, her little bump pressing against my flat one. Four-year-old Aiden darts around our knees with a wooden sword, already defending his new baby sister on the way.

Beyond the fire’s glow the forest feels different. The crickets have fallen silent. The breeze has died. Sap-scent and moss should comfort me, but unease crawls under my skin.

He senses it. Cole steps ahead of me, shoulders squared, every inch the warrior.

Something moves.

“Do not be afraid, my children,” a voice intones—deep as mountain stone, smooth as river water.

The figure from the trees glides forward. Moonlight catches her face, and the night seems to bend away from her. Skin like alabaster veiled in starlight, lips pale, almost blue, and eyes—blank, milky, staring straight through flesh and bone to whatever lies beneath.

An Oracle.