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12. In My Head, In My Bed
publish date:
2026-08-29 23:35:32
Latest chapter
The Boy Who Would Be Luna 28. The Next Breath
SLATE'S POVGoddess damn it.I knelt on the floor of my apartment. My fingers knotted and dug harshly into the floor, the scrape of wood curls under my nails raking down my senses like teeth on unglazed porcelain—but doing nothing to chill the volcanic flow surging under my skin, deeper than flesh. My breaths came so hot and hard I couldn’t seem to cool them. Restrain them. Calm them down. Calm myself down. My teeth locked together in a vicious clench of sharp edges, tighter and tighter until my jaw creaked and ached in protest.The door slammed shut after Tristan. Hard enough to shake the doorframe.Leaving only the taste of him, wild and sweet on my tongue.Let him go, I told myself. Just let him go.I didn’t want to let him go.Fuck, why couldn’t I control myself around him?And why could I still taste him like the afterecho of some impossible flavor I could never forget?Because OURS, Xin asserted. Why did you push him away?I sank back to sit, bracing my bent legs in front of me,
The Boy Who Would Be Luna 27. The First Taste
TRISTAN'S POVI’d only meant to leave.Anything to escape this heavy, gut-wrenching feeling. Anything to be able to breathe without this heady mixture of uncertain, nervous apprehension and pure wanting. I couldn’t understand the way every nerve ending simmered like sparks the second he came near me. I couldn’t even smell him, but he twisted me around until the tension felt like it would snap. My body couldn’t seem to figure out how to respond to him. Fear. Wariness.Or desire.Which meant it was best to get away. Get some space. He was going to help me figure out this insane plan to make myself a ghost and find a new life. That was all that mattered.So I’d meant to leave his apartment.Stood.Started for the door.And then something stopped me that I couldn’t deny.Slate’s fingers closed around my wrist, a burning brand. His strength locked me, immovable, in place. His arm slid around my waist in an inescapable prison of iron that bound me against his body until his taut musculature
The Boy Who Would Be Luna 26. A Wrench in the Works
SLATE'S POVThis was not going according to plan.I felt like a growl in the shape of a man, sitting on this sofa with Tristan in my apartment and trying to pretend I couldn’t drown in every droplet of scent rising off him. The moonsbell made almost everything else in the apartment invisible.That only made him stand out even more.He sat in the easy chair across from my sofa like he’d launch into flight at any moment, so tense it made sleek muscles stand out in the long line of his pale throat. A pale throat desperately in need of a mark. In need of my mark.Goddammit, I had to get my mind back on track.And he had to stop smelling like if I touched him he’d go belly up with his neck on display and his legs spread for me.I sat forward, dragged my fingers through my hair, and tried to just think. I had wanted to ruin Tristan for Clark’s plans. Having the pup invite himself onto my doorstep like this threw a complete spanner in that idea. Clark wouldn’t just let this go, let Tristan r
The Boy Who Would Be Luna 25. Purpose
TRISTAN'S POV“What do you mean, you ran away?”I sat in the easy chair opposite Slate’s long, low sand-colored couch and tried not to wince. The words came out like they’d been stamped on me in his low Cajun drawl.“I mean he introduced me to Jennika, and I ran away. I haven’t been back since that night.”Settled on the sofa with his muscled thighs spread and his hips slung forward, Slate dragged a hand through his ashen hair, ruffling it into wild arcs. “Where have you been staying?”“I have a small campsite a few miles south of the Witch’s cottage.”“Her name is Callista. Not the Witch.” He said it almost absently, his gaze unfocused. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and covered his nose and mouth with both thick, crude, yet strangely artistic hands. “Your father hasn’t tried to track you?”I shook my head. “Not yet. I bought some supplies with my debit card and then camped as far away from the shop as possible.”“He can still track your scent.”“As far as I know,
The Boy Who Would Be Luna 24. Crossed Paths
SLATE'S POVCallista’s door swung shut behind me. The fresh vial of moonsbell spray dangled from my fingertips. Stronger this time, so when I got to the last dregs it wouldn’t thin out and leave my scent exposed like the last draught. If not for the moonsbell, I’d never have been able to come back to Clearstone. I’d have fucked off back to Louisiana—maybe even back to France—and stayed there.But the moonsbell not only masked my scent, but once it fully faded—it took all traces of itself with it. As if it had never been there. As if I had never been there. Strong enough and it could last a few days before the smell disappeared itself into nothing, taking my scent with it. When just passing through, it made me a ghost.This vial should keep me covered for another few months. Home called me, after a long night at the bar and more than an hour spent sharing ale over Callista’s fireplace. She made good ale, for a human who didn’t know when to die. Strong enough that even I could feel it.
The Boy Who Would Be Luna 23. Wastrel
TRISTAN'S POVI couldn’t go home.That night replayed across my thoughts again and again. Jennika’s hands against my chest. Her smile. Her scent—commingled anticipation, confidence, desire. I could tell she believed the lingering scent of male lust surrounding me was in response to her.And I could tell, from his satisfied and arrogant stance, that my father thought he’d maneuvered me expertly into his trap.I’d never excused myself faster. A sudden pressing matter that had just come up. An excuse my father would have to know was a lie, but that he wouldn’t dare challenge in front of the pack or risk making the schism in the Alpha family clear. And Jennika had no way of knowing I, as the next Alpha, didn’t have some urgent political family business to take care of. Maybe I didn’t like her still being able to smell the effect Slate had on me.But it kept her from smelling that I was lying, too.And kept her from following as I’d escaped the ballroom, stumbled out into the snow, flung m
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