The Luna He Didn't Recognize

The brush scraped stone, the sound loud in the cavernous entrance hall. My knuckles burned where the harsh soap met raw skin.

I kept my head down, scrubbing grime that probably wouldn’t even be noticed. Around me, the air buzzed – the Silver Crescent pack preparing for the arrival.

Polished silver gleamed, heavy tapestries depicting long-dead Alphas hung straight, and the sharp, vital scents of active wolves filled the space.

Mine was a whisper, barely there.

Torvin, young and eager in his new warrior leathers, swaggered past. His shoulder clipped mine, hard enough to send dirty water sloshing from my bucket onto the flagstones I’d just cleaned.

He snorted, a puff of air smelling like damp earth and smugness. "Watch it, scentless." He didn’t break stride.

My jaw tightened. I grabbed a rag, soaking up the spill before anyone important noticed. Useless to say anything. Useless to even feel the flare of heat behind my ribs.

"Seraphina!" Beta Elara’s voice cracked like a whip from across the hall. She stood inspecting a vase, her nose wrinkled. "The receiving chamber fireplace needs wood. Stop dawdling."

I scrambled to my feet, joints protesting the sudden movement. My limbs always felt heavier, slower than everyone else's. "Yes, Beta." The words were barely a breath.

I headed for the woodpile near the back entrance, my worn boots silent on the stone. Just as I reached for a log, a ripple went through the hall. The busy hum quieted. Pack members straightened, heads lifting, postures shifting from work to wary respect.

Even my dulled senses felt it – a charge in the air, a weight settling.

The great oak doors groaned open, pushed by two sentries whose grey tunics marked them as Stone River wolves.

And there he stood.

Alpha Damon. Framed in the doorway, sunlight catching the sharp line of his jaw, turning his dark hair to obsidian.

Power rolled off him in waves, a tangible force that pressed the air from my lungs. It silenced the hall, demanded attention. Our own Alpha Marcus, waiting to greet him, seemed less substantial for a heartbeat.

Then his scent hit me. Pine needles crushed after rain. The electric tang of ozone before a lightning strike. Wild. Untamed. It bypassed thought, bypassed reason, and slammed directly into the core of me.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic trapped thing. My knees threatened to buckle. I gripped the rough bark of the log I’d just lifted, grounding myself.

His gaze swept the hall. Dark, intense eyes took everything in – the space, the waiting wolves, Alpha Marcus stepping forward. Assessing. Calculating.

Then, his eyes found mine.

A fraction of a second. That’s all it took.

The world tilted.

Mate.

Not a thought, a brand seared onto my soul. A shockwave vibrated through me, fierce and terrifying. Heat flared under my skin, chasing away the perpetual chill. Nerves I hadn't known were sleeping suddenly screamed awake. Him.

I saw it in his eyes – a flicker. A momentary snag. Confusion? Recognition on some primal level he couldn't immediately place?

It was gone as quickly as it appeared.

A faint line appeared between his brows. His gaze slid over my faded tunic, my dirt-smudged hands, the utter lack of wolfish presence clinging to me. The brief flicker was replaced by… nothing. Blankness. Then, a cool dismissal so profound it was like being erased.

He turned his full attention to Alpha Marcus, dipping his head in a gesture of controlled power. "Alpha Marcus. Thank you for receiving us." His voice was a low rumble that vibrated through the stone floor, through the soles of my worn boots.

Alpha Marcus moved forward, clasping Damon’s forearm. "Alpha Damon. Welcome to Silver Crescent. We trust your journey was uneventful."

"Adequate," Damon replied, his gaze already scanning past Marcus, towards the formal receiving chamber.

His entourage, equally imposing Stone River wolves, fell into step behind him. Their scents mingled – granite, forest floor, cold air – but his dominated, pine and storm overriding all else.

He walked past my position near the woodpile without a second glance. As if I were just another shadow, part of the stone itself.

The log suddenly felt impossibly heavy. My arms trembled. I let it thud back onto the pile, the sound swallowed by the resumed murmur of pack life as the Alphas disappeared down the corridor.

Beta Elara’s sharp gaze found me immediately. "The wood, Seraphina! Did your ears stop working?"

"No, Beta," I mumbled, forcing my limbs to obey, scooping up several logs. The wood scraped against my tunic.

The vibrant, impossible connection I'd felt moments ago curdled inside me. It wasn't just a wound now; it felt like poison seeping into my veins. The scent of ash from the cold hearth ahead seemed stronger, dustier.

My mate had arrived.

And I was less than the dirt on his boots.