Chapter 6

LESSIE

When my eyes fluttered open, I knew immediately I wasn’t in my dorm.

The bed beneath me was too soft, the sheets too luxurious, and the air filled with a scent that wasn’t mine.

I shifted, sinking deeper into the warmth, my senses instantly overwhelmed by cedar, smoke, and something achingly familiar.

My pulse skipped when I realized what it was.

Dante.

I stiffened, the memory of the night before clawing back into me, pain, shifting, fur, claws, the unbearable sound of my own bones snapping.

And then Dante. His arms around me. His eyes refused to let me go.

My chest rose and fell rapidly as I pushed myself upright, clinging to the blanket draped over me.

This room…

It was magnificent. The walls were painted in a deep shade of charcoal, smooth and seamless, as though the very color itself breathed mystery.

Long, elegant drapes of midnight blue framed the tall arched windows, sunlight spilling through like golden blades.

A grand bookshelf stretched across one wall, filled with ancient-looking tomes and leather-bound volumes.

The furniture was carved dark wood, polished so perfectly it gleamed even in the soft light.

A massive desk sat near the window, scattered with papers, quills, and what looked like maps marked with red ink.

But what drew me in most was the art. Paintings and sketches covered nearly every space not occupied by shelves, landscapes of forests, wolves under the moon, storms tearing across oceans.

And then… my breath caught.

There, near the far wall, above a small table covered with candles, was a sketch. It was unfinished, the strokes sharp, almost impatient.

But I knew those eyes. I would know them anywhere.

Mine.

The young woman in the drawing wasn’t complete, her hair still just outlines, her lips a faint suggestion.

But the eyes were large, piercing, restless, and they were unmistakably mine.

“What the hell…” I whispered under my breath as I stumbled out of bed, the blanket clutched around me.

My legs still trembled from weakness, but I forced them to move, every step drawing me closer to that sketch.

My fingers trembled as I reached out, ready to touch it, to prove it was real and not a cruel trick of my imagination.

“You’re awake.”

The voice behind me made me jump violently, my heart slamming against my ribs. I spun around, clutching the blanket tighter.

Dante.

He stood near the doorway, his tall frame backlit by the glow of the morning sun.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said softly, his voice low and rough like velvet dragged across stone.

He lifted a tray in his hands and walked toward me. “Here. You should drink this. It’ll help with the strain.”

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly parched. My hands shook as I took the cup of tea he offered, the steam curling upward and warming my face.

“Thank you,” I muttered, avoiding his eyes as I lifted it to my lips.

The liquid burned pleasantly down my throat, calming the raw ache inside me. But when I shifted slightly, I felt the blanket slip.

My nightwear, if it could even be called that, had loosened, the neckline gaping far too low.

Heat surged to my face as I realized the upper swell of my breast was exposed.

Dante’s gaze darkened, his eyes flickering down before he jerked his head away, as though fighting himself.

Mortified, I scrambled to fix the fabric. But in my haste, the cup tilted in my hand and scorching tea spilled across my chest.

“Ah!” I cried out, dropping the cup to the floor as pain seared my skin.

In an instant, Dante was beside me, his movements so swift it stole my breath.

He grabbed a cloth from the tray and pressed it against my chest, his fingers brushing dangerously close to my skin.

Time stopped.

My body froze under his touch. The warmth of his hand through the cloth, the nearness of him, the scent of cedar and smoke engulfing me, it was too much.

My heartbeat thundered so loudly I swore he could hear it. My lips parted on a shaky inhale, my body trembling under his proximity.

When I dared to look up, his face was inches from mine. His eyes locked onto me, no longer guarded, but burning.

And then, right before my eyes, they changed. From their usual dark shade to something… otherworldly. Silver and molten, glowing with a predator’s intensity.

I gasped, flinching back.

Dante froze, his jaw tightening. He pulled away instantly, standing to his full height and turning his back to me.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice strained, as if he hated himself for even being near me. He thrust the cloth into my hands.

“Here. You should… you should take care of it.”

I pressed the cloth against my chest, my breaths uneven, my mind spinning with too many questions I wasn’t ready to ask.

Silence stretched between us until Dante exhaled slowly, as if steadying himself, then cleared his throat.

He turned slightly, his expression unreadable once more. “You deserve to know everything about last night.”

I stiffened, my hand tightening around the cloth. “Know what?”

“Yes.” He walked toward the bed and sat on the edge, his elbows resting on his knees. He didn’t look at me at first, as if gathering his words.

“Lessie… you aren’t entirely human. I know you think werewolves are a myth, but maybe this myth is true.”

I stared at him, my lips parting in disbelief. “You’re joking.”

His gaze lifted, sharp, unflinching. “No. You are a werewolf. And not just any wolf. Your wolf is rare and different. Star is unlike the others.”

The name made me flinch. Star. My wolf. The voice that had whispered inside me.

I shook my head violently, backing away. “No. No, that’s insane. Wolves and Moonborns belong in fairy tales, they are not real. Why are you trying to mess up my mind?” My voice cracked, trembling with panic.

Dante’s jaw tightened. “You can deny it, but you felt it. You shifted last night. You heard her as much as I did.”

“Stop!” I snapped, clutching my bag and stuffing my things into it with shaking hands. “I won’t listen to this madness. I don’t care what happened, I’m leaving.”

He rose, his voice was firmer now. “Lessie!”

“No!” I hissed, slinging the bag over my shoulder. My eyes burned with furious tears.

“I don’t want your explanations. I don’t want this. I’m not your wolf. I’m not anyone’s.”

Before he could stop me, I rushed past him, my heart in my throat.

The next day in school was torture.

I tried to focus, to pretend nothing had changed, but every time Dante entered the lecture hall, my heart betrayed me.

He stood tall and commanding at the front of the room, his presence filling every corner.

His eyes found mine more times than I could count, each glance making my skin prickle and my stomach twist.

He spoke of werewolves that morning. Their origins. Their strengths.

Their bond to the moon. His voice was calm, measured, but every word felt like it was meant for me.

“Werewolves,” he said, pacing slowly before the rows of students.

“Are born of both myth and blood. They are not mere creatures of instinct, but beings of balance, caught between humanity and something greater.”

Snickers rippled through the class, students whispering, clearly thinking this was just another eccentric lecture.

“What about wolfless ones?” a student in the back called out mockingly, and laughter followed.

My face flamed.

Dante’s gaze flicked to me. “There are no true wolfless,” he said coolly, silencing the laughter. “Only wolves yet to awaken.”

My breath caught. My nails dug into my palms beneath the desk. He was talking about me.

I couldn’t look at him anymore. I ducked my head, hiding my face, counting the seconds until the class ended.

By the time I stumbled back into my dorm that evening, relief flooded me. I tossed my bag to the floor and collapsed onto my bed, burying my face into the pillow.

But even here, in the silence, his words echoed in my head.

You are a werewolf.

Star is unlike the others.

There are no true wolfless.

“Shut up,” I whispered to myself, my voice shaking. But the denial rang hollow.

Desperation drove me to pull out my laptop. I typed furiously into the search bar, werewolf signs, symptoms, legends.

Page after page flashed before me, words like “enhanced senses,” “nightmares before awakening,” “a bond to the moon.”

My hands trembled as I read them. Too many matched me.

The sleepless nights. The instincts I couldn’t explain. The way my body had betrayed me.

My eyes widened as panic clawed at my chest.

It was real.

I slammed the laptop shut, my breathing erratic. That’s when the shouting started outside.

I jumped, startled, and rushed to the hallway. Students crowded together, their voices sharp and excited.

Pushing through the throng, I saw two girls clawing at each other, hair pulling, nails scraping. Their shrieks filled the corridor.

And the reason?

Professor Dante.

“Pathetic,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. Every girl in this academy seemed bewitched by him.

Handsome, young, powerful, it was a dangerous combination. But to fight over him? To humiliate themselves in front of everyone?

I hissed under my breath and turned back, fed up with the chaos.

I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and forget the world.

But the moment I opened my dorm door, everything exploded.

A deafening blast threw me back, the force slamming me against the wall.

Pain shot through my body, white light searing my vision.

And then, nothing.