Under the Crescent Moon Again

POV: James

I stormed off the training field, furious. Furious at Richard, furious at Henry for that look he'd given me, but underneath all of it, furious mostly at myself.

I shouldn't have followed her last night. I knew it walking down there.

Another crescent moon had come and gone, and despite every rational argument I'd made to myself, I'd trailed after Trishelle to the lake again anyway. I'd told myself I wouldn't. I'd told myself the same damn thing the night before that, and the night before that, and every time my feet carried me down the same worn path regardless.

Real strong willpower you've got there, man.

Even having already seen her like that once, the sight still hit me like the first time, like something had reached into my chest and wrung it out slow.

Something about her had changed, though. I wasn't sure if my eyes were playing tricks on me, but she didn't look nearly as thin as before. Her hips had filled out, softer now, her stomach no longer hollow. Even her cheeks held a bit more color and shape than they used to.

It should have meant nothing to me. It meant way too much.

Of course I noticed. I've been watching her every damn night for weeks. Hard not to notice.

Last night, the thoughts crawling through my head while I watched her had gotten a lot more graphic, considerably less patient, a lot more filthy, enough that I'd barely slept afterward. I'd lain awake replaying the curve of her spine, the moonlight pooled against her skin, and other things I had no business imagining. I hated myself a little more with every passing hour and couldn't stop all the same.

That's the reason I lost today. Had nothing to do with anything Richard said. Nothing at all.

Speak of the devil. Richard jogged up behind me and slung an arm over my shoulders, way too pleased with himself.

"Hey, don't beat yourself up, Alpha," he said. "Clearly you weren't in the right headspace today."

I shrugged the arm off, irritation flaring fresh, hot, immediate. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I meant what I said. About that Omega." Richard's grin widened, sly and knowing. He cupped his hands in front of his own chest and gave them a slow, exaggerated bounce. "You know, the one in the kitchen with the - "

I spun on him, temper spiking hotter than it had any right to over something so stupid, my hands curling into fists before I'd even decided to move.

It's the gloating. That's what's pissing me off. Definitely not her.

Definitely.

 

POV: James

"Listen here." I leaned in close, close enough that Richard's grin finally slipped. "Yeah, I gave her that name back when I was a stupid pup. I'm not that person anymore. Whatever her past is, Trishelle's pack now. I've got a duty to protect her, same as anyone else."

The words came out sharper than I meant. Guilt sat underneath them, old and heavy, the kind I'd never quite managed to shake no matter how many years I piled on top of it. Even now, I could still hear the cruelty in my younger voice, still see the way she'd flinched like I'd struck her. That memory never faded, no matter how hard I tried to bury it under duty and rank and the armor of being Alpha. Some nights it crept up on me anyway, uninvited, dragging me back to a version of myself I'd rather forget existed.

"Sure you do, Alpha." Richard's grin snapped right back, slyer this time, like he'd been waiting for the perfect moment to needle me. "I'm sure it's got nothing to do with wanting her mounted on your wall like a trophy."

Heat crawled up my neck before I could stop it. My own brain betrayed me, conjuring Trishelle pinned against my office wall, hair coming loose, breath catching in her throat, her pulse fluttering under my mouth. Christ. Not now. Not with Richard sitting there, watching me like I was a puzzle he'd already half solved. I hated how easily he read me, how little effort it seemed to take him to peel back years of careful control.

Richard clocked the blush the instant it hit. Something knowing flickered across his face, that particular brand of satisfaction he wore whenever he caught someone else's weakness before they'd even noticed it themselves. He'd always had a talent for that, sniffing out the soft places in people and pressing until they cracked.

Damn it. I forced my expression flat, though I doubted it fooled anyone within a ten mile radius. Certainly not him. My jaw ached from the effort of holding it there, steady, unreadable, while everything underneath threatened to spill out anyway.

"Don't worry, I'm not judging." Richard's tone smoothed out, turned calculating, the teasing edge sharpening into something more deliberate. "She's pretty. Bet she'd look even better if she had a real reason to dress up for once."

"You think so?" I aimed for casual. It came out rougher than I wanted, edged with something I couldn't quite bury, something that felt dangerously close to hope. I hated how transparent that single question made me, how quickly it undid weeks of careful indifference.

"Yeah, I do." Richard rubbed his chin like he was working something out, though I got the distinct feeling the whole thing had been plotted days ago, every word rehearsed for exactly this reaction. His eyes held that familiar glint, the one that meant he'd already mapped three steps ahead while I was still catching up to the first. "Bet she just needs an excuse to get dolled up. Happens I could give her one. With your permission, of course, Alpha."

My mouth went dry. That dress. The one I'd had the Gamma's daughter deliver weeks back, the one I'd spent an embarrassing amount of time choosing, picturing the color against her skin before talking myself into believing the whole gesture was stupid. I'd stood in that shop longer than any Alpha had business standing anywhere, turning fabric over in my hands like it might tell me something about what I actually wanted. The shopkeeper had given me a strange look when I asked her to describe the exact shade three different times, and still, I hadn't been able to explain why it mattered so much.

She's probably never even put it on. Didn't want to risk ruining it. Never had a reason to wear it anyway. The thought left a hollow ache behind my ribs, one I had no interest in poking at tonight, though it lodged there anyway, stubborn and quiet. I wondered, not for the first time, if she even remembered where the dress came from, or if she'd simply folded it away and forgotten it existed, the same way she seemed determined to forget I existed outside of duty and rank.

The need to see her in it won out over good sense fast, burning off whatever caution I had left. It always did, when it came to her. "Tell me your plan. If I like it, I'll sign off."

"Yes, Alpha." Richard's smile spread slow and satisfied, a wolf that had just caught the scent of something worth chasing down, already certain of where the hunt would end. He leaned back, entirely too pleased with himself, like he'd just won a bet I hadn't known we were making.