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31: Kiss

作者: Rei
last update 公開日: 2026-03-20 00:31:50

  Summer settles over the pack lands like a held breath.

  

  The air is thick, heavy with warmth and something else—something restless. Cicadas hum endlessly in the trees, their noise drilling into my skull as if they’re trying to shake something loose inside me. I wake every morning already tense, already aware of my body in ways I never used to be. Stronger. Faster. Sharper.

  

  And angry.

  

  Not the e
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  • Underneath The Moonlight    45: After the Storm

    I wake to a heaviness pressing against my chest. Pain. Exhaustion. Something else. Something unnameable. My fingers twitch, brushing against the sheets, and I realize my chest still aches where the wolf saved me—where I saved myself—and my breaths are shallow, uneven. The voice in my head is quiet, but present, pulsing almost like it’s keeping time with my heartbeat. Blinking against the sunlight streaming in from the small window, I take in the room. Asher is there, leaning against the edge of the bed. He looks… vulnerable. His normally calm, commanding presence is softened by fatigue and faint bruises along his jaw and collarbone. A pang twists in my chest. Relief, yes. And something else I don’t name. Lucien is standing at the doorway, posture taut and watchful. His eyes flick to me, then back to Asher, then to the hall outside. He looks relieved,

  • Underneath The Moonlight    44: Blood and Moonlight

    The forest is alive with sounds I’ve never noticed before—the rustle of leaves, the snap of twigs under weight, the low growl that vibrates through the air. My chest tightens, and I glance at Asher. His eyes are sharp, scanning every shadow, every movement, while my mother grips a branch like a weapon, though I know she’s struggling. “They’re close,” Asher mutters, voice low, calm, but I hear the edge of warning in it. “Stay together. Don’t split up.” I nod, though I feel a rising panic beneath my ribs. This is different. This isn’t training. This isn’t sparring. This is survival. A low snarl comes from the trees ahead. I freeze. The rival pack. The ones who tried to take me before. Their silhouettes slip between the trunks, sleek, predatory, coordinated. My stomach twists. I recognize t

  • Underneath The Moonlight    43: Unbound Choices

    The forest doesn’t feel like shelter. It feels like a holding breath. The trees press close, branches tangling overhead, leaves whispering with every shift of air. We stop in a shallow ravine where the ground dips just enough to hide us from sight, where stone juts out like broken ribs and moss softens the earth beneath our boots. No walls. No doors. Just shadows and instinct. Asher positions himself immediately—half a step in front of me, angled outward. Protective. Automatic. Like his body decides before he does. My mother stays a few paces away, arms folded tight across her chest, eyes scanning the woods with sharp, restless focus. She looks smaller than I remember. Harder. Like survival carved her down to essentials. No one speaks. The silence stretches, taut as wire. I feel it then—the way everything has subtly rearranged itself around me. The way the air waits. The way my heartbeat doesn’t race, but steadies. Anchors. The voice inside me hums, low and attentive

  • Underneath The Moonlight    42: A Mother, Unfamiliar

    We move through the trees without speaking. Not because there’s nothing left to say—but because everything we haven’t said feels heavier than words. The forest presses in around us, dense and green, summer thick in the air. Leaves brush my arms as I follow Asher’s lead, my steps quieter now, more deliberate. I listen to the rhythm of the woods, the subtle shifts in sound and scent that no longer blur together the way they used to. I don’t ask where we’re going. I already know. Not the exact location—but the direction. Toward answers. Toward the thing that’s been tugging at me since I overheard the pack meetings, since I realized everyone around me knows more about my life than I do. Asher glances back once, just long enough to confirm I’m still there. His jaw is tight. His shoulders are rigid in a way that tells me he’s holding himself together through sheer force of will. He’s not angry anymore. He’s afraid. That realization settles uneasily in my chest. “You’re w

  • Underneath The Moonlight    41: What The Blood Doesn’t Say

    Dawn creeps in like it doesn’t want to be noticed. Gray light bleeds through the broken windows of my house, settling over overturned furniture and dark stains on the floor. The place smells wrong—metallic, sharp, old fear layered over newer panic. I stand in the middle of my living room, arms wrapped around myself, staring at the dried smear near the door. Blood. My chest tightens, then loosens again, like my body can’t decide whether to panic or go numb. Asher crouches near the stain, fingers hovering just above it. He doesn’t touch it. He doesn’t need to. His eyes track patterns I can’t see—direction, force, intent. “Say it,” I whisper. “Just say it.” He looks up slowly, and the tension in his face makes my stomach drop. “This isn’t fatal,” he says. “Not even close.” Relief slams into me so hard my knees almost buckle. I inhale sharply, air burning my lungs. “She’s alive,” I say, more to myself than him. “Yes.” I swallow, forcing myself to stay standing. “Th

  • Underneath The Moonlight    40: When The Past Still Breathes

    The forest is different at night. I don’t mean darker. I mean aware. Every step Asher takes is deliberate, silent in a way that feels impossible for someone his size. He moves like the trees part for him out of respect, not because he forces them to. I struggle to match his pace, my boots brushing leaves I swear weren’t there a second ago. “Slow,” he murmurs without turning. “And stay where I can see you.” I bristle instinctively. “I’m not—” He stops so abruptly I almost collide with his back. When he turns, his expression wipes the protest straight out of my throat. This isn’t the Asher who stands tall and composed in the pack house. This is something stripped raw—eyes sharp, jaw tight, tension coiled beneath his skin like a loaded weapon. “This isn’t the place to argue,” he says quietly. “Not here.” I swallow and nod. He turns again, and we keep moving. The deeper we go, the more the forest presses in. Branches arch overhead, blocking moonlight, forcing shadows

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