Freya’s POV
:
I jolted when the thought struck me.
“Tell me, Lana… do you think Aurora smokes?<b>” </b>
Lana blinked, clearly startled. “What? Why would you suddenly ask me that?”
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My wolf stirred uneasily, hackles rising. “I can’t shake the feeling that the border fire wasn’t just her standing by and doing nothing.”
At my words, Lana’s eyes sharpened. She froze for a breath before muttering, “That’s something we’ll have to dig into. But no… I’ve never actually seen Aurora with a cigarette.”
Neither had I. But absence of proof wasn’t proof of innocence. My gut told me she hid more than anyone realized. And my instincts–born of Stormveil blood, sharpened under the legacy of the Bloodmoon Pack–had rarely been wrong.
Yes. This was a trail worth following.
“Anyway,” Lana broke in, brushing her hair back with an impatient flick, “are you free tonight?”
“Depends,” I said lightly. “Free enough.”
Her eyes narrowed. “So you had ns, didn’t you?”
“Not exactly. I was supposed to have dinner with Ss,” I admitted, my chest tightening with something I refused to name. “But it’s fine. I’ll call and let him know.”
Lana snorted, lips curling into a wicked grin. “Careful how that sounds. Anyone overhearing would think you and Ss are already mated and settled. You sound just like a bonded pair.”
Her teasing struck closer to the bone than I wanted. Because she was right.
These days, when I returned home from the offices or Stormveil briefings, I often found myself at the market, picking up vegetables and meat, bringing them back to cook. Ss still insisted on helping in the kitchen, despite the bandage that wound around his burned hand. He didn’t know how to sit still–his Alpha presence demanded participation, even in the smallest domestic rituals.
We’d eat together. Then he would clean, stacking dishes into the wash basin before letting the machine finish the work. Sometimes we sat in the den, watching news reports or dramas, or
<b>10:15 </b><b>Tue</b><b>, </b><b>Sep 16 </b>
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66
<b>+5 </b>Free Coins
talking through books. <b>Ss </b>had a breadth of knowledge that surprised me constantly, and our conversations<b>–</b>spirited, sometimes sharp–always left me burning inside.
On the nights when duties pulled me to paperwork, he set up his own work at the opposite desk. The study had grown into a space built for two, as though the house itself recognized the bond we hadn’t spoken aloud.
It <b>was</b><b>… </bfortable. Toofortable.
And that unsettled me more than I dared confess.
Lana’s sly voice cut through my thoughts. “Tell me the truth, Freya. Have you and Ss… you know.” She waggled her brows.
I rolled my eyes. “No, we haven’t. Could you please keep your thoughts at least somewhat clean?<b>” </b>
Her gasp was theatrical. “You mean to tell me you’ve got a male like that–broad–shouldered, battle–tempered, Alpha–blooded–and you’re only looking? Not touching? Freya, that’s a crime against womankind!”
I gave her a withering look. “Only you could twist ‘restraint‘ into ‘losing out.”
Sheughed, unashamed, and pped me on the shoulder. “Fine. If you won’t act on your instincts, then tonight I’ll broaden your horizons. You’re going to see what foreign wolves call entertainment.”
That evening, I let Lana drag me through the bright–lit streets of the Capital, until we stopped at the massive stone–and–ss archway of the Grand Theater. The scent of hundreds of wolves pressed together in anticipation filled my nose–pheromones buzzing,ughter ringing.
Inside, the stage burst alive with pounding music. A troupe of foreign males danced beneath a storm of water cascading from the rafters. They were bare–chested, d only in tight ck leather pants, muscles gleaming as the falling water beaded and streamed down their bodies.
The crowd roared. She–wolves screamed. Some practically wed the air as if they could drag the dancers into their arms.
Beside me, Lana shrieked louder than most, her enthusiasm shameless. “Look at him, Freya! Those abs–by the Moon, that body could kill!”
I shook my head, but couldn’t deny the artistry. The dance was rhythmic, primal, almost a battle disy, wolves moving like predators under rain. It stirred the audience, though it stirred nothing in me.
<b>10:15 </b><b>Tue</b>, <b>Sep </b><b>16 </b>
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Because the truth was, only one male could make my heart pound like that. Only one face haunted me even now–Ss, his storm–grey eyes burning like iron in firelight.
The thought of him sent a shiver through me.
My WolfComm buzzed, interrupting my thoughts. The caller ID glowed with his name.
I pressed it to my ear. “Ss?<b>” </b>
The growl of his voice vibrated down the line. “Where are you? What’s all that noise<b>?</b>”
Before I could answer, Lana leaned close, practically shouting into my ear. “Freya, look at that one–he’s going to pull a lucky she–wolf from the audience! Imagine being that close!”
I winced and held up a hand to silence her.
“Freya.” Ss’s voice was steel. “Tell me where you are.”
“I’m with Lana. Watching a performance. It’ll be done around ten. I’lle back on my own.”
“No,” he cut me off tly. “I’lle for you.”
“Ss, that’s not necess-”
The line went dead.
Lana’s eyes gleamed when I lowered the WolfComm. “That was him, wasn’t it? Ss?”
“Yes,” I admitted.
“And he’sing to pick you up?” She let out a low whistle. “Sweet. Sounds a lot like a bonded pair to me.”
I flushed but said nothing.
The performance continued, the rainstorm intensifying, the crowd reaching fever pitch. Wolves howled their excitement, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder. The air reeked of sweat, pheromones, and wild hunger.
And then–darkness.
The entire theater plunged into ck. The music cut off. The water stopped midstream, droplets falling like blood in silence, Gasps, then nervousughter, rippled through the
audience.