Kaya
It’s already been several weeks since I joined Blood Moon and began my training.Everything is going according to Magnus’s carefully crafted schedule: Sam and Oliver take turns overseeing my strength and endurance training during the day, while the Alpha himself handles our evening "fighting" sessions.
And I’m making good progress—at least, that’s what Oliver says.But honestly? I think so too.
I can feel the difference. My endurance has grown; I can run longer, lift heavier, and I no longer wake up the next morning feeling like my body’s been trampled by a herd of buffalo. My muscles ache, sure—but it’s the satisfying kind of pain, the one that tells I’m getting stronger.
My sessions with Magnus, though...Well, they’re not as regular. He’s a busy man, after all.But truthfully? It’s not the inconsistency that bothers .
It’s him.
He bothers . Far more than I’d like to admit.
Ever since that night—when he pinned , when he whispered things about my scent while I lay breathless and dazed on top of him—I haven’t been able to shake the image from my mind.I’ve never heard anyone describe like that before.And I won’t lie—hearing it made feel absolutely fucking glorious.
But that’s not the worst part.
The worst part is how I’ve beco so acutely, frustratingly aware of his scent.
No matter where I go or what I do, it lingers—like a ghost. Like heat burned into my skin. It wraps around , clings to , settles under my senses and won’t let go.
I swear, if I weren’t so hopelessly distracted by Magnus during our "fighting" sessions, I’d probably be twice as good by now.
***
"Kaya, over here!"I hear Samantha call out as I step outside the library, yet another book clutched to my chest.
Lately, I’ve been devouring everything I can get my hands on. I’ve always loved reading, but truthfully, I never had access to more than a handful of books in my entire life.
Back in Mistfall, ogas like weren’t given the luxury of free ti.Whatever slivers of ti I did manage to steal for myself were usually spent sneaking off for a swim—or rereading the sa old fairytale book I once found buried in a dusty storage room. I read it so many tis I could recite it from mory, cover to cover.
With Damien, I technically had more freedom. But the irony wasn’t lost on —I had the ti, sure. Just not the desire.
Now, though... I want to catch up on everything I missed. And with a library as incredible as the one here, how could I not?
"What a bookworm," Sam teases, narrowing her eyes as she tries to read the title of the novel in my hands. "And what is this? Another romance?"
Her lips curve into a sly smile, and I swear I can feel the heat rushing to my cheeks. I’m not ashad of my reading choices—really, I’m not—but Sam has a gift for spotlighting things in exactly the way that makes feel exposed.
"Don’t judge," I mutter, faking a pout. "It’s no different than you binge-watching all those cheesy romance dramas on TV. At least mine aren’t as cringe."
"Ugh." Sam waves off with an exaggerated sigh. "Excuse for not having the ti to read aningful literature. After patrolling shifts, my brain needs sothing dumb and easy to digest."
"And drink," I add, nodding toward the bottle of wine tucked beneath her arm.
"Oh—yeah." Sam grins and pulls it out, flashing the label at . "It’s my turn to hide it, rember? I’ve been gaslighting Oliver into thinking he just can’t find it. But honestly?" She laughs. "I totally forgot to hide it in the first place!"
She bursts into a short fit of laughter, and I can’t help but join in.This duo—Sam and Oliver—they’re sothing else.
"Co on," she says, waving for to follow as she sets off. "I’ve got a great hiding spot for this one. So good, I’m honestly scared I’ll forget where I put it and won’t get to taste his wine again for weeks."
"Sam," I begin cautiously as we cross the training grounds, "has Oliver... t his mate yet?"
She falters mid-step. Just a beat. Barely noticeable.But thanks to all the training I’ve been doing with Magnus, I catch it.Maybe I wasn’t as subtle as I thought.
"He has," Samantha replies at last, her voice a bit softer now. And just like that, sothing heavy sinks in the pit of my stomach.
"It was an oga girl from his forr pack," she continues as we weave around the back of the storage building. "They t during the Lunar Gala—he was there because his sister was hoping to find her mate, too. He rejected the girl on the spot."
"Was it because of Blood Moon? His job?"
"That’s what he says." She shrugs, casual but not entirely convinced. "But with that guy? Who knows. I think he just... doesn’t really care about that stuff."
I catch a subtle note of sadness in her voice—and maybe, just maybe, I understand what’s behind it.
"What about you?" I ask gently. "Do you have a mate?"
"No." She shakes her head and offers a hand, helping climb the ladder leaning against the wall. "It used to bother ... but not anymore. Like I told you before—this is a pack of warriors. We can’t afford weaknesses. Even if that weakness is fate."
Her words sting more than I expect. Especially because I know Samantha isn’t the type to scoff at love. All those "cringe" romance dramas she watches? They aren’t just idle entertainnt. They’re the echoes of sothing she longs for, but can’t reach.It breaks my heart more than I care to admit.
Before I can say anything in response, the distant roar of engines pulls back to the present.Several cars are approaching the gates of the pack house.Samantha hears them too. Her head snaps toward the sound, eyes narrowing like she’s trying to see through the steel and tinted windows.
"Are we expecting guests?" I ask, following her line of sight.
She nods, but her gaze stays locked on the approaching vehicles. Her expression suddenly darkens.
"Yeah, apparently."
There’s sothing in her voice—tense and displeased—that makes my curiosity spark like a live wire.
"Who are they?"
"Cecilia Mays," Sam says flatly. "Alpha Magnus’s Luna candidate."
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