The Luna's Secret Santa

Willa sat in her apartment, winding down after another day slogging through her degree program. She was studying the history of pagan religions, somewhat to come to grips with her own family’s origins. Willa Vale came from a long line of witches. Her bloodline was strong, and she had inherited the power of that bloodline. Exactly why she was hiding from the coven now.The Greystone coven wanted her. Her power. Not her. Every night, she performed her wards, careful to keep them just strong enough to remain undetected but potent enough to hide her location. A delicate balance that left her mentally exhausted. The ritual was simple: sea salt in the corners, lavender oil on the windowsills, and a whispered incantation passed down through generations of Vale women. Nothing flashy. Nothing that would send a magical flare into the ether for others to track. Tonight, she finished her usual protection circuit and collapsed onto her threadbare couch, running her fingers through her auburn curls. The apartment was tiny—a studio with barely enough room for her bed, desk, and the small altar she kept hidden in her closet. But it was hers, and more importantly, it was unknown to the coven. Her phone buzzed. A text from her academic advisor about her thesis proposal. Another deadline looming. Willa sighed and set the phone face-down without responding. Academia could wait until morning. She leaned back against the couch cushions and closed her eyes, feeling that familiar phantom tug beneath her skin—the magic wanting to be used, to flow freely rather than being constantly damped down to near-invisibility. "Not tonight," she whispered to herself, pressing her palm against her sternum where the sensation always began. "Not ever, if I can help it." The coven had plans for her, for the raw power that ran through her veins. They already had her married off to a prominent warlock, 20 years her elder. He was an elder of the coven, a prominent voice of the anti-unification sect. A sect she was not sure she wanted to be a part of. Her ancestors harkened back to a time of peace, a time when the witches and wolves worked together. A society utilizing the strength of both to make a powerful whole. Not so now. The coven wanted to rule the city of Greystone alone. A sudden surge of power rippled through her body, hot and unexpected as a flash of arousal. Willa gasped, her back arching slightly as the sensation washed over her. This wasn't her magic trying to break free—this was something else entirely. Something above her. She tilted her head toward the ceiling, her senses instantly alert. The protective wards she'd placed hadn't been breached, but something—or someone—was definitely there, their power bleeding through the thin barrier between floors like heat through cheap insulation. Willa stood, her legs unsteady beneath her. The magic pulsed again, stronger this time, causing goosebumps to rise along her arms. Whatever was up there had serious power, the kind that couldn't be easily contained. "s**t," she whispered, moving to the window. Maybe she could slip out, disappear into the night until she figured out where she fit into this, until she had a better idea of the forces moving around her. The window slid open with a screech, making Willa wince. So much for a stealthy exit. She glanced up at the ceiling again, half expecting to see the plaster crack from the magical pressure building above her. Heart racing, she grabbed her emergency go-bag from under the bed—a small backpack containing cash, a change of clothes, and a few family heirlooms too precious to leave behind. The energy above seemed to pulse in time with her own heartbeat now, as though their magics were reaching for each other through the barrier of wood and plaster. Willa froze when her phone buzzed again. Not her advisor this time. Unknown number. We know where you are. Stay put. The coven. It had to be. But how had they found her? She'd been so careful with her wards, keeping her magic subdued to the point of aching. She had been taught well, her wards were strong. It would have to be a witch close by to be able to break through her barriers. But if it wasn’t the coven, who could it be? Her fingers tightened around the phone as she considered her options. The power from above pulsed again, stronger this time, sending a warm current down her spine that made her breath catch. Whatever—whoever—was up there, they weren't being subtle anymore. The magic felt different from the coven's energy. Their power always carried a sharp, clinical edge, like antiseptic on an open wound. This felt... wild. Primal. Almost lunar in its pull. Willa glanced at the full moon visible through her window. Luna-aligned magic. It couldn't be a coincidence. She was coming to the conclusion there was a wolf nearby. A choice then. Stay, seek out the wolf to flush him or her out. Figure out what they were doing in her little apartment complex. Not a coincedence, then what? Why was she sensing wolf? Or she could flee, disappear into the night and hide her power even deeper. The text message glared up at her from her phone screen. Stay put. As if she'd willingly walk into their trap. The ceiling creaked above her. Footsteps. Heavy ones. Definitely not her elderly neighbor Mrs. Patel, who weighed about ninety pounds soaking wet and moved like a ghost. Willa's heart hammered against her ribs. She needed to make a decision. Now. The wolf magic pulsed again, stronger this time, like a heartbeat synchronizing with her own. It felt almost... protective? No, that couldn't be right. Wolves and witches had been at odds for decades, especially in Greystone. She tucked her phone into her pocket and moved toward the door, emergency bag slung over her shoulder. Her fingers closed around the doorknob when she felt another pulse. This, however, was not in her spine. This pulse forced her back to the couch. She threw her to-go bag to the floor. She was barely in control of her movements at this point. She flung herself down on the couch. She felt the pulse again, felt it deep in her belly, felt it travel to her core. She grew hot. She felt her pulse quicken. Almost without a thought she undid the button and the zipper of her jeans. She wiggled her pants down off of her waist. Another pulse. She gasped. It was overwhelming her conscious thought. She reached her hand down and cupped her mound, her panties already wet. She couldn't stop herself. The magic was too strong, overwhelming her senses, her will. It was as if someone else had control of her limbs, her desires. Her fingers traced along the edge of her panties, teasing the sensitive skin beneath. "What the hell?" she gasped, trying to pull her hand away, but the lunar magic surged again, stronger this time. It wasn't just coming from above anymore—it was inside her now, coiling through her veins like liquid silver. A low growl rumbled through the ceiling, so deep she felt it more than heard it. The sound vibrated through her body, settling between her legs and intensifying the throbbing there. Willa bit her lip, fighting against the foreign magic with every ounce of her training. This was wrong. Invasive. And yet... something about it felt strangely familiar, like a half-forgotten dream. Her finger slid inside her self, finding the pulsing nexus of pleasure. Her head arched back as, almost without thought, she began stroking back and forth. She was answering a question that came from above, that she didn’t know who was asking, but that she wanted to answer desperately. Willa gave in to the urge, the desire, stroking herself to answer to pulse. She climbed the wave, cresting, vocalizing her climax. “What? Who are you!” She took herself over the edge, spasming, not remembering pleasure like this could be. “Oh…” And, sleep.