Suddenly His Luna

Meeting Her Mate

Vivien

It’s almost nightfall and I need to stop being a coward.

Although, in this current situation, my cowardice is the only thing keeping my alive. We’ve survived through most of the chaos, but none of the werewolves remaining in Texas are willing to risk being out in public.

No one wants to be caught in the crossfires.

Just not too long ago, we all believed we’d seen the worst of the war, and that slowly but surely, it was finally coming to an end. We let our guards down, and it was a mistake. Because not long after the chaos had waned, another group of wolves were attacked by the humans. There were no survivors.

It was a rude awakening.

And now, we’re tip-toeing the country, trying our best to make ourselves as scarce as possible. Although things are a lot less heated outside, we’re not in the clear yet. Anything could happen at any given moment.

My hand rests on the doorknob, and I let out a frustrated breath. There are items I need to collect, sitting around waiting for the coast to clear up isn’t a viable option.

If I’m being honest with myself, I might not get a better opportunity today. Once the sun sets, things will just get that much harder. The streets were barren last I checked, so I’m well aware there’s no better time than the present.

But still, self preservation is a b***h.

I’ll just have to be in and out. Get what I need from the land and be back before sun down.

I keep a low profile as I exit my workshop, careful not to be spotted by anyone. I’m fast on my feet, grateful for the short distance to where I’m headed.

It doesn’t take long, and once I reach the clearing, I cast a veil, concealing my presence from any lingering eyes. Right now, I need to focus. Darting my eyes left and right to make sure I’m not being seen would only distract me and prolong my stay here.

I get to work.

The vast area isn’t claimed by anyone, the clearing doesn’t have an owner. And I’m entirely grateful. To anyone else, it’s but a bare piece of land. But to a Witch?

It’s a gold mine.

It’s a tad difficult to understand why such a large empty space remains unused. It could be converted to literally anything, humans were creative creatures.

Regardless, there’s a potion I need to make tonight. I crouch down to the ground, digging my fingers through the soil. Rummaging, that’s what I call it. The only thing better than seeing the results of my experiments is finding the right ingredients.

I’m lost in the activity, filling my satchel with everything I need, even a little bit of this and that so I don’t have to come out again too soon, I’m almost fully prepped for the night. My ears perk up, a faint thumping sound drawing my attention.

I don’t look away from my work, keeping my gaze downcast. I’m not worried about being seen, given the veil, but just in case, I keep a listening ear.

The sound grows louder, closer. I feel the vibrations on the ground beneath me.

Running.

The footsteps pound through the ground, fast, hard, desperate. From the ferocity of it, I know it’s not human. My head darts in the direction its coming from, just a second before a large black wolf comes into view.

A loud gasp escapes me.

It’s.. huge.

I’ve never seen one so big in my entire life. The force of four menacing paws barreling through the solid ground makes such a chaotic sound.

The large animal is focused, charging through the clearing with lightning speed. It’s like a flash of black, moving in a blurry line so quick I can’t fully make out its form. My brows furrow.

Where’s a werewolf running to out in the open? At such a time, without regard for the current situation going on in town.

It doesn’t pay me even the slightest attention. Which is understandable to an extent, because of the veil. But a werewolf should be able to sense my presence, especially one of this caliber.

From the size of it, and the fact that it can move so fast, there’s no way it’s just an ordinary wolf. It has to have Alpha blood.

My heart clenches. That could prove dangerous, regardless of if it’s currently ignoring me.

It’s gaze is focused solely ahead. It turns, for a brief second, darting a glance behind its shoulder before looking straight forward once again.

And then it hits me. It’s running from something.

I barely have time to register that fact when a thick silver arrow cuts through the air in a flash, burrowing into the side of the charging wolf.

I stifle a scream, looking above for the attacker. I dart my gaze left and right above me, but there’s no one in sight. I can’t see who it is, and I remind myself that the person can’t see me either.

My gaze cuts back to the now incapacitated wolf. It’s only a few feet away from where I’m standing, laying on its side, unmoving.

I hesitate. Part of me wants to go to the injured wolf, my curiosity itching to know if it’s even alive. It was a perfect shot, and even from this distance, the blood pooling underneath it’s slumped form isn’t hard to miss.

But I know better, than to actively look for trouble where there isn’t any. The gears in my brain turn, my eyes focused in its direction. And then its tail flaps once, the slightest of movements, and I’m charging towards it.

Even laying on its side, its horizontal form reaches my hips. I’ve never, ever, seen one so big. It’s a textured silver arrow, lodged deep in its ribs. Tentatively, I move closer, hearing the soft wheezing sounds.

It must have punctured a lung.

Once I’m just inches away from it, my jaw slackens.

It’s utterly beautiful.

Not a single stray streak of color on its otherwise uniform coat. Midnight black fur covers every inch of it, the fine hairs so sleek and dark, it seems to almost have a blue tint. My heat tilts, as I round its figure slowly. It lays still, barely breathing at this point.

Its eyes are closed shut, its muzzle still. Up close, I can tell it’s a male.

I purse my lips, stepping forward. My hand ghosts over the side of its belly, inches away from where the blood cakes the fur surrounding the arrow wound. I could pull it out, but that might possibly just cause more damage.

I should leave. This isn’t my mess, therefore this isn’t my problem.

But I want to touch it, for some reason, to feel it’s fur under my skin. Is it as soft as it looks?

I brush a gentle palm over his underbelly, and then pull my hand away instantly, jumping back.

My eyes widen into saucers. Pinpricks of feeling tingling the skin of my palm.

What?

A weird, but familiar sensation rises in me. Like something forming in my subconscious.

I know this feeling all too well.

Could it be?

I’ve been disconnected from my wolf for the longest time, but I’ve never forgotten what her presence felt like. And now, I feel it, resurfacing, growing. It threatens to overwhelm me.

And then,

Mate.

Mate.

I let out a loud gasp, my eyes darting back to the injured werewolf.

How on earth?

But there’s no denying it, the way my body fills with a languid heat, the presence of my wolf chanting, reciting the words over and over.

I shake my head, as if to clear it, like I’m in some sort of dream.

There’s no way.

But I feel it burst within me, my wolf’s presence, fully intact, scarily overjoyed.

Mate. Mate. Mate.