Mated to you

Chapter 2 - Feels like change

It had been almost a month since Cael and River had unravelled the world she’d unknowingly stepped into. Well… at least the parts they believed she could handle. The bond. The hierarchy. The gravity of what it meant to be Luna.

Was she ready for that kind of commitment?

The responsibility, it was a weight she wasn’t sure she could carry, and up until recently, she hadn’t understood that being Luna wasn’t just a title. It was an honour, an honour she wasn’t sure she deserved, not after choosing death over their Alpha. That choice still echoed through her painfully.

She sighed, fingers curling into the fabric of her sleeve. What could she, a human, even offer?

And yet, she genuinely found herself caring deeply for the pack members she had come to know. They weren’t just names or roles anymore, they were family, and the thought of ever seeing them as anything less… it stung. She waited for Reign to return, quietly, without saying it aloud. She never admitted how much she wanted to see him. To speak with him. To tell him everything she’d learnt, and to ask the questions that clawed at her in the quiet.

Sometimes, the opportunity to ask about him would surface. But she never took it. Shame held her tongue. Guilt curled in her chest. She wished she’d given him the chance she gave them. Instead of recoiling from what she didn’t understand. How could she ask for him now? And what she deeply wanted to know, was, where was he and why did he need to stay away from her for so long.

She sank into the office chair stationed by the window in Reign’s room, a room no longer dark, but still steeped in loneliness. She told herself it was just the view. That the quiet helped her think. That she wasn’t hoping to turn and see him standing there.

But that was a lie.

She needed distraction, and for that, she was thankful for Cael’s daily training. But today, her mind was a foggy mess. Her body moved, but her thoughts dragged behind.

Gravel bit into her spine as Cael knocked her to the ground.

“Where’s your mind at today?” he asked, offering a hand.

Thea pushed it aside, wincing as she forced herself upright. “It’s nowhere,” she lied, brushing dirt from her palms.

She’d been training with Cael for two weeks now, learning how to defend, how to strike, how to survive. At first, she thought it would get easier. That her body would adapt. That her instincts would sharpen. But each day felt heavier than the last. Her movements slower. Her focus thinner.

Cael didn’t say it outright, but she saw it in the way he watched her, curious, concerned. He thought her mind was elsewhere.

He wasn’t wrong.

But she wouldn’t admit where it truly was.

Not to him. Not to anyone.

Because it wasn’t the bruises or the exhaustion that made her falter. It was the silence. The absence. The ache she refused to say aloud.

Reign.

Even now, as she squared off against Cael again, fists raised, stance uneven, her thoughts drifted to the broken look Reign gave her when she recoiled from him. When he revealed what he was. Who he was, and she chose to run, to die.

She blinked hard, forcing herself back into the moment. Cael lunged, and she barely dodged in time.

“Your footing’s off,” he said, circling her. “You’re not breathing right.”

“I’m fine,” she snapped, too quickly.

He didn’t push. Just nodded and gestured for her to reset.

She did, mechanically, her body moved, but her mind remained elsewhere.

Across the field, a few pack members shifted mid-sprint, their forms rippling into wolves with practiced ease. She no longer feared them. Their transformations had become her new normal. The sound of bones reshaping, the flash of fur, it no longer startled her. It grounded her. She still hadn’t met the whole pack yet, apparently it was too large and not the time, and River suggested it would be better to do so with Reign.

Cael watched her for a moment longer, then called the session.

She didn’t protest. Just turned and walked off, shoulders stiff, boots crunching over gravel.

Behind her, the wind stirred the trees. Pine and earth and something older drifted on the breeze.

She didn’t look back.

But she felt it.

A pull, and an ache.

“How are you holding up?” River asked, settling beside her at the dining table.

Thea didn’t look up. “Been better,” she replied, scooping food onto her plate with practiced speed. She’d learned quickly, move fast, and the pack can eat.

River didn’t press. She simply reached for the bread, her movements calm, deliberate. Thea could feel her watching, though. Not with judgment, but with something quieter. Something that felt like understanding.

“He’s home,” River said, voice low, almost lost beneath the clatter of cutlery and murmured conversation.

Thea froze. Her hand hovered over the serving spoon; breath caught in her throat. For a moment, everything around her dulled, the voices, the scraping of chairs, the scent of roasted meat and pine smoke. It was like her heart had forgotten how to beat.

“It’s been so long, but I’m glad to hear he’s back,” she said finally, forcing her voice into something neutral.

River didn’t answer. She simply nodded her head.

Thea’s plate was full, but her appetite gone. Inside, she was a mess. A good mess. A hopeful mess. She wanted to see him. She wanted to hear his voice, to know he was okay. But would he want to see her?

She would leave it to him. If he wanted to speak, he would. If he didn’t… well, that’s something she would need to respect.

Thea pushed food around her plate, barely tasting it. Around her, the pack ate and laughed and passed dishes down the line. She tried to join in, tried to smile when someone cracked a joke, but her mind was elsewhere caught in the memory of amber eyes and the pain she saw in them when she pulled away.

She hadn’t meant to hurt him. She just needed time to understand.

River nudged her gently. “He asked about you.”

Thea’s head snapped up. “What?”

River gave a small smile, eyes steady. “Just thought you should know.”

Thea didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Her throat tightened, and she blinked hard, staring down at her untouched food.

She didn’t know what that meant. Didn’t know if it was hope or punishment.

But she felt it.

And it was enough to make her heart start beating again.