The party
1029 Words
After the run, the crowd migrated back to the pack house for the celebration—a tradition that followed every first shift. Music pulsed from the open windows, and the scent of roasted meat and honey-sweet cider hung heavy in the summer air.
I stepped inside beside Maria, still humming from the run. The warmth of the pack house wrapped around me like a living thing. Lights sparkled like stars strung from the beams, and laughter echoed across the wooden floors polished to a soft golden sheen. A priestess moved among the new shifters, blessing each of us with a pressed palm and whispered words.
And then I saw her.
The Luna.
She stood near the center of the gathering, golden eyes fixed on me. I froze under the intensity of her gaze. For years, she had looked through me like I was smoke. But now... her eyes gleamed with interest. Something sharper.
"Your wolf is extraordinary," she said, stepping closer. Her voice was velvet over ice. "Silvery fur, eyes like citrine. I’ve never seen a shift like that. I’ll be conducting research into your lineage. There may be... something forgotten in your blood."
Around us, murmurs rippled. Whispers spread like wildfire through the crowd—curious, awed, wary. Some wolves stared with open admiration. Others with suspicion or envy. The Luna had never spared me a single kind word, not even a nod. And now this?
Dorian, the Beta's second son, lounged near the drink table, watching. His usual smirk faded into something more serious. He didn’t speak—but his eyes never left me.
Something clenched in my chest.
Why now?
Maria moved to my side, placing a protective hand on my shoulder. She offered the Luna a polite smile, but her eyes were wary. "Thank you, Luna. Seryna remains under my care. I’ll be conducting the research myself."
The Luna’s eyes lingered. Measuring. Calculating.
And then I felt it.
A burning stare.
I turned, and there he was. Ezekial Thorne. His gaze drilled into me from across the room. Hatred, longing, fury. All tangled into something poisonous.
His fists were clenched. His aura was smoldering. The rejection had cost him more than pride.
Maria leaned close. "Stay away from him tonight. He’s unbalanced. Dangerous."
I nodded.
From the edge of the crowd, a familiar silhouette swayed in the shadows. My mother. Drunk. Watching. Her gaze full of spite and bitter disbelief. She took a long pull from a flask, her expression twisting. She looked at me like I was something she’d left to rot, now blooming without her.
She hated that.
I turned away.
Later, I slipped down a quiet hallway in search of the bathroom. The sound of the celebration dulled as I moved, replaced by the soft creak of floorboards and distant clinks of glasses.
A hand shot out and yanked me back. I slammed against the wall, breath knocked from my lungs. Pain bloomed where my shoulder struck the wood.
Ezekial.
His scent hit me—spiced pine and something rotten. His fingers bit into my arm.
"You think you’re above me now?" he snarled. His breath was hot and sour against my face. "Strutting around like you're untouchable? Do you know what you did to me? My wolf won't even speak to me!"
The pressure on my arm intensified, making my skin scream. My heart thudded against my ribs, not in fear—but in rising fury.
He pressed closer.
"You need to be reminded where you belong. Beneath me. Always beneath me."
His hand reached down.
Instinct surged.
My knee shot up, hard and fast. The satisfying thud of impact was followed by a gasp. He doubled over, gagging.
I didn’t wait.
"Touch me again," I hissed, eyes glowing, voice low and wild, "and I’ll break more than your pride."
I ran. My pulse roared in my ears.
"Rose?"
"I’m here," she soothed.
I slipped back into the crowd. Music played. People danced. But it all felt muffled, distant.
Why does his touch burn? I asked.
"Because he rejected us, and we accepted it," Rose replied. "Now he can’t touch us without pain. But since he enacted the rejection, your touch burns like silver on his soul. It’s the Moon Goddess’s punishment."
My breath caught.
Divine justice.
Minutes later, Maria found me in the corner. Her eyes caught the bruise on my arm.
What happened? she asked through the mind-link.
Ezekial.
Her expression hardened. She didn’t hesitate. She marched into the center of the room and raised her voice.
"Ezekial Thorne."
The music died. Conversations stopped. Heads turned.
He froze.
"It wasn't enough for you to reject Seryna today, you had to go and lay hands on Seryna. Forcefully."
Gasps. Shock. A ripple of disbelief.
Lucien, the Beta, stepped forward. His voice was steel. "Apologize. Now. Or forfeit your title."
Ezekial’s face twisted. But he muttered, "I'm sorry."
Maria returned to my side. The moment she did, Lucien approached.
"Retract your rejection," he said to his son.
Ezekial blinked. "What?"
"You rejected a fated mate. That bond was sacred. The imbalance curse is yours to bear. Your strength will never return unless it’s healed."
Realization hit him like a stone. His wolf’s silence. The ache. The emptiness.
But I stepped forward.
My voice was quiet—but sharp as glass. "You tormented me. You rejected me to watch me fall. Now that you’re broken, you want to take it back?"
Gasps. A few in the crowd nodded.
"There can never be anything between us."
His mask cracked. He lunged forward.
"You’re nothing! Just a mutt! Not even your own father wanted you!"
He shoved through the crowd and fled.
Lucien lingered only a moment, gave a terse nod to Maria, and followed.
Maria took my hand.
"Let’s go home."
The walk was silent. The night smelled of pine and ash. When we returned to the clinic, she gave me pajamas and tea. Kissed my forehead.
"You're my daughter now. Tomorrow, we’ll start looking for somewhere new. Somewhere worthy of you."
The fabric was soft. The tea was warm.
And for the first time in years, I slept—
Safe. Wanted.
Home.
- Writer
