Born To Be More

Jewel Moon Village

Raine

His house is a fucken mansion. Not just a big house—no, this thing is a huge-ass, storybook, how-do-you-even-clean-this beast of a mansion. Like four, maybe five stories high, all made of this stunning stonework. And the drive-in? OH MY GOD. It’s straight out of a damn movie. My jaw practically hit the dashboard. Breath-taking doesn’t even cover it.

Then, bam—his mum and dad come down the front steps like a welcoming committee from a royal court. They're lovely, sure... but maybe a heads-up would’ve been nice, Max?! Like, “Hey babe, we’re meeting my parents today”? No? Cool.

Everything about us has been fast—warp speed, heart-hammering, neck-breaking fast. But still. Damn him for not warning me.

Naturally, I nearly face-planted walking through the door because I was too busy gawking at the carved details and the sheer elegance of the place. Smooth, Raine. Real smooth.

The foyer is grand, but somehow still warm. Inviting. My chest tightens, and I feel weirdly hot, like I’m having a freakin’ hot flush. Too much? Not enough air? Probably both.

“Raine, let’s go to my quarters and freshen up,” Max says beside me. “Then we can have a cuppa, and I’ll show you around the house and village.”

I nod, smiling, though my brain’s still lagging a step behind. Freshen up. Yes, that sounds like exactly what I need. A splash of water, a mental reset, a place to sit down and breathe.

We walk past these insane wood carvings—wolves, I realize, intricately worked into the trim, curling along the archways. They’re mesmerizing and oddly familiar. I stop for a second, tracing one with my eyes.

The lift dings open. Max guides me in with a hand at my back.

And then it happens.

“Angel,” he murmurs.

I look up at him—about to ask what’s wrong—and then his body is pressing me back against the wall. His eyes are molten. My pulse stutters.

Before I can even exhale, his mouth crashes onto mine.

"I’ve wanted you in my room and in my bed since I saw you at the airport," he says, his voice low and rough, and holy hell—I shiver all over. Just like that, my kootchie turns into a molten puddle. Damn slut, I mentally scold myself, but she is thriving.

He kisses me hard, pinning me to the lift wall with his body, his d**k pressing hot and heavy against my core. Instinctively, I grind back. He groans. "See what you do to me, Angel," he says, crashing his mouth against mine again. I nip his lip, and that’s when I hear it.

"Mate," he whispers.

Wait—what?

"What did you..." I start to ask, but he grabs my hand, tugging me out of the lift like nothing just happened.

"Come on, Angel."

We walk down a wide hallway, and I’m trying to figure out if I imagined the word or if he actually said it. My brain is foggy from the kiss. And the d**k. And the whole Alpha overload vibe he’s got going on.

"This floor is mine," he says as we walk. "Designed for my future wife and I—and our family. It has six bedrooms, each with its own bathroom. At the end of the hall is a family room and a study space."

He opens a door, and I blink in surprise.

It’s less “bedroom” and more “luxury apartment on the cover of GQ.” Modern. Masculine. Sexy. Kind of like the man beside me. All sleek blacks and warm greys, leather furniture, soft lighting, and an enormous bed that screams you won’t be sleeping much here.

Holy s**t. Who is Max?

This room is fit for a damn king. The bed alone looks like it was designed for an orgy—or a whole damn football team. The furniture is heavy, masculine, solid wood, and the color scheme is all rich greys and deep blues, with a textured accent wall behind the massive bed that screams money and power.

I wander toward the balcony doors, unable to stop staring.

"Angel, go on—open them," Max says, grinning like the smug bastard he is. "There’s a hot tub out there we can use later."

Of course there is.

I step out, and my jaw just about hits the floor. The view is straight out of a fantasy. Endless snow-capped mountains stretch into the distance, wrapped in morning mist. The air is cool, crisp, and carries the scent of pine. It’s peaceful, like the whole world stopped for a moment just so I could breathe.

Max slides in behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist. "Welcome to Jewel Moon, baby," he whispers, brushing a kiss against my neck.

I melt a little. And then I remember.

"Max, who are you?" I demand, turning in his arms. "You live in a goddamn mansion, and not once did you mention that I’d be meeting your parents today!"

He just laughs.

"Sorry, Angel—there really wasn’t time."

I smack his chest—lightly, of course—but he catches my hand and kisses it, still grinning like the sexy, frustrating, secretive man he is.

"Not even the whole ride out here, Max?" I ask, eyebrows raised.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. "Well... yes, I could have. But I didn’t think it would be such a big deal. My whole family lives here—we’ve been part of this community for generations."

I give him a look that says that’s not the point, but he steamrolls right on with that smirk of his.

"You know I’m in the security business," he continues, “but I also invest in hotel real estate and tech.”

I blink. "Okay."

"Okay?" he echoes, one brow arching. "That’s it? You don’t want, I don’t know, details? You’re not even a little curious?"

I step closer and rest my palm flat over his heart, feeling the steady beat beneath my fingertips. "No, Max. That’s not really my business. This right here—this is what I care about."

He stills, then leans in and kisses me. It’s soft. Intentional. A slow unraveling of every breath I’m holding. His hand curls around the back of my neck, anchoring me gently.

"You’re gonna ruin me, Angel," he murmurs against my lips.

"Good," I whisper.

We took the stairs this time, descending past walls of stone and oak. Soft black carpet muffled our steps, and the carved banister swept elegantly from floor to floor. "The main family room is this way," Max said, glancing back at me with a smile.

I followed him through a wide hallway, passing a massive dining space that could seat an army. Just as we turned the corner, I noticed movement—two little heads peeking out from behind a wall.

I stopped and crouched a little. "Well hello there… are you two hiding?" I asked gently.

Giggles answered me, and two small children tumbled out into the open. Max turned just as they launched at him.

"What are you two ratbags up to?" he said with mock sternness, bending to scoop the little girl into his arms. She squealed as he tickled her, and the boy hugged his leg like it was a lifeline.

"Raine, meet Arabell and Michael," Max said, eyes warm. "These two know all the best hiding spots in the house."

Arabell giggled, her arms wrapping around Max’s neck with the ease of someone who clearly adored him. I smiled, but my heart did something strange—something tender.

Then I felt a tiny tug on my hand.

Michael was studying me seriously, his little chest puffed out. "I’m strong, Luna," he said proudly.

My breath caught. The word hit me like a ripple in my chest, unexpected and... right.

I glanced up at Max, who was watching me closely, expression unreadable. But something deep in his eyes told me this wasn’t just a cute kid moment.

This was something more.

"My name is Raine, sweetheart," I said, kneeling to Michael’s level. "And I can tell you’re very strong. I bet you’ll be huge when you grow up."

He beamed at me like I’d just handed him the moon.

"Off you go, kids," Max said, lowering Arabell to the ground. "Raine and I have to get going."

"Bye, Luna!" they chorused as they ran off down the hall.

I couldn’t help but giggle. "Cute kids, Max. Who do they belong to?"

He laced his fingers with mine and tugged gently. "I’ll explain later, Angel. Let’s go see my parents first."

His parents were... wonderful. Warm, genuine, and welcoming in a way that caught me completely off guard. There was no forced politeness, no suspicious glances—just easy smiles and soft laughter, like I already belonged.

They even invited me for Christmas.

Christmas.

It shouldn’t mean anything. It’s months away. People throw around invitations like confetti. But the way his mother said it, the way Max squeezed my hand under the table...

I think they expect me to still be here. With him.

And honestly? I want to be.

I’ve fallen hard. I know how crazy that sounds. We’ve only just met. But somehow, I can’t imagine not being with Max. It’s like something old in me recognizes him. And that scares me as much as it comforts me.

“Rainey, want to take a look around the village?” Max asked casually. I caught the look that passed between him and his parents. Something unspoken. Something... planned.

"Sure," I said slowly, curiosity stirring.

Max stood, tugging me up with him, and without warning, planted a firm kiss on my lips.

"Max!" I squealed, pushing his chest lightly.

His parents were smiling—wide, knowing smiles.

I smacked his shoulder. "You are so embarrassing sometimes."

He just laughed, like I was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. And for some reason, that made me fall for him just a little more.

Walking out of the mansion, Max takes me on a tour of the village—and wow, it’s incredible. There's an outdoor Olympic-sized pool, a fully equipped indoor pool complex, and a massive gym attached, complete with a boxing ring.

Inside, I spot a mix of people training hard, and while most are focused, the women? Not so much. The stares—and okay, flat-out glares—I’m getting are sharp enough to slice glass. Yep. I can already tell that’s going to be a recurring theme. I mean, look at him. Max looks like he was sculpted by ancient gods—and that’s without seeing him train. I can only imagine what a sweaty, post-workout Max looks like. Probably illegal in several countries.

“Angel,” Max says, snapping me back from my mental thirst trap.

“Sorry,” I grin sheepishly.

“I want to show you the youth center,” he says.

“That sounds great,” I reply as we head out the door toward another building.

The building is striking—sleek black and silver tones, accented with fiery streaks of red and orange for a bold pop of color. As we approach, I notice the front and sides are almost entirely made of tinted glass, giving it a futuristic feel.

“This is the youth center,” Max says. “It’s designed to give teens a safe place to hang out, train, study, or just be. We’ve got a cinema, basketball court, gaming hub, tech lab, and a gym.”

“Wow, Max… that’s fantastic,” I say, genuinely impressed. “That age can be so awkward—they’re stuck between childhood and adulthood, not quite fitting into either. A place like this can really help them figure out who they are and feel like they belong. Do you run programs here?”

He glances at me, a proud smile tugging at his lips. “We’ve just started piloting a couple of them. I’d love your input.”

We walked through the building, checking out the tech hub, the gaming lounge, and the gym. As we passed one of the quiet rooms, I spotted a girl sitting cross-legged in the corner, completely absorbed in sketching. I felt drawn to her instantly.

“Hey, I’m Raine,” I said gently.

“Hey,” she replied without looking up, her pencil still moving across the page.

“May I?” I asked, pointing to her sketchpad.

She gave a small nod, and I crouched beside her, careful not to intrude too much. My breath caught when I saw what she’d drawn—a wolf by a lake, its fur rippling with delicate strokes of pencil. The wolf stared across the water, its eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite name—longing, maybe... or wisdom. It was peaceful and haunting all at once. This girl had talent. Raw, emotional talent.

“What’s your name?” I asked softly, not wanting to break the quiet magic.

She glanced up at me with a flicker of attitude in her eyes, but I caught Max shifting at the doorway and realized he was watching closely.

“I’m only asking because your art is incredible,” I added, keeping my voice low. “You should be signing your name to these pieces. You’ve got something special, and the world deserves to see it.”

I gently flipped through a couple of pages, each one more stunning than the last, then handed the portfolio back to her.

“My name’s Megan,” she finally said.

I offered my hand. She hesitated, then reached out and shook it.

“It’s really cool to meet you, Megan. I’d love to see more of your work sometime, if you’re ever up for sharing.”

A shy smile tugged at her lips. “That’d be okay.”

I smiled back, standing up again. Max silently reached for my hand and led me out of the room. Neither of us spoke as we stepped outside—but the warmth in his touch said everything.

“Rainey, Megan talks to no one,” Max says quietly. “She usually just gives a hello, if that. That’s all it’s been for the last year since her mum passed. It was just the two of them, and... well, she hasn’t really made any friends since. The youth mentors are really worried about her.”

My heart aches. “She’s got so much talent, Max. I’d love the chance to work with her—really connect.”

He stops, cupping my cheek. “You’re incredible, you know that? I’d love that too.”

He leans in and kisses me, deepening it until his hand finds my waist and pulls me flush against him. I melt into him, lips parting, until the sound of teenage giggles breaks the moment. A couple of kids spill out of the youth center, clearly amused by the not-so-subtle PDA. I pull back, blushing, and Max chuckles low in his throat.

We walk hand-in-hand through the gardens, and up ahead I notice a narrow trail leading into the woods.

“Let’s save that one for tomorrow, Angel,” Max says, catching my glance.

“Just a little peek?” I tease, nudging him. “You know I love the woods.”

He raises an eyebrow, pretending to be stern. “Only for a bit. Then dinner—because you must be starving.”

“Fair,” I grin, already stepping ahead toward the trees. There’s something about the woods here—familiar, like they know me. Like they’re waiting.

We walk just a little way into the woods, and almost instantly, I feel it—peace. Not the quiet kind, but a bone-deep, soul-settling stillness. I run my fingertips along the bark of the trees as we move, soaking in the hum beneath the surface. Alive. Ancient.

Max trails a step behind, watching me closely.

“This feels familiar, Max,” I say softly. “Like… I’ve been here before.”

I rest my head against the trunk of a tall pine and close my eyes. A warmth starts in my toes, rising through my body like golden liquid light, flooding my chest, my throat, my mind. I grip the tree tighter, afraid I might float right off the ground. The feeling is electric and euphoric—like every nerve is singing.

Then—voices. Distant. Echoing, like they’re bouncing through the mountains. And a name, called over and over, soft and reverent:

Shyla.

“Rainey—Rainey!” Max’s voice cuts through, grounding me. My eyes flutter open to see him inches from me, his hands gently cupping my face, his thumbs brushing back and forth like he’s trying to bring me back from somewhere far.

“Rainey, where the hell did you go?” he says, eyes dark with worry.

I smile lazily. “I haven’t gone anywhere.”

He doesn’t look convinced. “Angel, you zoned out completely. You were just... standing there, like the tree had swallowed you. Come on, let me take you back. You need to rest.”

“Okay, Mr. Wolf,” I tease, but I can’t hide the haze in my voice. I feel buzzy. Turned on. Alive in a way I’ve never felt.

Max shakes his head, muttering something under his breath, then lifts me into his arms bridal-style and carries me through the woods, back toward the house.