Her Blood, Their Bond

Chapter Two- The Graveyard Shift

Rhea POV

The graveyard shift felt heavier tonight. My skin itched under my uniform, every sound too sharp, every smell too strong. The café reeked of coffee beans and fryer oil, but threaded through it was that same scent I’d noticed last night. Grass. Rain. Green and sharp.

And him.

He was back. Same corner booth, same untouched coffee. Blond hair a little neater, hood off this time, eyes locked on me like I was the only thing in the room.

I pretended not to notice and leaned against the counter while Mark counted change.

“You really working tomorrow night, Rhea?” he asked. “Eighteen’s supposed to be special. You should be out with friends, not babysitting drunks and caffeine addicts.”

Heat prickled in my cheeks. “Bills don’t care about birthdays.”

Mark snorted. “Still. Kid like you deserves a night off. First shift into adulthood should be something better than this dump.”

I laughed it off, but my stomach twisted. He wasn’t wrong, but I didn’t have the luxury of celebrating.

When I turned back, the guy in the booth was watching me again. Not just curious—focused, like he’d heard every word. My chest squeezed, uneasy and something else I didn’t want to name.

I forced myself forward with the pot. “Another refill?”

He tilted his head, a smile just barely pulling at his mouth. “Yeah. Thanks.”

I poured, careful this time not to spill. His gaze stayed on me the whole time, and I felt my pulse stumble again.

He cleared his throat. “So… eighteen tomorrow?”

I blinked. “You were listening?”

“Hard not to,” he said, not even pretending to be embarrassed. His voice was steady, low, threaded with something that made my skin warm. “You don’t sound excited.”

“It’s just another day.”

“Doesn’t have to be.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. My cheeks burned hotter, so I ducked away before I could stammer something stupid. But the whisper inside me was waiting when I reached the counter.

Mate.

I gripped the handle of the pot tighter. “Shut up,” I muttered under my breath.

Mark glanced over. “You say something?”

“Nothing,” I lied.

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Caleb POV

Her boss’s words landed like a stone in my chest. Eighteen tomorrow.

So young. Still unshifted.

No wonder her scent was faint last night, muted like an ember under ash. But tonight it was stronger—coffee and caramel blooming, carrying the edge of something wild. The full moon was only days away. My wolf prowled inside me, restless.

And she didn’t even seem to care it was her birthday. That wasn’t right. No pack, no family celebration. Just her, working graveyard shifts for bills. My wolf hated that—wanted to give her more than this café, more than an empty night.

When she came with the pot, her hand trembled less than last night, but she was still nervous. Still drawn. She poured, and I caught her wrist before she pulled back. Just lightly, enough to get her eyes.

“Tomorrow’s not just another day,” I said.

Blue eyes blinked at me, confused. She didn’t understand what I meant.

Not resisting. Not hiding.

Oblivious.

My wolf stilled with the realization. She had no idea.

Gods, she didn’t know what she was.

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Rhea POV

I should’ve walked away after pouring the refill. That was the rule: serve, smile, leave. No lingering, no talking unless they wanted to. But when he caught my wrist, light as a feather, I froze.

“Tomorrow’s not just another day,” he said, his voice low and sure, like he was letting me in on some secret.

My mouth went dry. “Uh… well, it is if you’re me.”

His brow lifted slightly, eyes warm and deep as they studied me. “You don’t like birthdays?”

“I don’t like bills,” I said, pulling free, maybe sharper than I meant to. “Can’t pay rent with cake.”

He let out the faintest laugh, shaking his head. “You’re stubborn.”

“I call it practical.”

“Practical,” he echoed, and for some reason the word on his lips made heat curl low in my stomach. He didn’t look away, didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t staring.

I broke eye contact first, retreating a step. “Coffee’s gonna get cold if you don’t drink it.”

“Guess I’ll just have to order another,” he said smoothly.

I rolled my eyes and muttered, “Smartass,” before heading back to the counter. But my heart was racing, and I hated how badly I wanted to look back at him.

The voice in my head purred instead of whispered this time.

Mate.

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Caleb POV

She tried to brush me off, but her pulse betrayed her. I heard it stutter, saw the flush bloom across her cheeks when I teased. She was drawn whether she admitted it or not.

Practical. That’s what she called herself. Gods, she had no idea. Practical had nothing to do with mate bonds, with the pull gnawing at my chest to stay, to touch, to claim.

I forced my hands flat against the table before I could reach for her again. Too much, too fast. She didn’t know.

But her scent… it was richer tonight. Caramel thicker, coffee sharper. My wolf paced beneath my skin, growling mine, mine, mine.

She thought I was a smartass. Fine. Better that than terrifying her with the truth.

When she rolled her eyes and walked away, I let myself smile, just a little.

She could pretend it was just another night. I knew better.

Tomorrow, she turned eighteen. Tomorrow, I’d prove it wasn’t just another day.

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October 31

Rhea POV

Eighteen.

I stared at the number on my phone screen like it might blink into something else. Like if I refreshed enough times, it’d change back to seventeen and I’d have one more year before adulthood sank its claws in.

The clock read 3:47 p.m. My head pounded like I’d been drinking, though I hadn’t touched a drop. Sunlight bled through the thin curtains of my apartment, hot and sharp, pressing against my skin until I wanted to crawl out of it.

I hated the sun. Always had. It didn’t burn me, not exactly, but it made me feel heavy, sluggish, wrong. Like I was carrying extra weight I couldn’t shake.

I dragged myself up, pacing the tiny living room. My bones ached deep, a buzzing undercurrent in my legs and arms like I needed to run but had nowhere to go.

And the voice.

Change.

It whispered in my head again, curling around my thoughts until I pressed my palms against my temples.

“Shut up,” I muttered.

Mate.

“No,” I snapped out loud, the sound bouncing off the walls. My voice cracked. “Not real. Not me.”

But my chest throbbed, hollow and hungry, and no matter how many crackers I shoved in my mouth, the ache didn’t ease.

Bills cluttered the counter. Rent due. Electric past-due notice tucked under the fridge magnet.

Happy birthday, Rhea.

I pulled my apron from the chair and slipped it over my head, ignoring the faint tremor in my hands. Graveyard shift started in an hour. The one place I could pretend to be normal, even if my boss was the only one who remembered what today was.

I tied the knot at my waist, squared my shoulders, and whispered to myself: Just another night.

But the whisper in my head disagreed.

No. Awakening.