Betrayal Under The Blood Moon

Chapter Seven

SADIE

Blood hits the pillow before I feel it running from my nose. Thick, too dark, tasting of copper and something else. Lightning. Ozone. The edge of prophecy I can't quite grasp.

The vision slips away like smoke through fingers—a woman with my face but older, crying over something I can't see. Snow falling upward. A building that smells like death and antiseptic. Dante's voice saying a name that isn't mine.

Then nothing but this pounding in my skull and blood painting the white sheets crimson.

"Shit." I pinch the bridge of my nose, tilting my head back. Fourth nosebleed in two days. Fourth vision that makes no f*****g sense. The heat's supposed to be fading, but my body has other plans. New symptoms every hour, like puberty and menopause had a baby and fed it steroids.

The safe house door opens without a knock. Only one person has that privilege.

"You're bleeding again." Dante crosses to me in three strides, all controlled power and barely leashed concern. Three days of watching me burn and he still looks at me like I might evaporate. "Same as yesterday?"

"Worse." I let him tilt my chin up, examining damage I can't see. His thumb brushes the corner of my mouth and every nerve ending fires. "Vision this time. Useless one."

"Tell me."

"Woman crying. Snow that doesn't know how gravity works. You saying—" I stop. The name dissolves before I can voice it, leaving only the shape of loss. "Something. Someone. Gone now."

He presses a cloth to my nose, gentle despite hands that could snap necks. Have snapped necks. The thought shouldn't make heat pool low in my belly, but my body's given up on shoulds.

"Morgana says visions come with white wolf gifts. Your power trying to tell you something."

"My power needs to learn basic communication skills." The bleeding slows, leaving only the taste of prophecy I can't swallow. "How's the media spinning my dramatic exit?"

"Your parents are claiming temporary insanity brought on by trauma. Randall's playing the wounded fiancé, giving interviews about your 'breakdown.'"

"Is that what we're calling it?" I laugh, but it comes out sharp. "Twenty-six years of poison and I finally tell them what I think. Definitely a breakdown."

His hand finds my hair, stroking through tangles I haven't had energy to fix. The simple touch grounds me, pulls me back from the edge of whatever my brain's trying to show me.

"You need to eat."

"I need you." The words slip out raw, honest. Heat makes liars of us all, stripping away careful constructions. "Need you so much it's eating me alive."

His hand stills. Three days of this dance—him giving just enough to keep me sane, never enough to satisfy. Noble f*****g Alpha with his noble f*****g restraint while I claw at my own skin.

"Soon." Same promise he's been making. "When your mind clears—"

"My mind's never been clearer." I catch his wrist, keep him close. "That's the problem. All the static's gone. Just me and what I want. Who I want."

"Sadie—"

"Mail my ring back."

The subject change throws him. Good. If I can't have what I need, I can at least handle what I don't.

"Your engagement ring?"

"Two carats, colorless, flawless. Like everything else about that relationship." I pull away, needing distance before I do something stupid. Like beg. Again. "Send it to Randall's office. No note. He'll understand."

"You sure?"

"I grabbed his throat in front of witnesses. Pretty sure that translates to 'wedding's off' in any language."

He studies me with those impossible eyes, green shot through with gold that goes full amber when his wolf rises. Right now they're somewhere between, man and beast equally interested.

"I'll handle it."

"You'll handle everything, won't you?" Bitterness creeps in, surprising us both. "Keep me safe. Keep me controlled. Keep me at arm's length while I burn."

"That's not—"

"Fair?" I stand too fast, room spinning. "Nothing about this is fair. I went camping to drink wine and figure out if I wanted to marry someone who bored me. Instead I got my throat ripped out, found out I'm not human, and imprinted on someone who won't touch me because my hormones make me unreliable."

"Your hormones don't make you unreliable." He rises with me, matching my agitation. "They make you vulnerable. There's a difference."

"I'm tired of being vulnerable." Truth in that. Twenty-six years of doctors, needles, careful management of a condition that didn't exist. "When do I get to be strong?"

"You are strong. You faced down the people who poisoned you. Broke Randall's hold. Survived what would kill most wolves."

"Survived but not lived." I pace to the window, needing movement. Outside, pack life continues. Wolves in both forms going about their day, purpose in every stride. "They have jobs. Routines. Lives. What do I have?"

"Time to figure that out."

My phone buzzes on the nightstand. Miracle it still works after everything. Senator Patterson's name lights the screen, and muscle memory has me answering before I remember I don't work for her anymore.

"Sadie?" Her voice carries warmth despite the professional tone. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm..." What? In heat? Dying of want? Having visions that make me bleed? "Adjusting."

"I imagine so. Listen, I won't take much of your time. I know you're going through something unprecedented. But I wanted you to know your position is still open. When you're ready."

"I can't—Senators don't employ Otherkind."

"This one does. Or will, once the special provision passes. Work permits for Otherkind with exceptional circumstances. You'd be the first."

"Why?" Genuine confusion. "Why fight for this?"

"Because you're the best staffer I've ever had. Because what happened to you is exactly why we need integration—children stolen, identities erased, potential destroyed out of fear." She pauses. "And because I know what it's like to hide what you are to survive in their world."

The admission hangs between us. Patterson, champion of Otherkind rights, hiding her own nature. How many of us are there, wearing human masks?

"I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask. Take your time. The offer stands whenever you're ready." Another pause. "And Sadie? What you did yesterday, standing up to them—that took incredible courage."

She ends the call before I can respond. I stare at the phone, trying to process a future I hadn't considered. Going back to work. Living between worlds with official permission.

"She's quarter fae." Dante says it quiet, like sharing a secret. "Keeps it hidden for political survival."

"How many others? How many people walking around pretending, poisoning themselves to pass?"

"Too many."

Thunder rolls outside, responding to my emotional spike. The power comes easier now, environment bending to my will without conscious thought. Dangerous gift for someone with my control issues.

"I need air."

"The sensory overload—"

"Is driving me crazy anyway." I move toward the door, daring him to stop me. "I can hide here or actually try to figure out what I am."

He doesn't fight, just falls into step beside me. Always there, always watching, always just out of reach. The pack compound spreads before us—buildings that blend into forest, paths worn by centuries of paws and feet. Everything smells too much, sounds too loud, but underneath the chaos there's something else.

Home.

Wolves nod as we pass, respectful distance and curious glances. They know what I am—white wolf, blessed, dangerous. They know I'm in heat, know their Alpha claims me, know the bond remains incomplete. Pack gossip travels faster than lightning.

"Luna." A young wolf approaches, maybe sixteen. She clutches something wrapped in cloth. "I made this. For you. If you want."

I take the bundle, careful not to touch her. Even that brief contact might trigger something, and she smells like packmate. Safe. Protected. The cloth falls away to reveal a carved wooden wolf, white as bone.

"It's beautiful."

"My grandfather says white wolves blessed our pack once. Long time ago. Before the walls." She ducks her head, suddenly shy. "Maybe you'll bless us again."

She's gone before I can respond, leaving me holding prophecy carved in pine. The wolf's eyes seem to follow me, accusing. What blessings can I offer when I can barely control my own body?

"She means well." Dante guides me away from the growing crowd. Even outside, my pheromones draw attention. "The pack hasn't had a white wolf in fifty years."

"What happened to the last one?"

His silence answers before words. Death, then. Always death for the different, the dangerous, the blessed who become targets.

We reach a grove of ancient trees, their canopy blocking the worst of sensory assault. A stream runs through it, water chattering over stones worn smooth. Peace, or as close as I'm likely to get.

"Sit." He pulls me down beside him, back against bark that's stood longer than countries. "Tell me what you need."

"You know what I need."

"Besides that."

"There is no besides that." I lean into him, shameless. His scent wraps around me, easing the worst edges. "Everything comes back to wanting you. Needing you. Going slowly insane because you're right there and won't—"

"Can't." Correction through gritted teeth. "Won't implies choice. This is necessity."

"Why?"

"Because you deserve better than biology choosing for you."

"What if I already chose?" I shift to face him, studying angles that belong on museum walls. "What if I chose three years ago when I first saw you on C-SPAN? What if every time Randall touched me, I closed my eyes and pretended it was you?"

His control cracks, just slightly. A muscle jumps in his jaw, hands clenching to fists. The heat in his eyes could incinerate cities.

"You don't know what you're asking."

"Then show me."

The words hang between us like a dare. Like permission. Like the key to a door we've both been circling. He moves faster than thought, pinning me against the tree. Not violent, just sudden. Inevitable.

"You want to know what you're asking?" His voice drops to registers that make my bones liquid. "Fine."

He tilts my head, exposing the side of my neck. The omega gland throbs there, raised and sensitive. Three days of heat have brought it to the surface, biological imperative made flesh. His breath ghosts over it and I whimper, actually f*****g whimper, like some Victorian maiden.

"This is what you're asking for." His teeth graze the gland, not breaking skin but threatening. "Once I bite here, infuse it with my pheromones, you're mine. Not metaphorically. Not romantically. Biologically. Your body will crave me, need me, recognize me as mate on cellular level."

"Already does."

"No." He pulls back enough to meet my eyes. "You think you know need? This is nothing. A match next to bonfire. When I claim you properly, when my pheromones rewrite your chemistry—you'll burn for me. Only me. Forever."

"Good."

The simple acceptance breaks something in him. He crushes his mouth to mine, kiss nothing like the careful touches before. This is possession, promise, barely controlled violence. I taste his restraint shredding, feel his wolf rising to meet mine.

When he breaks away, we're both gasping. My body screams for more, for completion, for the bite that will end this torture. Instead, he presses his forehead to mine, breathing ragged.

"Tonight." Promise and threat tangled together. "When the moon rises. When your heat peaks. I'll give you what you need."

"Dante—"

"Tonight." He stands, pulling me up. "Until then, we prepare."

"Prepare for what?"

His smile shows too many teeth. "For the end of one life and the beginning of another. For the death of who you were and the birth of who you'll become." He cups my face, thumb tracing my cheekbone. "For the moment when Sadie Westbrook stops existing and the white wolf of Portland takes her place."

The promise shivers through me, fear and anticipation twisted together. Tonight. Hours that stretch like years, but finite. Survivable.

Maybe.

The walk back is torture. Every step rubs fabric against oversensitized skin. Every breath brings his scent, marking me as surely as teeth. The carved wolf digs into my palm, reminder of expectations I can't meet.

Blessed. Sacred. Powerful.

Right now I'm just a woman who needs so badly she might break from it. But tonight...

Tonight I find out who I really am when the moon watches and teeth break skin and everything I was burns away.

I can hardly wait.