MOONLIT FANGS

The Family Secret

I'm fine," Sebastian said, for the third time in as many minutes, watching Rhys fuss over him with a mix of fondness and mild irritation. "You don't need to run me a bath like I'm made of glass."

"You're not made of glass," Rhys said, testing the water temperature with the back of his hand, entirely ignoring the protest. "You're made of two-hundred-year-old vampire bones that I just put through a very intense night, and I want five minutes to make sure you're actually okay before you go pretending you're invincible again."

"I am, in fact, mostly invincible."

"Get in the bath, Sebastian."

Sebastian huffed, but the small, fond smile tugging at his mouth gave away exactly how little he actually minded being fussed over, whatever protests he put up for show. He settled into the warm water with a quiet, satisfied sigh, and Rhys knelt beside the tub, sleeves pushed up, gently working a cloth over his shoulders with a careful tenderness that felt like a direct contrast to the night before.

"You're being very gentle," Sebastian observed, watching him through half-lidded eyes.

"That's the whole point of aftercare, Sebastian. Gentle is the assignment right now."

"I don't need gentle. I told you, I'm fine." Sebastian tilted his head, something sly creeping into his expression. "In fact, I'd argue I could handle considerably more than gentle, if you were so inclined."

Rhys's hand paused mid-motion. "Don't start."

"I'm simply making an observation."

"You did this in the cabin too," Sebastian murmured, his voice dropping, a little rougher around the edges as he looked up at him. "Even when you were completely wiped out, even when you were tied, you still tried to do this. You still tried to fix me."

Rhys paused, the washcloth dripping warm water back into the tub. He looked down at Sebastian, his expression softening completely, the hard edge of his alpha instincts melting away into something completely raw and honest. He pressed the wet cloth gently against Sebastian's collarbone, wiping away the remnants of the night with slow, deliberate strokes.

"Because I love you so much," Rhys said softly, his voice thick. "That's why. Because even when my brain is fried and my wolf is running on empty, I still want to take care of you."

Sebastian's sly expression vanished, replaced by something deep and quiet as he looked at Rhys. For a second, the playful teasing stopped. He reached up, his cool fingers wrapping around Rhys's wrist, just holding him there against his skin.

"I know," Sebastian whispered. Then, his mouth curved again, the familiar, deliberate spark returning to his dark eyes. "But I only meant that I feel remarkably capable this morning. Considerably more capable than someone simply cleaning me up seems to assume."

"Sebastian."

"I'm only saying," Sebastian continued, voice dropping lower, "that whatever woke up in you last night—that particular hunger, that need to claim, to prove exactly who I belong to—that's an Alpha thing. Something only an Alpha can offer. I find myself wondering if you actually have the range to bring that back so soon, or if last night used up everything you had."

Rhys's grip on the cloth tightened, something dark and possessive flickering hot behind his eyes. "You think I don't have the range."

"I think," Sebastian said, leaning back against the edge of the tub, utterly unbothered, utterly deliberate, "that no one, mate or otherwise, gets to question what an Alpha is capable of. Least of all his own linker. But I suppose we'd have to test that theory properly to be certain."

Something in Rhys finally snapped clean through the careful restraint he'd been holding onto all morning, and whatever gentle aftercare he'd intended dissolved instantly into something else entirely.

What followed left absolutely no doubt, by the time it was over, about exactly what an Alpha was capable of, and Sebastian met every bit of it with soft, satisfied sounds that told Rhys, in no uncertain terms, precisely how little he actually minded being proven wrong.

Rhys realized somewhere in the middle of it, watching Sebastian arch and gasp beneath him, utterly undone and clearly, thoroughly delighted by every bit of intensity Rhys offered, that his mate had a taste for something Rhys hadn't fully expected — a hunger for the edge of sensation, for being pushed rather than coddled, that ran directly counter to every instinct Rhys had about protecting someone he loved.

It was, Rhys thought distantly, going to take some getting used to.

By the time they finally finished, both of them thoroughly wrung out and breathless, Rhys helped Sebastian properly out of the now-lukewarm bath, wrapping him in a towel with far more genuine tenderness than he'd managed to maintain twenty minutes earlier.

"You're smug," Rhys said, watching Sebastian's satisfied expression as he pulled on a soft pair of sweatpants Rhys handed him.

"I'm allowed to be smug. I was right."

"About what, exactly?"

"About the range," Sebastian said, entirely too pleased with himself. "It was, for the record, very much there."

Rhys rolled his eyes, tugging a soft shirt over Sebastian's head before he could keep gloating, though he couldn't quite hide his own small, satisfied smile. "Can I ask you something? Genuinely, not to tease you."

"Always."

"Do you — like pain? Is that a thing? Because that felt like more than just going along with it."

Sebastian laughed, low and warm, settling back against the pillows now that he was properly dressed. "Only if it comes from you," he said simply. "And for the record, I didn't actually feel any pain. Everything you gave me felt exactly like what I wanted. Every bit of it."

"So you're saying I didn't do a good enough job," Rhys said, mock offense creeping into his voice. "No pain whatsoever? None? I'm a little insulted, honestly."

Sebastian laughed properly at that, reaching up to flick Rhys gently on the nose. "You did more than enough. I promise you, there is nothing insulting about how thoroughly you took care of me this morning."

"I just want to make sure I'm doing my job properly."

"You're doing your job," Sebastian said, smiling, "exceptionally well." He gave Rhys a light, teasing slap on the arm.

"And I knew it. You just wanted to be told you did good."

"I do not need praise."

"You absolutely need praise. You're an Alpha. It's basically a defining trait."

Sebastian's smile softened into something warmer. "You did good, Rhys. Genuinely. Every part of this morning even last night."

Rhys felt something warm settle in his chest at that, quieter and more sincere than the teasing that had come before it, and after a moment, he held out his wrist, expression turning serious.

Sabastian sat down and hissed earning a smirk from Rhys .

"Here," he said quietly. "You should feed properly. You went through a lot last night too, even if you won't admit it."

Sebastian's eyes darkened slightly, gratitude and hunger mixing together as he took Rhys's wrist gently, pressing a soft kiss to the pulse point before his teeth found skin, careful and deliberate this time, unhurried.

Rhys let out a low, helpless moan at the first press of contact, still sensitive from the morning, and Sebastian drank slow and steadily, clearly savoring every bit of it.

Afterward, tangled together in the quiet aftermath, Rhys traced idle patterns along Sebastian's back, both of them finally, fully sated and settled.

"Can I talk to you about something serious?" Rhys asked eventually, voice quiet in the late morning light.

"Of course."

"The bond. Completing it properly. I've been putting off talking about it because it's — it's a lot, and I wanted to make sure you actually understood what it means before we went any further."

Sebastian propped himself up slightly, giving Rhys his full attention. "I'm listening."

"Completing a mate bond properly, for wolves, isn't just about us," Rhys said carefully. "It's not something private we can just do quietly between the two of us. Marking each other, making it permanent — that requires visiting the pack. All of it. Full pack, full ceremony, everyone present and accounted for. We can do it alone but a lot can go wrong."

"That sounds intense."

"It is intense."

"More intense than what we just did?"

Sebastian asked, one eyebrow raised, clearly unable to resist the joke even in a serious conversation.

"I'm being serious right now, Sebastian."

"I'm aware. I simply find myself curious how the bar could possibly get higher than this morning, last night and .... the cabin week."

Rhys huffed out a reluctant laugh despite himself, shaking his head. "For me to mark you, and for you to mark me back, properly, permanently — it has to happen in front of the pack. Do you understand what that actually means? A full pack. Wolves. Dozens of them, some who still aren't entirely sure how they feel about all this, watching the whole thing happen."

"I understand."

"I need you to really understand it, Sebastian. Not just nod along. Wolves can be — a lot, in large numbers. Especially around something as significant as a mate ceremony. I need to know you're not scared."

"I'm not scared," Sebastian said simply, steady and certain. "Not if you're standing beside me."

Something in Rhys's chest tightened, warm and aching all at once. "That's — exactly the problem, actually."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean nothing's going to happen to you while I'm standing there," Rhys said quietly. "That's not what scares me. What scares me is what I might do if anyone — even my own family — said or did something that threatened you in front of me. I don't know what version of me shows up if that happens, Sebastian. My rut was intense enough. I don't know what a threat to you does to an Alpha standing in the middle of his own pack."

Sebastian was quiet for a moment, considering that carefully. "Then we go in prepared," he said finally. "You talk to your grandmother beforehand. Make sure the pack understands the stakes clearly, so there's no room for anyone to test that particular boundary. I trust you completely, Rhys. I also trust that if something happened, you'd have every right to handle it exactly the way an Alpha should."

"I don't want to have to handle anything. I just want it to go smoothly."

"Then let's make sure it does," Sebastian said gently, reaching up to cup his face.

"Together. Same as everything else this semester."

Rhys let out a slow breath, some of the tension easing at the simple certainty in Sebastian's voice. "Okay. Together."

It was nearly evening by the time they finally left the warmth of the bed properly, and it was Sebastian, scrolling idly through his phone while Rhys made them both something to eat, who brought up the thing neither of them had mentioned in weeks.

"You said, months ago, that our families were hiding something," Sebastian said carefully. "Something older than the feud itself. Grier mentioned something similar, right before the council settled things with him. I never followed up on it properly. Do you know what it is?"

Rhys paused, spatula in hand, something uneasy crossing his face. "I don't know the full story. Just fragments. My grandmother's mentioned it a couple times, always in passing, always changing the subject the second I ask a real question about it."

"What kind of fragments?"

"Something about why the original Accord actually broke down. The official story's always been vague — a trade dispute, a broken promise, something political. But every time an older Calloway brings it up after a few drinks, there's always this — this look.

Like there's a version of the story nobody's supposed to say out loud."

Sebastian set his phone down slowly. "My father mentioned something similar once, actually, now that you say that. When he was explaining the bloodline history, the heartbeat thing. There was a pause, right before he moved on to another topic, like he'd caught himself about to say more than he meant to."

"You think it's connected?"

"I think," Sebastian said slowly, "that two hundred years is a very long time for two families to hate each other over a trade dispute that, by every account, sounds relatively minor in the grand scheme of supernatural politics. I think there's something else buried under all of it, and I think both our families have spent two centuries making very sure neither of us ever went looking properly."

Rhys set the spatula down, appetite suddenly gone, replaced by a slow, uneasy curiosity that had been sitting quietly in the back of his mind for months without him ever quite naming it. "Do you want to find out? Actually find out, properly, instead of just collecting fragments?"

Sebastian considered that for a long moment, something careful and resolved settling over his expression. "I think," he said finally, "that whatever it is, it's already shaped both our lives more than either of us realized, long before we ever met. I'd rather know the truth than keep living around the edges of a secret neither of us actually understands."

"That could complicate things. If it's bad."

"Things are already complicated, Rhys. I'd rather face something real than keep wondering what's hiding underneath everything we've already survived together."

Rhys nodded slowly, something settling into place — quiet resolve replacing the uneasy curiosity. "Okay. Then let's actually find out. Together."

Outside, the last of the evening light faded slowly over Wraith Hollow, and somewhere in the old family records neither of their grandparents had ever fully opened for them, the truth about the Calloway-Vale Accord sat waiting, patient and undisturbed, for two hundred years exactly as it had been left.