MOONLIT FANGS

Mine

Three weeks later, Rhys Calloway had a problem, and the problem had a name.

That name was currently sitting two seats down from him in Interspecies Law, laughing.

Actually laughing, quietly, at something Talia had just whispered, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Werewolves didn't get crushed quietly. It wasn't in their biology. When a werewolf liked someone, everyone within a ten-mile radius usually found out about it.

Their scent changed, their heart rate spiked, and worst of all, their inner wolf started reacting to things it had absolutely no business reacting to. Which was exactly how Rhys found himself, one Tuesday evening, standing outside the campus coffee shop with every single hair on his arms standing straight up.

He was glaring daggers at a very confused sophomore vampire who had made the fatal mistake of standing about six inches too close to Sebastian in line.Rhys." Milo grabbed his forearm, squeezing tight before his friend could do something monumentally stupid. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"You are literally growling at a nineteen-year-old for holding a cup of coffee near Vale."

"He was in his personal space."

"He was ordering a caramel latte, Rhys. He wasn't proposing marriage."

Rhys forced himself to look away, his jaw clamped shut so hard it ached. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his knuckles turning white.

Across the shop, Sebastian caught his eye through the glass window.

For one horrifying second, Rhys was absolutely positive the vampire had seen the entire spectacle—the growling, the glaring, all of it.

Sebastian's mouth curved into the smallest, most insufferable smirk Rhys had ever seen.

He knew. He absolutely knew."I hate him," Rhys muttered, offering zero conviction.

"You've hated him for three years, and yet somehow this is the first time you've threatened a stranger over a beverage," Milo said, leaning against the brick wall.

"Kind of a big development, buddy."

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying. Possessive is a whole new look for you."

The truth—the terrifying reality Rhys had been actively dodging for weeks—was that something had shifted between them.

He had no idea when or how it happened.

It had started small. Sebastian saved him a seat in the back row of lectures without being asked.

Rhys caught himself smiling down at his phone before he’d even processed sending a text back.

Study sessions that stretched past midnight for no real reason, simply because neither of them wanted to be the first one to pack up their bags.

And then there was the scent thing. It had hit him two weeks ago.

Rhys had been sitting close to Sebastian—closer than necessary, if he was being completely honest with himself—and had caught, for the first time, what the vampire actually smelled like underneath the cold library air and old paper. It was something dark and rich.

Like the heavy air inside an old cathedral, or rain striking hot stone. And right underneath that layer lay something else.

Something that made the wolf in his chest go entirely, completely still.

The way it only ever did around one thing.Pack. Home. Mine. Rhys had nearly fallen backward out of his chair.

He hadn't told a soul. He especially hadn't told Sebastian, because saying it out loud would make it real.

And if it was real, it meant the boy his family had spent two hundred years teaching him to despise might actually be his fated mate.

That was the kind of information that could get a person disowned, exiled, or worse—mocked mercilessly by his own beta for the rest of his natural life."You're doing the face again," Milo said, watching his expressions shift.

"I told you there is no face."

"There's absolutely a face. It's the 'I'm having an existential crisis about a bloodsucker' face. I've seen it at least forty times this month."

Before Rhys could snap back, the coffee shop door chimed open. Sebastian stepped out into the cool evening air, two paper cups balanced in his hands.

He crossed the concrete courtyard, walking directly toward them as if he belonged there. For you," Sebastian said, holding one of the cups out toward Rhys.

"You always complain that the campus blend tastes like battery acid. I got you the good stuff from down the block."

Rhys stared at the cardboard cup like it might be rigged to explode. "You bought me coffee."

"I bought myself one and got a second out of habit. Don't make it a whole thing."

"You don't even drink coffee. You're a vampire."

"I like the smell," Sebastian said simply. The flat, matter-of-fact way he said it made everything worse, not better. It meant he had remembered.

He’d actually listened to a passing complaint Rhys had muttered weeks ago, kept it in his head, and acted on it. Rhys reached out and took the cup.

Their fingers brushed against each other—a brief, accidental contact. It had been happening more and more lately, these little brushes, and every single time, Rhys's entire nervous system short-circuited."Thanks," Rhys mumbled, keeping his eyes glued to the plastic lid.

"You're welcome," Sebastian said. Then, his voice dropped lower, the tone shifting into something quieter, almost as if he hadn't intended to let the words slip past his teeth. "You smell different today."

Rhys's head snapped up. "What?"

"Nothing."Sebastian's jaw ticked. For the first time since freshman year, Rhys caught a crack in that flawless, high-society composure.

It was a fleeting glimmer of the same panic Rhys had been drowning in for weeks. Forget I said that."

"No, hold on. What did you mean? How do I smell different?"

"I have class," Sebastian said abruptly. He spun on his heel and walked away so fast his long strides bordered on a sprint.

Rhys was left standing on the concrete path, left holding a paper cup he hadn't asked for, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. Milo looked from Rhys to Sebastian’s retreating, then slowly pivoted his gaze back to Rhys.

The pieces were clicking together in his head, one by one. Oh my god," Milo whispered. "It's not just you."

"Shut up."

"He feels it too."

"Shut up, Milo."

"You two are going to be absolutely insufferable," Milo said, a massive grin splitting his face so wide it looked painful. "I literally cannot wait."

The Full Moon Trials were the one night of the semester every werewolf on campus took seriously. No exceptions. No excuses. This year, Rhys had exactly zero patience left for distractions.

He certainly didn't have time for his own biology to choose the middle of the largest event of the academic year to fully activate his mate bond.

The structure of the Trials was straightforward: under the peak of the full moon, each campus pack sent their strongest fighter into the dirt arena to compete for territory and rank. As Alpha, Rhys always fought.

He’d won two years running, establishing his dominance without much fuss. Tonight, though, the air felt heavier. The second the moon broke over the tree line, a sharp, hungry ache flared deep in his chest. It was urgent.

It felt as though his wolf knew a secret Rhys was still trying to ignore. He discovered exactly what that secret was the moment he stepped past the gates and onto the packed dirt.

Sebastian was standing at the very edge of the crowd. He had his arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes locked onto the center of the ring. He was watching Rhys with an intensity that made the roar of the spectators fade into background static.

Vampires didn't attend the Trials. It wasn't their culture, and they usually despised the noise.

Yet there Sebastian was, right against the front railing, perfectly still. The moment their eyes met, Rhys’s inner wolf surged forward so hard his knees nearly buckled. Mine, the voice in his chest whispered, heavy and certain. He came for you. Claim him. Rhys shook his head hard, trying to clear the fog from his brain.

He forced his focus toward his opponent—Grier, a massive, broad-shouldered wolf from the Ashford pack. Grier was easily the most dangerous challenger on the roster this semester. The whistle blew. The crowd erupted. For the first three minutes, Rhys relied on pure muscle memory.

He fought the way he always did—sharp, fast, and completely vicious. Then Grier caught him with a heavy blindside hook.

The blow sent Rhys skidding across the dirt, coughing up dust. For one dizzying second, Rhys looked up through the haze. Sebastian was leaning over the wooden barrier, his fingers gripping the top rail so tightly the thick wood groaned under the pressure.

His eyes had gone entirely black, stripped of their usual cold indifference. Get up," Sebastian commanded. His voice cut cleanly across the chaotic din of the arena. It wasn't loud, but it possessed a strange, primal authority that struck Rhys right in the center of his chest. Get up, Calloway."Hearing Sebastian use his name like that—not with a smirk, not with that bored sarcasm, but with a sharp, desperate edge that sounded terrifyingly like fear—lit a fire in Rhys’s veins that no amount of training ever could. He pushed himself up out of the dirt.

He fought harder, faster, and more recklessly than he ever had in his life. Three minutes later, Grier was pinned flat on his back in the dirt, gasping for air. The crowd was screaming Rhys's name, but he didn't care about the trophy.

He didn't care about the ranking. He was already moving, pushing his way through the surging crowd toward the railing where Sebastian stood. His chest heaved, his skin was slick with sweat, and every single instinct in his body was pulling him toward a single point of gravity. What are you doing here?" Rhys demanded, stopping right in front of him.

They were so close he could smell that rich cathedral scent cutting through the copper tang of blood and sweat. I don't know," Sebastian admitted. It was the first time Rhys had ever heard those words leave the vampire's mouth.

"I told myself I wasn't coming. I stayed in my room until ten. Then I came anyway."

"You hate wolf events."

"I don't hate you," Sebastian said. The words came out rough, almost involuntary, as if they’d been trapped behind his teeth for months.

"I have never hated you. I don't even know what I've been doing, pretending otherwise."

Around them, the stadium was deafening. People were cheering, drinking, completely oblivious to the shift occurring right at the baseline.

For Rhys, the world had gone entirely silent. You're my mate," Rhys said. Three years of careful emotional walls simply crumbled, leaving him raw.

"Aren't you? That's what this is. That's why I can't look away from you. Why my wolf loses its mind every time you walk into a room. Why you smell like..."

"Home," Sebastian finished softly. "Yes. I've known for two weeks. I just didn't know how to tell you without watching you sprint in the opposite direction."

"I don't run from anything."

"You literally bolted out of the library last Tuesday."

"That was a strategy."

"You growled at a sophomore over a coffee order, Rhys."Rhys went rigid. "Milo told you that?"

"Everyone told me that," Sebastian said. A tiny, incredibly rare shadow of a smile touched the corner of his lips.

"You are, for the record, the least subtle Alpha on this campus."

"And you're the most frustrating vampire I've ever met. Somehow, the universe still decided we belong together.

The joke is on both of us." Sebastian reached out. His movement was slow, deliberate, giving Rhys every opportunity to back away. He brushed his thumb along Rhys's jawline, right where a purple bruise from Grier's fist was already beginning to form. His skin was incredibly cool against Rhys's feverish face.

Rhys leaned into the touch before he could think better of it, a deep, restless part of his soul finally going quiet. I spent three years hating the idea of you," Sebastian murmured, his gaze dropping to Rhys's mouth.

"Mainly because it was much easier than admitting what I actually wanted."

"And what do you want?"

"You," Sebastian said simply. "Inconveniently. Completely." Rhys’s heart slammed against his ribs.

"That is disgustingly romantic for someone who called me a gnat during orientation."

"I called you feral. There's a distinct difference."

"It's the same energy."

"It really isn't."

"Are we seriously doing this right now?" Rhys laughed, the sound bubbling up despite the adrenaline, despite the two centuries of family blood feuds standing between them like iron bars.

"You're arguing with me while holding my face."

"I'm finding," Sebastian whispered, leaning in closer, his breath cool against Rhys's lips, "that I quite like arguing with you. I intend to do it for a very long time."

"Good," Rhys breathed, closing the remaining distance. He was done waiting. Done pretending. He kissed him right there against the wooden railing, and the wolf in his chest finally stopped fighting.

Somewhere out in the crowd, Milo's voice cut through the noise, loud and deeply obnoxious. "FINALLY! I've had fifty bucks on them since October!"Neither of them looked back. Two hundred years of bad blood, one full moon, and a very stubborn Alpha later, Rhys Calloway finally claimed his mate.

The quiet wouldn't last, of course. Tomorrow, the Ashford pack would want revenge for the humiliation in the ring, and the Vale family would eventually find out their sole heir had just aligned himself with a werewolf. But as Rhys smiled against Sebastian’s mouth, he decided that tomorrow was someone else's problem.