His Possessive Luna

Winter Is Coming!

Chapter 3 — Jane's POV (edited)

Autumn has arrived. Every morning, the valley looks like a bride in a golden veil. Most people think of autumn as an ending — leaves dying, trees drying out — but there's a strange beauty to it, a calm nothing else matches. I love autumn. Just not with exams attached.

I can't believe mid-terms are already this week. It feels like we just finished finals. We're getting close to our last semester, and I'm excited and sad in equal measure.

Looking around the corridors, the classrooms, the library, the lawn — it all hits me with nostalgia. Every memory from my first day here comes rushing back. I never liked this school, but the thought of leaving still stings. I might actually cry.

"Why do we always have exams the second something exciting happens?" Ray asks, sipping her coffee.

What's exciting, I ask.

"The Claiming Ceremony. Is there anything more exciting than that?"

You're marked. Why are you even excited?

"Because I get to see so many Alphas and Betas, obviously."

Like that's going to improve our lives.

"Whatever — I'm mostly excited about the Blood Moon Alpha. He's choosing a mate. Let's see who the lucky girl is."

Lucky? Everyone knows how dangerous he is. Whoever ends up with him is signing up for a miserable life. I already feel sorry for her.

"Who cares how dangerous he is — he's hot, and he's the richest man alive. His empire grows every week."

I'm more concerned about my own father's business, which unfortunately doesn't grow every week, because he never has time for it. He's always buried in pack duties, sacrificing both family and business for it.

"Your father owns a billion-dollar hotel and restaurant chain. What more do you want?"

"He's still not as rich as the Blood Moon Alpha," I say, half-joking.

Amelia and Jo arrive with coffee in hand. We're all worn down enough by class that only caffeine helps.

"How's exam prep going?" Amelia asks.

"Don't ask. I get a headache just looking at the books."

"Same," Ray adds.

Jo doesn't care about exams — Jo doesn't care about much of anything. She's easily the most indifferent person I know: not good at school, no real skills to speak of, except one — relationship advice. She reads people well enough that I'd bet money she ends up in the healthiest relationship of all of us.

"Let's go shopping. Winter collection just dropped," Ray suggests.

Everyone agrees. I'm done studying for the day anyway.

"Lunch first, though — that new Indian place," Ray adds.

I love spicy South Asian and Middle Eastern food, and I'm apparently the only one among my friends and family who can handle real heat.

"Not spicy Indian food. Last time my palate got wrecked," Ray protests.

"And not just your palate," Amelia jokes.

"Don't be dramatic. We'll just ask them to go light."

We pile into my car — Ray up front, Jo and Amelia in the back. Jo's already narrating someone else's relationship drama. "It was all Sarah's fault. She never made time for her mate."

That's not how it works. Relationships take effort from both sides. Every time Jo talks about a failing relationship, somehow the woman's always at fault. Sometimes I wonder if she's a low-key misogynist.

"You know, Jo, it's honestly shocking you're still single with all this relationship wisdom. You should be married with a kid by now, not the last single wolf standing. Maybe you'll get lucky at the Claiming."

"Stop being sarcastic," Jo snaps.

"I'm just stating facts."

"No one cares about facts. How much longer to the restaurant?"

"Almost there."

The restaurant turns out to be gorgeous — all mahogany tables and drapes, cozy in a way that stirs up an odd nostalgia I can't place. The menu's full of names I can't pronounce. One dish, Lahori Biryani, catches my eye — rice and chicken, the waiter explains, made with special spices.

Spices. Sold.

We order it, toned down for my friends, and discover mid-meal that the place is Pakistani, not Indian — the two are so similar it's easy to mix them up. The biryani is instantly my new favorite food. My nose runs from the spice, but it's completely worth it. I'm definitely bringing my family here.

After lunch, we head to the mall — the leftover biryani will make a good dinner. Lunch, in hindsight, was a mistake; we all overate.

We shop hard — three dresses each, plus a jacket, a sweater, two pairs of shoes.

"I'm exhausted, let's head home," I say, on the verge of collapse. My friends are nowhere near done.

"Come on, enough shopping."

"I need a dress for the ceremony. I'm not leaving without one," Jo declares.

"Same," Ray adds.

Amelia's been unusually quiet the last few days. Maybe it's exam stress, or maybe it's the fact that after graduation she's expected to marry her mate and start having kids.

"Coffee?" I ask her, and we slip away to the café.

"Why is the ceremony always in winter?" I ask.

"Maybe so everyone can cuddle after finding their mate," she says, winking.

"It's freezing. Everything's wet or frozen. I hate winter."

"Well, it's coming, so brace yourself. Not a fan either, honestly."

"You've been different lately. Is something wrong? You haven't been yourself."

Her face falls, and for a second I think she'll shut the conversation down. Instead, she opens up.

"I've felt strange. Restless. Like there's a hole in my chest I can't fill. It's driving me insane, and I don't know why."

Her voice shakes. She looks more confused than scared.

"I'm no expert on emotional breakdowns, but maybe it's just nerves — leaving the pack, moving somewhere new. That stuff messes with everyone. It messes with me too."

"I hope that's all it is," she says quietly. "But it feels different. A couple people told me it sounds like what you feel right before meeting a fated mate."

Crap. This is bad. She already has a chosen mate, and both families are close. If a fated mate shows up out of nowhere, it's going to be an absolute mess.

"I really don't think so, Amelia. Fated mates are basically extinct. It's probably just exam stress and the pressure of graduating and leaving home all at once."

She doesn't look convinced.

I really hope it's just anxiety. Because if she's right, she's walking straight into a disaster — and as her best friend, I can't stop worrying about it.

The conversation doesn't get to finish before Jo and Ray return with our coffees.