Chapter 6 – The Girl Offstage
1167 Words
By the third song, my cheeks hurt from pretending I wanted to be here.
Tidewatch sparkled. Wolves in silk and polished leather twirled under the lights, glasses flashed, cameras clicked. The band swayed into a slow number, and couples flowed together like they’d been choreographed since birth.
“Come on,” Brinla hissed at my elbow. “At least one dance. I spent forty minutes on your eyeliner, you are not wasting it in the medical corner.”
“I am medical corner,” I said, lifting my glass of water. “Watch me fulfill my destiny.”
“You’re impossible.” She rolled her eyes, then followed my gaze. “Oh.”
Jared was crossing the floor toward us, cutting a line through the crowd without trying. Wolves parted around him, shoulders turning, attention snagging like metal to a magnet.
He looked like Tidewatch’s future: tall, composed, dangerous enough to be interesting, safe enough to trust your children with. Aldric’s chosen Beta. Gamma‑candidate. Perfect.
For a second, I remembered when that future had had room for me beside him.
“Luna,” he said when he reached us, smiling like nothing in the world was wrong. “May I steal you for a moment?”
Brinla made a face only I could see and melted into the crowd.
I lifted a brow. “Clinic emergencies? Did someone faint from too much champagne?”
“Not yet.” His fingers brushed my forearm, a light, practiced touch. “Dance with me.”
Half the room might as well have turned their heads. The air shifted—interest, speculation, the pack’s favorite game: What does this mean?
“Jared,” I said under my breath. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he said, and for a heartbeat I believed him.
He led me onto the dance floor, hand finding the small of my back, the other taking my free one. The band eased into a different slow song, strings soft as silk.
We fit together easily. Years of practice will do that.
“You look beautiful,” he murmured.
“Careful,” I said lightly. “Someone might hear you complimenting a half‑wolf in public. Think of the optics.”
He winced. “Lunara.”
“You started it,” I said. “With the whole ‘we’re about packs, not people’ speech.”
He exhaled through his nose, drawing me a fraction closer. “Can we not fight? Just for one song?”
The thing was, I didn’t want to fight. I wanted to close my eyes and pretend this was simple. That the only thing that mattered was the warmth of his palm between my shoulder blades and the familiarity of his scent.
I let him guide us into a slow turn, dress whispering around my legs.
“Fine,” I said. “One song. No politics.”
He chuckled. “Deal.”
We moved in silence for a few beats, the room a blur of color and sound. My muscles remembered this: the give and take, the subtle shifts to avoid other couples, the way he always led half a beat early.
“You scared me last night,” he said quietly, breaking his own rule. “When I saw the footage from the dash cam and realized how close you were to the edge.”
“Those cameras have terrible angles,” I said. “You couldn’t see the part where I was very professional and not at all panicking.”
“I know you, Lunara.” His jaw worked. “You’d rather fall than let go.”
“Letting go of a patient over a cliff is generally frowned upon,” I said. “Even for half‑wolves.”
His grip tightened, then eased. “Stop.”
The word wasn’t an order. It was a plea.
I swallowed the comeback. Let the music fill the spaces between us.
When the song ended, I stepped back, breaking the contact neatly. Applause rippled around the room as the band shifted tempo again.
“Thank you,” Jared said, as if we’d exchanged something profound.
“Anytime,” I lied.
He opened his mouth like he wanted to say more, then his gaze snagged over my shoulder. His scent sharpened.
I turned.
Sylra Moonsand glided toward us, all silver silk and luminous skin, her wolf riding high just beneath the surface. Her hair fell in loose waves down her back, catching the light like a waterfall. The Tidewatch crest glittered at her throat.
If I was a background note, she was the chorus.
“Beta,” she said to Jared, voice smooth as cream. “Alpha is asking for you. There’s a delegation from Seamist you should greet.”
Jared’s hand fell from my waist. “Of course.” He hesitated, glancing between us. “Lunara—”
“I’ve got patients to check on,” I said before he could offer some polite dismissal. “Go. Be important.”
Something like guilt flickered across his face. Then he nodded and let Sylra take his arm.
She gave me a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Lovely dress, Lunara. Blue suits you.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Silver suits you.”
She laughed softly, turning away with Jared toward the cluster of Alphas near the front.
I watched as Aldric beckoned them closer, clapping Jared’s shoulder, drawing him into a tight circle of power and polished smiles. Someone took a photo exactly as Sylra’s hand slipped into the crook of Jared’s elbow, perfectly framed beneath the Tidewatch banner.
The pack feed would eat it up.
I stood at the edge of the dance floor, the music suddenly too loud, the lights too bright.
“Hey.”
Brinla reappeared at my side, eyes following my gaze. “They’re working the room. It’s politics, not—”
“Not personal,” I finished for her. “I know.”
“You could work the room too,” she said. “You’re allowed to exist, you know.”
“Am I?” I asked lightly. “Because from where I’m standing, the story looks pretty full without me.”
She opened her mouth, closed it again.
“I’m going to check the med station,” I said before she could find words. “Make sure no one’s dying of decorative exhaustion.”
“Luna—”
“I’ll be fine.” I squeezed her hand. “Go enjoy the gala. Somebody should.”
I slipped away, weaving through wolves and crystal and laughter, heading for the quiet corner where the first‑aid kit waited.
Behind me, the pack’s story glittered on in bright, curated colors.
I’d decided a long time ago I could live being the girl offstage.
I just hadn’t expected that the only one who’d said my name like it mattered would be the monster from the wrong side of the border.
- Writer
