Marked By Moonlight
1263 Words
I woke to softness.
Not the hard-packed ground I expected, not the cold sting of blood and dirt and ash. But warmth. Clean linen. A pillow under my head.
For a long moment, I didn’t move.
My mind replayed flashes in jagged, painful bursts—Ari’s snarl, her jaws at my throat, the rogue’s glowing blue eyes, the chanting—yee naaldlooshii—and then nothing.
Was I dead?
A door creaked open.
“You’re awake.”
The voice was low. Rough velvet. Familiar.
Koda.
I blinked slowly, turning my head toward him. His face was half in shadow, but I could still see it—the relief there. Real. Raw.
“I’m glad you’re alive,” he said, stepping closer. “You scared the s**t out of me.”
I tried to speak, but my throat made a dry, broken sound.
He was beside me in two strides. “Don’t try to talk,” he murmured. “Your throat—she ripped into it. It was bad. You were taken before we could get to you. I saw it happen. All of it.”
I blinked again, swallowing slowly.
So it wasn’t a dream. She really tried to kill me. And I really was taken.
I shifted under the covers and instantly regretted it. My body felt like it had been thrown off a cliff, every muscle stiff and sore, like I’d aged a century overnight.
He reached out to help me sit, and when his hand brushed my arm—electricity.
A literal spark. Skin to skin.
I inhaled sharply.
So did he. His eyes flicked to mine, pupils dilating, mouth parting slightly.
Did you feel that too?
He didn’t say it. He didn’t have to.
I tried to push him away. My pride demanded it. But my body was limp, useless. He didn’t argue—just slipped his arm under my shoulders and eased me upright.
“This way,” he murmured, leading me slowly to a bathroom.
The mirror was the first thing I saw.
I almost wished I hadn’t.
Bruises bloomed across my collarbone and ribs. My eyes were shadowed, lips split, hair tangled into something feral. But it was the bandage at my throat that stopped me.
I reached up, peeled it back.
The skin beneath was jagged and red. Torn flesh. Bite marks.
My stomach rolled. She almost killed me.
I glanced at the shower and then to Koda, trying to speak. Nothing. Just a dry, pathetic rasp.
He followed my gaze, then nodded. “I got it.”
Steam rose as he turned the knobs, adjusting the water. Then he stepped toward me. My heart kicked.
I was only wearing his shirt.
Nothing underneath.
His fingers moved to the hem. I didn’t stop him. I couldn’t. Shifting meant nudity. I knew that. Everyone knew that. But I hadn’t shifted. I was still… me. Still separate. Still human.
And no one but Boris had ever seen me like this.
He lifted the shirt slowly, carefully, his fingers brushing the curve of my waist, my hips, my thighs.
He didn’t leer. Didn’t speak.
But the moment was intimate in a way that set my nerves alight.
The water called to me like sanctuary.
I stepped in, wincing as heat licked at my bruises. I closed my eyes, letting it rinse away the dirt, the blood, the fear—
Clothes rustled behind me.
I turned just in time to see Koda step into the shower.
Naked.
He was…
Moonlight made muscle.
Tattoos snaked up his arm and across his shoulder, disappearing up his throat like smoke. He was hard lines and quiet power, and he was beautiful.
And… semi-hard.
My stomach fluttered. My body ached. This is too much. Too close.
I opened my mouth to protest—
Darkness pinpricked the edges of my vision. I swayed.
Koda was there in a second, arms wrapping around me before I could fall.
“Easy,” he murmured. “You can’t even stand. You need me.”
God, I hated that he was right.
But I hated it less when he held me like this.
“Hey,” he said after a beat, washing the sweat and blood from my arm with gentle hands. “Remember when you challenged me in class? Thought you were so tough.”
I narrowed my eyes at him.
Still am.
He grinned. “Yeah, yeah. You kicked Ari’s ass. I saw it. But the second she shifted…”
His voice caught. “I thought you were gone.”
I watched his jaw tighten as he soaped my skin, sliding over my ribs, my arms, even my thighs.
Everywhere he touched, I felt electric.
Then his lips brushed the uninjured side of my throat.
“Thank the moon goddess you’re still here.”
My breath caught.
Something inside me warmed. Not lust—though it pulsed beneath the surface—but something more dangerous.
Trust.
When he was done, he turned to shut off the water. I stopped him with a weak hand and gestured for him to turn around.
He raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”
I nodded. He turned. Slowly.
I washed him.
Hands shaking, I lathered soap over his broad shoulders, the ridges of muscle along his back. His breath deepened. He closed his eyes. Relaxed into it.
My fingers slid down his spine, over his hips. He stood still as stone, letting me explore. Letting me care for him.
I rose onto my toes to reach his hair, massaging in the soap, brushing wet strands away from his eyes.
Everything felt like it was balancing on a thread—too fragile, too new.
“Koda,” I wanted to say. “I don’t know what this is.”
But I couldn’t speak.
So instead, I hugged him. Pressed myself to his chest.
And that’s when I felt it.
Hard. Thick. Against my stomach.
He groaned low, almost a growl. My fingers brushed against it.
He hissed.
I pulled back.
No. Not yet. Not like this.
We both knew it.
He turned off the water. Dried off in silence. I stepped out after him, wrapping a towel around myself, catching my reflection—
My bruises were gone.
I blinked.
Gone.
Even the deep, purple mess across my ribs. My throat felt better. I pulled the bandage off and gasped.
Healed. Smooth.
I swallowed.
“Thank you,” I rasped. “For taking care of me.”
Koda turned sharply. Eyes wide. “You can talk?”
I nodded. “The bruises. They’re gone.”
I stepped closer, showing him.
His eyes dropped. Heat sparked in them again, but I held his gaze until he understood. Not like that. Look closer.
“You’re healed,” he breathed. “That’s… impossible.”
I went to grab a towel but his hands stopped me.
“Let me take care of you one more time.”
He dried me gently. Like I was made of glass. Like I was precious.
Then he pulled a clean T-shirt over my head—another one of his.
“I like seeing you in my clothes,” he said softly. Then, like it was nothing, he picked up a brush and began working through my hair.
Slow. Careful.
Then a kiss to my forehead.
And just like that, I was undone.
I didn’t know what to make of this Koda.
This soft one. This real one.
I’d wanted to fight him since the moment we met.
But now I wasn’t sure if I wanted to fight him…
Or fall.
- Writer
