Forbidden By The Moon

— Dani The airport windows glow with the soft gold of early winter light, but my stomach is a knot of nerves I can’t explain. I tell myself it’s just the long flight ahead, or the excitement of spending the holidays in Switzerland with my best friend. But the truth is simpler. And far more dangerous. Alaric is coming. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, pretending to study the departure board while Alana chatters beside me about the cabin, the snow, the chocolate, the ridiculous number of sweaters she packed. I nod and smile, but my pulse is a steady, traitorous drumbeat. It’s been months since I last saw him. Months since I told myself I was over the strange, breath‑stealing awareness I feel whenever he’s near. Months since I convinced myself that whatever… pull… exists between us is just in my head. He’s my best friend’s father. He’s my Alpha. He’s off‑limits in every way that matters. And yet my heart still stumbles at the thought of him. “Dani, are you even listening?” Alana nudges me with her elbow. “Of course,” I lie, forcing a grin. “You were saying something about… mittens?” She narrows her eyes. “You’re acting weird.” I open my mouth to deny it, but the air shifts behind us — a subtle change in pressure, a ripple of energy that brushes over my skin like a warm hand. I don’t have to turn around to know who it is. Alaric. His presence is unmistakable. It always has been. Strong. Controlled. Quietly commanding. The kind of presence that makes the world feel smaller, tighter, like everything else fades into background noise. I inhale slowly, steadying myself before I turn. And there he is. Tall, broad‑shouldered, dressed in a dark coat that fits him too well. His hair is slightly tousled from the wind, a few strands falling over his forehead. His eyes — that deep, storm‑gray that always seems to see too much — lock onto mine the moment I face him. The impact is instant. Sharp. Unavoidable. Heat curls low in my stomach, and I hate how fast it happens. How automatic. How impossible to control. “Dani.” His voice is low, smooth, and far too steady for the way I feel. “It’s good to see you.” I swallow. “You too, Alaric.” His gaze lingers a second too long. Or maybe I imagine it. I always tell myself I imagine it. Alana throws her arms around him, oblivious to the tension threading the air. “Dad! Finally. You’re late.” “Traffic,” he says, but his eyes flick back to me again, as if checking that I’m still there. As if he’s been waiting to see me too. I look away quickly, pretending to adjust my bag strap. This is fine. I’m fine. I can handle a week in a cabin with him. A week of shared meals, shared space, shared air. A week of pretending I don’t feel the way I feel. Alaric steps closer, his voice dropping just enough that only I can hear it. “You look well.” The words shouldn’t affect me. They’re simple. Polite. Nothing more. But the way he says them — quiet, warm, almost… gentle — sends a shiver down my spine. “Thanks,” I manage, my voice barely steady. “You too.” His lips curve, not quite a smile, but something softer. Something dangerous. Alana claps her hands. “Okay! Let’s go. Switzerland awaits.” Alaric steps back, giving her his attention, but I feel the ghost of his gaze on me even as he turns away. And in that moment, I know the truth I’ve been avoiding. This trip is going to be a problem. A beautiful, impossible, heart‑racing problem. And I’m not sure I want to avoid it anymore.