My Sister's Mate

Brush Of Storms

I woke expecting silence.

Not peace, just silence. The kind that clings to your ribs after punishment, like it’s waiting to see if you’ll break again. But instead of silence, there was a knock.

Then came Lena’s voice, grinning, too awake for the hour. “Ava, rise and stumble. You’ve been upgraded.”

I blinked groggily as she leaned against the doorframe, tray in one hand, folded paper in the other.

“Supply duty’s officially over,” she announced. “Effective immediately, you’re back on training rotation. And before you ask, yes, you’re moving back into the main house. Before dusk.”

I sat up. “What?”

She smirked. “Courtesy of the Alpha.”

My throat tightened. “Kieran?”

“No, the other brooding tower of doom we keep around,” she said with a wink. “Yes, him. Apparently, you’re to be well, rested and ready. He even signed it.”

I stared at the note as she handed it over, clean script, the Alpha’s seal, and two damning words: Be prepared.

For what exactly, I wasn’t sure. But I was starting to suspect rest wouldn’t be part of it.

“Eat,” Lena said, setting the tray beside me. “You’ve got twenty minutes before you’re tossed back to the wolves.”

The training field shimmered with morning dew, blades of grass catching the light like tiny weapons. I stepped onto the edge of the ring feeling like a cracked blade pretending to be whole.

Lena walked ahead of me, already tugging her gloves on. She was like fire on the field, sharp, cocky, impossible to ignore.

Sebastian called the first formation.

I flinched.

He was already barking corrections, eyes scanning the field like a hawk sighting prey.

“Lena, if your posture droops any lower, I’ll assume you’re napping.”

“If you keep glaring like that, your face might freeze,” she shot back. “But then again, maybe that’s your default setting.”

He didn’t smile, but something flickered in his eyes, a twitch of amusement. Or maybe annoyance. With Sebastian, it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

“Try engaging your blade instead of your mouth.”

“I am engaging. Just not in the way you’d like.”

He moved past her, silent. But his steps slowed just a little.

Selene appeared at my side like a ghost. “Don’t mind them,” she murmured. “They’ve been pretending not to flirt for years.”

“I’m not sure what part of that was flirting.”

“Exactly,” she said. “Now fix your grip before he notices.”

I tried. Gods, I tried. But my movements were clumsy. My stance? Wobbly. Every muscle felt like it belonged to someone else.

A hand appeared at my elbow. Steady. Warm.

“You’re off, balance,” said a low voice.

Kieran.

I froze. His touch was barely there, but it sent a jolt straight through me. He didn’t look at me, not fully, just adjusted my foot with the toe of his boot, then my arm.

“Too tense. You’ll injure yourself.”

His fingers brushed mine, brief, clinical, devastating. My pulse scattered like startled birds.

He stepped away without waiting for thanks. Just nodded once and moved on.

And yet I stayed there a moment longer, pretending I wasn’t replaying that single touch over and over like a fool.

The sun dipped lower as training ended, painting the sky in molten oranges and bruised purples. I was sweat, slicked, sore, and more alive than I’d felt in weeks.

We returned to the main house just before dinner, where Selene, Lena, and I dropped my things off and made our way to Paige’s chambers.

Her rooms were always warm and softly lit, full of dried herbs, worn books, and the faint scent of lavender and sage. She welcomed us with her usual grace, beckoning us toward the low table already set for dinner.

“You look like you’ve been to war,” Paige said mildly as I sat.

“Training,” I groaned.

“She means Sebastian,” Lena added, plopping down beside me. “Mum, I think his sword has a vendetta against my ribs.”

Selene smirked. “I think you have a vendetta against his authority.”

Paige laughed, handing Lena a warm roll. “You two need a duel that ends with a confession.”

“Ugh,” Lena grunted. “I’d rather stab myself with a spoon.”

“Was he especially harsh today dear?” Paige asked gently.

“He was his usual glacier, hearted self,” Lena muttered. “Though I swear he watched me spar twice. Just stood there pretending not to care.”

Selene raised an eyebrow. “And how did that make you feel?”

“Like flipping him off with both hands,” Lena griped. “He corrected my form fourteen times.”

Paige chuckled softly and turned to me. “And you, Ava?”

I paused. “Better than I expected. Worse than I hoped.”

“Good,” Paige said, patting my hand. “That means you’re learning.”

Before I could respond, a knock cut me off.

One of Julia’s maids stood at the threshold, stiff, backed and formal.

“The Luna requests Ava’s presence in her quarters. Immediately.”

Paige’s warmth faded a fraction. “Everything alright?” she asked.

I nodded, standing. “Probably just protocol stuff.”

But I didn’t miss the warning glance Lena sent my way.

Julia’s chambers were exactly as cold as her smile.

She didn’t offer me a seat. Didn’t offer tea. Just stood by the fireplace like a carved statue.

“You’ll report here tomorrow morning. First light,” she said.

“For the briefing?” I asked.

Her eyes flicked to me, sharp and assessing. “No, for conditioning. For polish. For something close to competence.”

I flinched, barely, but she noticed.

“You’ll be standing beside the Alpha when the envoy arrives. Do you understand what that means? You will be watched, Ava. Scrutinized. And should you falter, should you so much as fidget, the stain won’t fall on you alone. It will reflect on him. On me. On Dad. On this entire pack.”

My jaw tightened. “I won’t embarrass you.”

“I sincerely hope not,” she said, voice silk over steel. “You’re a liability. A wild card. That’s why I will spend every spare moment between now and the envoy’s arrival chipping away at whatever stubborn corners you insist on hiding behind.”

“I understand,” I said, though the words tasted like stone.

Julia studied me for a beat longer, eyes gleaming like frost. “Dismissed.”

The halls were quiet when I left her chambers.

Quiet enough that I nearly missed the figure rounding the corner, until we collided.

Hard.

My breath hitched.

Kieran.

We froze, inches apart. His hand caught my arm, always that same place, always that same heat.

“Sorry,” I murmured, my voice barely audible.

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Just stared at me like I was a riddle that had suddenly changed all its answers.

Then, slowly, his hand slid down my arm.

And I didn’t stop him.

“I shouldn’t…” he began, voice low, rough. “But I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t matter.”

I swallowed hard, pulse roaring in my ears. “Then stop pretending.”

Something flickered in his expression, tension, want, something primal and barely restrained. The air between us tightened like a bowstring.

He stepped closer.

I didn’t retreat.

“Ava,” he said my name like it hurt. Like it meant more than it should.

My breath caught as he raised a hand to my face, hesitated, then let it fall away like he didn’t trust himself.

“If you were anyone else,” he whispered, “I’d already have you against this wall.”

“And if you weren’t my sister's mate,” I said, “I wouldn’t mind.”

His eyes darkened. His breath hitched. And then,

“Ahem.”

I jolted apart like a struck wire.

Julia stood at the end of the corridor, arms folded, gaze unreadable.

“I see you’ve found something more… engaging than your assignment, Ava.”

I could feel the heat rushing to my cheeks, could feel Kieran shift beside me, spine straightening.

But it was too late. The storm had seen us.

And judging by her eyes, it was about to break.