Five Days
Before the Full Moon
Age 22
The morning
air bit at my skin, sharp and cold, as I stood in the clearing just beyond
Silverfang Manor. The forest loomed at the edges, its shadows whispering
memories of glowing eyes and claws that I shoved down with every ounce of
willpower I had. The grass beneath my boots was damp with dew, the sky above a
muted gray that promised rain. I shifted my weight, my muscles already aching
from the tension coiling inside me. My wolf paced restlessly, her growls a
constant hum in my chest, and the pendant at my throat felt heavier than ever,
its warmth a steady pulse against my skin.
Darius stood
across from me, his presence as unyielding as the manor itself. He'd shed his
coat, leaving him in a fitted black shirt that clung to his broad shoulders,
his scarred jaw set in a hard line. His gray eyes watched me with an intensity
that made my wolf bristle, but there was something else there too—a challenge,
a belief that I could be more than the broken omega he'd rejected. I hated that
it made my heart stutter, hated that I cared what he thought at all.
"We start
with control," he said, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade. "Your
wolf is awake now, Liora, but she's wild. If you don't learn to rein her in,
she'll take over—and you'll lose yourself."
I crossed my
arms, trying to hide the tremor in my hands. "I've kept her locked away for
years," I said, my voice sharper than I meant it to be. "She didn't wake up
until you—" I stopped, the memory of his rejection slicing through me like a
fresh wound. "I can handle her."
Darius
raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "Can you?" he asked, taking a
step closer. "Because what I felt through the oath last night—what I saw in the
bookstore—says otherwise. She's not just awake, Liora. She's angry. And she's
strong."
I swallowed
hard, my wolf snarling in agreement. She was angry—at Darius, at the pack, at
me for keeping her caged. But I couldn't let her out, not fully. Not after what
had happened in the forest, not with Kael's warning about the Mafia Leader
ringing in my ears. I needed to be in control, not her.
"Fine," I
said, dropping my arms. "What do I do?"
Darius
gestured to the clearing, his movements precise, controlled. "Shift," he said.
"Partway. Just enough to feel her, to let her stretch, but not enough to lose
yourself. Focus on your breathing, on the bond between you. She's part of you,
Liora—not your enemy."
I stared at
him, my heart pounding. Shift? I hadn't let my wolf out since I was a child,
since before my father's betrayal had turned the pack against us. Omegas
weren't supposed to shift, not like alphas or betas. Our wolves were quiet,
submissive—or they were supposed to be. Mine had always been different,
stronger, fiercer, and I'd spent years burying her to survive.
"I don't
know if I can," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "What if I can't
stop her?"
"You can,"
Darius said, his tone firm but not unkind. "I'll be here. The oath binds
us—I'll pull you back if you start to slip."
I wanted to
argue, to tell him I didn't need his help, but the memory of the blood oath's
searing pain—and the way he'd caught me before I hit the ground—stopped me. I
nodded, taking a deep breath, and closed my eyes.
I reached
for my wolf, tentative at first, like touching a live wire. She surged forward,
eager, her presence a rush of heat and instinct that made my breath catch. My
nails lengthened into claws, my senses sharpening—every sound, every scent,
every heartbeat in the clearing suddenly vivid. The forest smelled of pine and
earth, Darius of storm and steel, and my own fear was a bitter tang on my
tongue. My canines ached as they grew, and a low growl rumbled in my throat,
unbidden.
"Good,"
Darius said, his voice steady, grounding. "Now hold her there. Don't let her
push further."
It was
harder than I thought. My wolf clawed at the edges of my control, desperate to
run, to fight, to howl. My knees buckled, and I dropped to the grass, my hands
digging into the earth as I fought to keep her in check. Sweat beaded on my
forehead, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The pendant pulsed, its heat
spreading through me, and I heard my mother's voice again, faint but clear: You're enough.
"Focus,
Liora," Darius said, his voice closer now. I opened my eyes to find him
kneeling in front of me, his gaze locked on mine. "Breathe. In and out. You're
stronger than she is."
I wanted to
snap at him, to tell him he had no idea how hard this was, but I clung to his
words instead. I breathed, slow and deep, picturing a tether between me and my
wolf—a thread I could pull to reel her in. She snarled, resisting, but I held
firm, my claws retracting, my canines shrinking until I was just me again,
trembling and breathless on the ground.
Darius's
hand rested on my shoulder, a brief, steadying touch that sent a jolt through
me. "You did it," he said, and there was a note of pride in his voice that made
my chest ache. "That was a good start."
I pulled
away, brushing the dirt off my hands as I stood. "A start," I muttered, my
voice hoarse. "That felt like a war."
"It will get
easier," he said, standing as well. "Your wolf is strong—stronger than I
expected for an omega. But that's a good thing. It means you have power, Liora.
You just need to learn how to use it."
Power. The
word felt foreign, wrong. I wasn't powerful. I was the traitor's daughter, the
rejected mate, the girl who'd run from her own pack. But the pendant's glow,
the way my wolf had fought to break free—it made me wonder. What if Darius was
right? What if there was something inside me, something I'd been too afraid to
see?
The rest of
the morning was a blur of exercises—running laps to build my stamina, dodging
strikes to sharpen my reflexes, focusing on my senses to track sounds and
scents in the forest. Darius was a relentless teacher, his commands sharp but
never cruel, and I found myself pushing harder than I thought I could. My
muscles burned, my lungs ached, but with every step, every movement, I felt a
spark of something new—strength, raw and untested, flickering to life inside
me.
By midday,
the clouds had thickened, a light drizzle starting to fall as we moved to
hand-to-hand combat. Darius circled me, his movements fluid, predatory, and I
mirrored him, my wolf growling softly, eager for the challenge. "Keep your
guard up," he said, lunging forward with a strike I barely blocked. "You're
faster than you think—use it."
I ducked
under his next swing, my claws itching to extend, but I held them back,
focusing on my human strength instead. I swung at him, aiming for his side, but
he caught my wrist, twisting it just enough to make me gasp. In a blur, he had
me pinned to the ground, my back against the wet grass, his weight holding me
in place.
My breath
came in short, sharp bursts, my heart racing as I stared up at him. His face
was inches from mine, his eyes dark, intense, and for a moment, I forgot how to
breathe. The bond of the oath thrummed between us, a thread of heat that made
my wolf lift her head, curious, yearning. His breath was hot on my neck as he
leaned closer, his voice a low whisper that sent a shiver down my spine.
"You're more dangerous than I thought," he said, and there was something in his
tone—something raw, unguarded—that made my stomach flip.
I froze,
caught between the urge to push him away and the inexplicable pull I felt
toward him. My wolf whined, torn between submission and defiance, and the
pendant pulsed, its light faint but steady. Darius's gaze flicked to my lips,
just for a second, and I wondered—stupidly, recklessly—if he felt the same pull
I did.
Then he
released me, standing quickly, his expression shuttering as he turned away.
"That's enough for today," he said, his voice rougher than before. "You did
well."
I sat up, my
cheeks burning, my mind a chaotic mess of anger and confusion and something I
refused to name. "Don't do that again," I said, my voice trembling but firm.
"Don't play games with me, Darius. I'm not your mate, and I'm not your toy."
He turned
back, his eyes narrowing, but there was no anger there—just a flicker of
something I couldn't read. "I'm not playing games," he said, his voice low.
"But you're right. You're not my mate. Not yet."
The words
hung in the air, heavy with meaning I wasn't ready to unpack. I stood, brushing
the grass off my clothes, and walked away without looking back, my wolf
growling softly, my heart a tangled knot of fear and hope and fury. The rain
began to fall harder, soaking through my shirt, but I didn't care. I needed
space, needed to think, needed to figure out what the hell I was becoming—and
what Darius saw in me that I couldn't see in myself.