Chapter 1 The Spark
ELARA
“Are you going to stare at the moon all night or are you going to talk to me?”
Damon’s voice is a low rumble beside my ear. It sends a shiver down my spine that has absolutely nothing to do with the cool night air. I keep my eyes fixed on the perfect, silver disc hanging in the sky. If I look at him, I know I will blush. And I have done far too much blushing tonight.
“I like the moon,” I say, my voice softer than I intend. “It’s my birthday. I’ll stare at it if I want to.”
He chuckles, a warm sound that makes the tiny hairs on my arms stand up. “It is your birthday. Eighteen years. You’re finally an adult. Ready for your first taste of cheap beer?” He nudges a plastic cup into my hand.
I finally turn to look at him. His eyes, the color of warm honey, are crinkling at the corners. A lock of dark hair has fallen across his forehead, and he has that easy, confident smile that makes half the girls in the pack lose their minds. He is the Alpha’s son. He was born with that smile.
“I think I can handle a beer, Damon. I’m not a child.”
“Could have fooled me,” he teases, leaning against the porch railing next to me. He is so close I can smell the pine and damp earth clinging to him from his last run. “You’re still waiting for your big moment. Any rumblings? A sudden urge to chase squirrels?”
The joke lands with a familiar sting. I force a smile. “No. Nothing yet.”
Wolf-less. It is the word that has defined my entire life. The secret shame of the Beta’s daughter. Everyone else shifts around thirteen, fourteen. My brother Liam was twelve. But me? Nothing. Just an empty space where a wolf should be.
“Don’t worry,” Damon says, his voice dropping a little. He bumps his shoulder against mine gently. “It will happen. The moon is full tonight. It’s your eighteenth. It’s a powerful night. If it’s ever going to happen, it’s tonight.”
I want to believe him. The hope is a tight, painful knot in my chest. I have been wishing for this night for years. Praying to the Moon Goddess that this would be the night I finally become whole. The night I finally hear my wolf’s voice in my head.
“And if it doesn’t?” I ask, the question a fragile whisper.
His smile softens. “Then you still have me. I will always protect you, Elara. You know that.”
Before I can answer, a heavy hand lands on Damon’s shoulder. “She doesn’t need your protection, Damon.”
Liam. My older brother steps between us, his body a solid wall of muscle. He is two years older, already a senior warrior, and has my father’s serious expression etched onto his face. He looks at Damon with a distinct lack of warmth.
“Easy there, Liam,” Damon says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Just wishing your sister a happy birthday.”
“I saw what you were doing,” Liam says, his voice low. “Don’t fill her head with things that might not happen. She doesn’t need the pressure.”
“It’s okay, Liam,” I say, placing a hand on my brother’s arm. “He was just being nice.”
Liam grunts, unconvinced. He has never fully trusted Damon, even though we all grew up together. He sees Damon’s ambition where I only see confidence. He sees arrogance where I see charm.
“Dad’s about to give the toast,” Liam says, his gaze still locked on Damon. “You should probably go stand next to your father. Look like the future Alpha you’re supposed to be.”
The jab is subtle but sharp. Damon’s smile tightens for a fraction of a second. “You’re right. Wouldn’t want to disappoint. Happy birthday, Elara.” He gives me a quick wink before turning and melting back into the crowd of laughing, dancing pack members in our backyard.
“I hate the way he talks to you,” Liam mutters, his shoulders relaxing now that Damon is gone.
“He’s my friend.”
“He’s the Alpha’s son,” Liam corrects. “And he never lets anyone forget it. Especially not when he’s talking about the Games.”
The Werewolf Games. The once in a decade competition of strength, strategy, and speed. It is all anyone talks about lately, especially the younger warriors. Damon is determined to lead our pack to victory this year. It is all he cares about.
“He’s just competitive,” I argue weakly.
“He’s ruthless,” Liam counters. “There’s a difference. Come on. Mom’s been trying to get your attention for five minutes.”
He leads me back into the heart of the party. Our backyard is strung with fairy lights, their soft glow illuminating the faces of our pack. The Silver Creek pack. My home. My entire world. I see my mother waving us over, her smile warm and bright. My father, the pack Beta, stands beside Alpha Marcus, Damon’s dad. They have been best friends since they were pups, a bond of loyalty that holds our pack’s leadership together.
My mother pulls me into a hug, her arms wrapping around me tightly. “There you are, sweetie. Are you having a good time?”
“I am, Mom.” I try to sound more convincing than I feel.
She pulls back, her hands cupping my face. Her eyes, the same soft brown as mine, search my face with a familiar mix of love and worry. “You are a gift, Elara, wolf or no wolf. Don’t you ever forget that.” She presses a small, velvet box into my hand. “Happy birthday.”
I open it. Inside, a delicate silver chain holds a locket shaped like a crescent moon. It is beautiful. “Mom, it’s perfect.”
“Your grandmother wore it. Now it’s yours.”
My father joins us, his strong arm wrapping around my shoulders. “Ready for your speech, birthday girl?” he asks, his voice full of pride.
“No,” I laugh. “But I guess I don’t have a choice.”
Alpha Marcus steps forward, raising his glass. The entire yard falls silent, every eye turning to us. He is a man who commands respect without having to raise his voice. His presence is enough.
“Tonight, we celebrate a special birthday,” he begins, his voice booming across the lawn. “Elara, daughter of my Beta and my trusted friend, turns eighteen. She has grown into a strong, compassionate young woman who embodies the heart of this pack.”
My face burns. I am not used to being the center of attention. I can feel dozens of eyes on me, some kind, some pitying. The wolf-less girl. The broken one.
“To Elara,” my father says, his voice thick with emotion. He raises his own glass. “May this year bring you everything you have ever hoped for.”
Everyone cheers, a chorus of “To Elara!” that echoes through the trees. I take a sip of the beer Damon gave me, the taste bitter on my tongue. The hope in my father’s voice is a heavy weight. He means my wolf. They all do.
As the toast ends, the music starts up again. A slow song drifts through the air. I watch as pack couples find each other, swaying together under the lights. I feel a familiar pang of loneliness. Mates. Most find their fated mates shortly after their first shift. It is a connection I have only ever read about, a bond I fear I will never experience.
“May I have this dance, birthday girl?”
Damon is back. He holds out his hand, that charming smile firmly in place. I look over at Liam, who is already scowling from across the lawn. I ignore him.
“I’d love to,” I say, placing my hand in his.
His hand is warm and firm around mine. He leads me to an open space on the grass and pulls me close. His other hand rests on the small of my back, sending a jolt of electricity through me. My breath hitches. I have known Damon my entire life. We learned to walk together. We built forts in these woods. So why does his touch suddenly feel so different? So charged?
“See?” he murmurs, his lips close to my ear again. “Not so bad, is it?”
“It’s fine,” I manage to say, my heart hammering against my ribs.
We move together in easy silence for a moment. I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It feels safe. It feels right. I have spent my whole life feeling like a piece of me is missing. But here, in his arms, the empty space feels a little smaller.
“You seem tense,” he says softly.
“Just a lot on my mind.”
“Still worried about your furry friend?”
I nod against his chest. “I just want to be normal, Jax. I want to run with the pack. I want to feel what you all feel. I want a wolf.”
He tightens his grip slightly. “I know you do. But listen to me. Your strength isn't about having a wolf, Elara. It never has been. You’re smarter than half the warriors in this pack. You’re kinder than all of them put together. That matters more than claws or teeth.”
His words are a soothing balm on a raw wound. I pull my head back to look at him, to thank him. But as my eyes meet his, the world tilts on its axis.
It happens in an instant. A lightning strike without a storm. A fire that consumes me from the inside out. A shockwave of energy starts in my chest and explodes through every nerve in my body. The air is suddenly thick with a scent I have never noticed before, a dizzying mix of pine, spice, and something that is purely, intoxicatingly Damon.
His eyes widen in shock, the honey gold deepening to a molten blaze. I see my own reflection in his pupils, my expression a mirror of his own stunned disbelief. A voice, primal and possessive and not my own, screams a single word in my mind.
Mate.
The word echoes in the sudden, roaring silence of my thoughts. It is not my voice. It is the voice I have been waiting my entire life to hear. It is here. It is real. But it is not a wolf. It is something else, something tied directly to the man standing in front of me.
The music, the lights, the entire party fades away into a distant blur. There is only Damon. The connection between us is a physical thing, a brilliant, shimmering cord pulling us together. I can feel his shock, his confusion, his overwhelming awe. And he can feel mine.
My legs feel weak. I stumble, and he catches me, his hands gripping my arms. His touch sends another searing wave of energy through me.
“Elara?” he breathes, his voice rough with an emotion I cannot name.
I cannot speak. I can only stare at him, my world completely and irrevocably changed. The mate bond. The one thing I was sure I would never have. With him. The future Alpha.
He seems to shake himself out of his stupor. The sounds of the party slowly begin to filter back in. Someone laughs nearby. I hear my brother call my name, his voice laced with concern.
Damon ignores it all. His eyes are still locked on mine. He slowly lifts a hand, his fingers tracing my jawline with a touch so gentle it makes me tremble.
“You,” he whispers, the sound full of wonder. “It’s you.”
A breathless laugh escapes my lips, a sound of pure, unadulterated shock. My wolf may be silent, but the Moon Goddess has answered my prayers in a way I never could have imagined.
He leans in closer, his forehead resting against mine. The scent of him is overwhelming, and I feel a desperate pull to be closer, to close the final inch between us.
“My mate,” he says, and the words settle deep in my soul, healing cracks I never knew I had.
I am not broken. I am not incomplete. I am his.
In this moment, under the light of the full moon on my eighteenth birthday, a fragile, hopeful joy blooms in my chest. Everything is going to be okay. Everything is going to be perfect.