Chapter 9 9
The water had gone lukewarm, my skin was wrinkled, and the tears had finally stopped. I pulled the plug and listened to the hollow, sucking groan as the bath drained. Stepping out, I grabbed the towel and rubbed my skin raw, trying to scrub away the feeling of his hands, Angel’s smirk, the stranger’s possessive stare. My discarded clothes were a sad pile on the rug. I pushed them into the corner with my foot, a gesture of pure disgust.
I was heading for the closet to find something clean to sleep in, but I stopped. A sliver of silver-white light cut across the dark floorboards. My gaze caught it, then lifted to the window. The curtains were only partly drawn.
I walked over, my bare feet silent on the wood, and pulled the heavy fabric back.
It was a full moon. Not just any moon, but one of those impossibly clear, brilliant ones that looked like a hole had been punched in the sky to show the pure light behind it. It bathed the back gardens and the edge of the forest in a ghostly, blue-silver glow.
For most of the pack, it was a night of power, of running, of howling communion. For people like me—the ones still waiting, the ones considered human—it was a rare, taunting opportunity. A night when the moon’s pull was strongest, when maybe, just maybe, a dormant wolf might finally stir.
My eyes shifted from that blinding circle of light to my bed. The memory hit me like a physical blow. If this had been any other full moon over the last three years, I wouldn’t have been standing here looking at it with anything but annoyance. I’d have been curled under the covers with my phone, the glow of the screen on my face, texting Logan. I’d have ignored the call of the moon completely, opting to chat with him into the wee hours, trading silly voice notes and sleepy promises. I hadn’t cared about a wolf that didn’t want to wake up, because I’d felt like Logan was my whole world. He’d filled up every empty space.
I remembered one of those late-night talks, my face hot with shame as I finally whispered my biggest insecurity. “No Alpha will ever want a human mate.”
His response had been immediate, a scoff followed by his low, sure voice in my ear. “I don’t care about that. You’re not just any human mate. You’re you. You’re more to me than a thousand girls who found their wolves on their first moon.” We’d kissed the following day, a kiss that felt like a seal on that promise, like he was erasing my fear with the warmth of his mouth.
Now, remembering it, I didn’t feel warmth. I felt a cold, slick wave of disgust. Not just at him, but at myself. I was a big, gaping fool. I’d fallen for his sweet words like a starved animal, believing I was the exception to every rule. I’d traded the potential of my own power for the cheap comfort of his attention.
But not anymore.
The thought was a cold stone in my gut. I turned from the window. I didn’t go to the closet for pajamas. I went to my dresser and yanked out sturdy leggings, a long-sleeved shirt, and a thick hoodie. I pulled them on, the soft fabrics feeling like armor. I zipped up my boots properly.
This time, I didn’t use the doors. I went to the window, unlocked the latch, and pushed it up. The cold night air rushed in, smelling of pine and damp earth. I swung a leg over the sill, then the other, and dropped silently onto the dewy grass below. I didn’t look back. I just started running, my feet carrying me away from the house, past the manicured gardens, and into the dark mouth of the woods.
I ran until my lungs burned and the sounds of the pack house were swallowed by the forest. I found a spot I knew, a small clearing right before the land sloped down to the riverbanks. Here, the trees opened up. The full moon hung directly overhead, illuminating everything in its stark, unforgiving glory. It was so bright it cast sharp shadows, like the goddess had gone berserk with a silver paintbrush, drenching the world in her cold light.
This was it. No more excuses. No more distractions.
I dropped to my knees in the soft, mossy earth. My heart was hammering, not from the run, but from a desperate, furious hope. I got on all fours, my fingers digging into the soil. I closed my eyes and tried to reach for it—that otherness, that animal spirit that was supposed to be my birthright. I reached into the quiet, empty place inside me where my wolf should have been.
I tried to change.
Nothing. Just the ache in my muscles, the chill of the air, the humiliating stillness of my own human body.
I didn’t just attempt once, like I usually did when my mother made a half-hearted suggestion. I didn’t force myself through two painful tries like I had on those two awful occasions when I was 15 and 17, when she’d stood over me, her disappointment a thicker presence than the moonlight.
I tried again. And again. I growled through gritted teeth, my body straining until my joints protested. I focused on the moon’s power, begging it, demanding it. I tried to feel a shift under my skin, a crack in my bones, a surge of wildness in my blood.
I lost count. It must have been seven times. Seven failures. Each attempt left me more drained, more hollow than the last.
Finally, my arms gave out. I collapsed forward, my forehead pressing into the cool moss. A low, broken sound escaped me.
“I can’t do it,” I whispered to the uncaring earth. “I’m just… good for nothing.”
The truth of it washed over me, colder than the river nearby. No wonder Logan hadn’t thought twice. No wonder he’d chosen Angel, who was probably out there right now running in her sleek wolf form under this same moon in pure celebration.
What was I? A human girl with a famous last name and an empty core. A placeholder. A easy target for sweet lies.
I hung my head there in the dirt, the magnificent full moon shining down on my failure, and I couldn’t stop myself from sobbing quietly into the moss.