Chapter 13 Rowan's Invitation
Malia’s POV
Halfway through cleaning up after Werewolf Literature, Rowan is standing beside my desk.
“Hey,” he says, that gentle smile already in place.
“Hi.” I zip my bag and try to disregard the curious glances from some students nearby.
“Well, I know you’ve had a rough week—”
“Understatement,” I mutter.
His smile softens with sympathy. “I was thinking…perhaps you could use a change of scenery? A quiet place, far away from all the racket?”
I hesitate. After everything with Lydia, the rumors, the graffitied locker, I’m not sure hanging out with a Moonfall more is a smart move.
It’ll only make things worse.
But Rowan is looking at me with such perfect kindness that I could never say no to him.
“Where were you thinking?”
“The greenhouse. It is on the east side of campus, where most of the students do not even know that it exists. We could study there for a while. It’s nice.”
Quiet sounds like something I need right now.
“Okay,” I say. “Show me.”
—----
The greenhouse, concealed behind the botanical sciences building, is reached via a narrow stone walkway blanketed in ivy. I gasp as Rowan pushes open the glass door.
It's beautiful.
Sunlight filters through the overhead glass panels, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. Plants occupy every shelf and cranny—some I know, many I don’t. Vines climb trellises, flowers bloom in impossible hues, and the air is scented with dirt and growing things.
“This is incredible,” I breathe.
Rowan grins, obviously happy with my reaction. "I found it last year. Came here on a day when I was just really down and out and... never left. “Now, it’s sort of my sanctuary.”
He takes me further in - beyond rows of herbs and flowering plants - to a tiny clearing where a wooden bench and table sit.
The table is ringed with moonflowers — pale, radiant petals that look as if they’re lit from within, even when viewed in the sunshine.
"Moonflowers," I whisper, running my fingers across a single fragile petal.
"They only flower at night," Rowan says as he sits on the bench. "But they're sacred to our kind. They’re an ingredient in mating ceremonies, full moon rituals, and healing practices.”
I sit down next to him, and set my bag down. "I didn't know that."
“Most of wolf lore isn’t taught anymore. Too traditional, the Council said.” He pulls his textbook out. “But I think it’s important. Just to have that sense of knowing where we come from.”
We find a comfortable pace — one of us studying, then the other, occasionally posing a query, the serene quietude actually lending itself to concentration.
After about an hour, Rowan puts his book down.
"Can I ask you something?" he says.
"Sure."
"What was your life like? Before Mooncrest? "
The question surprises me.
People rarely inquire about my past - they either don't care or think it is too painful a story to tell.
“It was…complex,” I say tentatively.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
But surprisingly, I do want to.
Perhaps it's the greenhouse—the security of this subterranean place. Maybe it’s Rowan—how he listens as though what I say matters.
"My mom died when I was still very little,” I say softly. “My dad remarried a year later. My stepmother… she wasn’t cruel, exactly. Just cold and indifferent."
Rowan’s face softens.
“She had two daughters from an earlier marriage. Both are purebloods. Beautiful, strong, everything I wasn’t.” I run my finger in a design across the table. “I was the reminder that my dad had married beneath their station the first time. A hybrid daughter from a ‘weak’ bloodline. Then he died too…and somethings changed.”
“That's not fair,” Rowan says under his breath.
I shrug. “Fair doesn’t matter in our world. You know that.”
"That doesn't make it right."
“No,” I agree. “But that’s how it is.”
“Is that why you pushed so hard to get here? To prove something?”
The question cuts deeper than I thought it would.
“Maybe,” I concede. “Or maybe I just wanted to fit in somewhere. To find a place where being half of something didn’t make me nothing.”
"For whatever that's worth, I certainly don't think you’re nothing. One of the strongest people I've met."
My throat closes up. “I’m not strong—”
“You are.” His voice is stern but gentle. “You live in a world that’s meant to wear down people like you. You keep showing up, even when everyone tells you to quit. Malia, that is strength.”
I meet his eyes—warm hazel, sincere and kind.
"Thank you," I whisper.
He reaches over and gently squeezes my hand. “Anytime.”
Our hands linked, and with moon flowers and afternoon sun surrounding us, we sit there a moment.
And since coming to Mooncrest, maybe this is the first time I ever had a feeling that I might have a place here.
No, not because of breeding or bloodline.
But because someone looks at me and decides to stick around.
—----
Instead of my study buddies, Rowan presses his phone and groans, “We study for an hour more. I have pack council prep in twenty minutes. My dad will kill me if I'm late.”
"Pack council?"
"Future alpha training," he says, rounding up his books. “Dull meetings about territorial disputes and resources allocation. The glamorous life of a Moonfall heir.”
I smile at his sarcasm. “Sounds thrilling.”
"As exciting as watching paint dry." He throws his bag over one shoulder and rises. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”
"You don't need to—"
"I want to."
We exit the greenhouse and back on campus.
The late afternoon sun began to sink toward the horizon and the shadowed fingers reached down across the pathways. They’re swapping classes, heading to the library, huddled in — you name it.
And all of them see us. Rowan Moonfall walking beside the hybrid. Talking to her! Smiling at her!!
The whispers start immediately.
"Is that Rowan?"
"With her?"
"What is he thinking?”
"Maybe it's a dare—"
"Or maybe he really likes her—”
My shoulders tighten and anxiety begins to roll back in. I told you this is what’d happen! More attention. More ammunition for Lydia.
There are even more reasons for people to hate me.
But Rowan doesn’t seem fazed at all.
He is walking at the same leisurely pace, and he points out buildings and tells me stories about campus history, as though it’s just the two of us here.
“Doesn’t this bother you?” I ask softly. “Everyone looking?”
He looks around, as if his eyes have just opened. "Not really. Let them stare."
“But—”
“Malia.” He halts and turns to face me completely. "I could care less what they think. You’re my friend. I enjoy being with you. That’s all that matters.”
There’s something almost too simple about what he’s saying. No strings attached, pure friendship.
“Thank you,” I say.
He grins. “Stop thanking me for basic werewolf decency.”
We keep walking and although the stares don’t stop, I’m feeling lighter. Rowan stops at the door as we come to my dorm building.
“Same time next week? The greenhouse is even lovelier at sunset.”
“I’d like that.”
“Good. ” He reaches out and gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze—a friendly, reassuring gesture. “And Malia? Don’t let them make you feel small. You have as much right to this place as anyone.”
Before I can say anything, he’s already gone, phone in hand, most likely texting his father about running late.
I watch him leave, warmth spreading across my chest. Then I spin around to the dorm—and stop in my tracks.
Aiden stands at our window.
I’m three floors up, but I have a perfect view of him. Arms crossed, expression dark. Looking down at what Rowan and I were just standing on.
Even at this distance I can sense the heat of his stare.
There’s a fleeting second where our eyes connect. Then he takes a step back from the window into the room.
I’m so confused why my stomach does flips.
Why does he care? He never made it a secret that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with me.
Then why does he look so pissed off every time his brothers are nice to me?
I shake my head and walk into the house, slowly going up the stairs.
When I get to our room, Aiden is at his desk, the laptop open, working, it looks like.
He makes no acknowledgment of my entry.
“Hey,” I say tentatively.
Nothing.
“Aiden—”
“How was your afternoon?” he asks, voice carefully neutral.
I blink, surprised he’s speaking at all. “It was... good. I studied with Rowan at the greenhouse.”
“I know.”
Of course he does.
He saw us.
“Is that a problem,” I ask, starting to get annoyed.
“Why would it be a problem?”
“You tell me. You’ve been acting weird whenever—”
“I haven’t been acting any way,” he interrupts, still not looking at me. “You can spend time with whoever you want.”
“Then why do you look so angry?”
Finally, he turns to face me.
His blue eyes are cold. “I'm not angry.”
“You’re very bad at lying.”
For a fleeting instant, there is something on his face—something unfiltered and torn.
But then his walls slam back up.
"Think whatever you want, Malia, I don’t give a shit."
He dismisses me with a glance and returns to his laptop. I pause in place for another second, reluctant to demand explanations but also not quite ready to walk away.
In the end it is the latter.
I’m too tired for another round with Aiden Moonfall. But when I change into my sweatpants and find a place on my bed with my book, I just can’t stop thinking about the look he gave me.
Like he had something to say but couldn’t.
Like he's battling something within himself.
And my wolf — that traitorous creature — rou
ses with interest.
Attracted by something in Aiden that she cannot comprehend. Something complex and confusing and maybe dangerous.
Stay away from him, I told her.
But she doesn’t listen. And neither, it seems, does my heart.