Chapter 25 Luna
Luna
Notebook: Healing isn’t pretty or linear. Sometimes it’s finding someone whose demons recognize yours.
My heart pounds as if it’s trying to crack my ribs open. Sweat soaks my pajamas, my sheets, and my hair.
“Just a dream,” I whisper, but my voice shakes so badly that the words break apart. “Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream.”
My hands fumble for the lamp switch before I get up and walk to the bathroom. I turn on the faucet and splash cold water on my face like I can wash away the remnants of the nightmare.
It helps a little.
“You’re okay,” I tell my reflection, water dripping from my chin. “You’re safe.”
The house’s walls suddenly feel too close, like they might collapse on me.
I need stars and sky and space.
Back in my room, I grab a throw blanket, wrap it around my shoulders, and go downstairs. The house is quiet except for distant snoring from one of the bedrooms.
I open the front door with a soft click, and the night air rushes to greet me. Cool and sweet and so, so clean. I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with pine, grass, and earth, replacing the phantom smoke from my nightmare.
Hudson had told me the guard who attacked had been working on the premises for a couple of weeks and recognized me from InstaShifter. It was an isolated incident, he’d assured me, and there was nothing to worry about.
But, between the nightmare and the attack, I needed air.
Stars punch through the darkness like tiny holes in black fabric, letting in light from some brighter place.
The mountains rise against the sky, like guardians that don’t care about my nightmares, my trauma, or that I’m standing outside in my pajamas at 3 AM.
Their indifference is comforting.
My bare feet sink into the cool grass, and I pull the blanket tighter around my shoulders, trying to soak in the peace that radiates from everything but me.
My heartbeat slows.
My breathing steadies.
The trembling in my hands subsides.
I’m so focused on my little grounding ritual that I don’t hear the footsteps. I don’t sense another presence until my warm fingers brush against my hand.
I flinch so hard I nearly trip over my blanket. My eyes fly open, body instantly coiled to fight. Axel stands beside me. He’s wearing just sweatpants, his bare chest showing the map of scars that crisscross his skin. His hair is a mess.
“Easy, Wildcat,” he says, his voice a low rumble that fits perfectly into the quiet night. “Just me.”
My heart, which had just calmed down, kicks back into high gear—but for entirely different reasons now.
Axel has that effect.
“You scared the hell out of me,” I say, but my voice lacks any real annoyance. It’s impossible to be truly annoyed at Axel. He’s intense and overwhelming, but also comforting. And if I’m being honest, I’m happy not to be alone.
He frowns. “Bad dreams?”
I consider lying. But something about the way he’s looking at me, like he can see straight through my bullshit, makes me hesitate.
“I’m okay,” I say finally, splitting the difference between honesty and my usual deflection.
Axel makes a sound in his throat, something between a scoff and a grunt. “You’re a terrible liar, Wildcat.” He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his skin. “Your hands are still shaking.”
I look down. He’s right.
Traitor hands.
“What are you doing up?” I ask, eager to shift the focus away from me.
He shrugs one shoulder. “Don’t sleep much,” he says. Then he cocks his head, studying me with those intense eyes. “The fire again?”
My breath catches. I’ve never told him, or anyone, about my nightmares, not the details, anyway.
“Yeah,” I admit, the word barely audible.
For a moment, he just looks at me. Then, without warning, he reaches out and pulls me against his chest. His arms wrap around me, strong and secure, one hand cradling the back of my head. His body is warm, his heartbeat steady against my cheek, and something in me just… surrenders.
I melt into him, letting my forehead rest against him. My arms stay tangled under my blanket, but I don’t feel trapped.
I feel… safe.
Protected and understood.
“You’re safe,” he murmurs into my hair, and unlike when I said those exact words to myself earlier, I almost believe them now. There’s something about Axel—for all his wildness, his unpredictability—that makes me feel secure.
Like nothing bad can touch me when he’s near.
His hand moves in slow circles on my back, and I realize I’m breathing in sync with him, my chest rising and falling against his.
“How’d you know I was out here?” I ask, my voice muffled against his skin.
I feel rather than see his shrug. “Heard the door. Smelled you.”
I pull back just enough to look up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Creepy much?”
That gets me a genuine smile, teeth flashing white in the darkness. “You smell good,” he says, unapologetic.
His fingers brush a strand of hair from my face, and they linger, just for a moment, against my cheek. Our eyes lock as his thumb traces a small circle on my cheekbone.
“The stars are out for you tonight,” he says, his voice rougher. He looks up at the sky, then back at me. “Almost as bright as your eyes.”
It’s such an un-Axel-like thing to say that I almost laugh. But the intensity in his gaze stops me.
“Come with me,” he says suddenly, his hand finding mine. “We’re sleeping in the shed tonight.”
“The shed?” I ask, but I’m letting him lead me away from the house, across the yard, and toward the tree line where his small shed stands.
“You’ll feel safe in there,” he says.
I hesitate. Axel’s murdery weapon shed is not exactly what I need right now.
“I—” I start, not sure how to explain.
But Axel reads my pause perfectly. “Too closed in?” he asks, his voice matter-of-fact, no judgment.
I nod.
“Come on,” he says, tugging me toward a wooden bench that sits against the shed’s outer wall, facing the tree line. “We can stay outside.”
The bench is rough-hewn but sturdy, clearly Axel’s handiwork. He sits first, then pulls me down beside him.
“Better?” he asks.
I nod again, settling the blanket around us both. Axel’s arm slips around me, drawing me closer.
“I like being able to breathe, thanks.” I try to wiggle away, but he holds me firm. He’s too busy nuzzling against my neck, planting soft kisses.
“The fire,” he says, not a question this time. “You dream about it a lot.”
I tense slightly.
“Yeah,” I admit, because what’s the point in lying? He already knows.
His fingers trace slow patterns on my shoulder. “I get it.”
I turn to look at him, studying his profile in the moonlight. His jaw is tense, eyes fixed on the distant trees.
“Are your nightmares often?” I ask.
His laugh is soft, a little bitter. “Wildcat, I am a fucking nightmare.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s not what I asked.”
He’s quiet for a moment before answering, “Yes. Different monsters. Same fear.” His arm tightens around me. “Same feeling of being trapped.”
I rest my head on his shoulder, and he tucks me closer. We sit like that, watching the stars and listening to the sounds of the surrounding night.
“Thank you,” I murmur, unsure if I’m thanking him for bringing me here, understanding, or just being beside me.
He makes a sound low in his throat, dismissive but gentle, then his fingers find my chin, tilting my face up to his.
His lips touch mine. I sigh against his mouth, his hand sliding into my hair, cupping the back of my head.
His tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I open for him, letting him deepen the kiss.
He tastes like mint and something wilder, something distinctly Axel.
His stubble scratches lightly against my skin.
He pulls back, just enough to look at me, breathing slightly faster than before. “This okay?”
I almost laugh at the question. After all the ways Axel has pushed boundaries, broken rules, and generally been a menace, he’s still asking if this is okay.
“Yes,” I say, and to prove it, I kiss him again.
His laugh rumbles against my lips, a sound of genuine pleasure that makes my heart skip. Then his arms pull me halfway onto his lap as the kiss intensifies.
One of his hands slides beneath my tank top, his calloused palm rough against the skin of my lower back, and I grin against him.
Axel breaks the kiss with a soft groan. “Careful, Wildcat,” he murmurs, his voice a gravelly warning that does nothing to discourage me.
“Or what?” I challenge, feeling reckless and alive, the nightmare completely forgotten.
“Or you might get more than you bargained for.”
“Maybe that’s what I want,” I whisper.
“There’s nothing I’d love more than to take you under the stars, but I made a promise to the guys. I’m not supposed to fuck you without supervision.”
“I trust you, Axel.”
His laugh is rough, bitter. “You shouldn’t; I’m a monster. Been hit a few too many times when cage fighting. Sometimes I think I’m still in those cages.” His hand flexes against me, restless. “My head’s not always right, Wildcat.”
“You’re anything but a monster,” I say. “Monsters are the reason you have this compound; they are the true evil. They lurk in the shadows and inflict pain on the innocent. They take advantage of those who are weaker than themselves. You’re none of that.
You’re not evil. Sure, you might be a little unhinged at times, but you’re caring, have a loving heart, and you’re the best cuddle buddy a girl could ask for.
” I kiss him again. “And maybe have an unhealthy relationship with that axe of yours, but…I’ve never been scared of you.
A little excited, perhaps, but I always knew you would never hurt me intentionally. ”
“Fuck you’re perfect.” He kisses me again, harder this time, more demanding. His hand slides higher under my top, thumb brushing the underside of my breast. “I love the little sounds you make, Wildcat,” he says against my lips. “I want to hear them again.”
His thumb circles higher, brushing over my nipple, and I gasp again, my body arching into his touch.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, and the praise sends a thrill through me.
We kiss until my lips feel swollen, until I’m practically panting with need, until I can feel his hardness pressing insistently against me through his sweatpants.
He pulls back slightly, enough for me to catch the wicked grin on his face.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
Axel’s grin widens. “I’ve got an idea,” he says, his voice low and charged. “Something you’ll like,” he says as he moves me to the bench and disappears inside the shed. He’s back minutes later with his axe.
I raise my eyebrows.
“I want to combine two of my favorite things,” he says.
“Me and… your axe?”
“Smart, Wildcat,” he says, his voice dropping to a register that clenches my thighs. “Give the girl a prize.”
Before I can ask what exactly he means, he moves to the end of the bench, studies it briefly, then drives the axe into the wooden seat at an angle. The blade bites deep, the handle jutting up at around forty-five degrees.
I stare at it, then at him. “You just… put a hole in your bench.”
He laughs, the sound rough and sexy. “I built it. I can put holes wherever I want.” He straddles the bench, positioning himself so the axe handle rises between his spread legs. Then he pats his thighs. “Come here.”
My mouth goes dry as I catch his meaning. “You want me to…”
“Fuck it,” he confirms, eyes burning into mine. “I want you to ride the handle while I watch. I want your juices all over it. I want it to smell like you every time I use it.”
The request is outrageous, but so thoroughly Axel in its audacity that I should be scandalized. Instead, I feel a rush of heat between my legs.
“That’s…” I struggle for words.
“Hot?” he supplies, looking smugly confident. “Dirty? The filthiest thing anyone’s ever asked you to do?”
Yep, all of the above.
“Unsanitary,” I say instead.
“I sanitized it,” he assures me. He then pats his thighs again. “Come here, Wildcat. Let me make you feel good.”
“You’re insane.”
“Never claimed otherwise,” he purrs. “But you’re wet just thinking about it, aren’t you?”
And shifter Gods help me, I go to him.