Chapter 4-Luna Trials
Emily could not stop thinking about the blood.
It should have been a small thing. Wolves got injured during training all the time. Even in Moonfall, rough sparring often ended with split lips, scraped knuckles, bruised ribs, or the occasional claw mark that took a few days to fade. Blood was not unusual in pack life. It was expected.
So why had that single sharp scent in the air hit her like lightning?
Why had her wolf surged so violently at the smell of it?
And why, hours later, did Emily still feel like something inside her had shifted?
She sat at the edge of the guest cabin's small porch, elbows on her knees, staring out at the line of dark trees beyond the camp.
The late afternoon light had softened, turning the forest gold and green, but the beauty of it barely registered.
Her thoughts circled the same moment over and over again.
The startled cry from the training grounds.
The scent of blood.
The sudden rush of heat under her skin.
The blinding, instinctive need to move.
Not away.
Toward.
Emily pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes.
"What is wrong with me?" she whispered.
Nothing answered, but her wolf stirred.
Not uneasily.
Not fearfully.
As if it had been waiting for her to ask.
A shiver slipped down Emily's spine.
For most of her life, her wolf had felt like a muted echo compared to everyone else's.
She had never said that aloud-not really, not in the way that mattered-because she had learned early that quiet insecurities had a way of becoming loud humiliations when spoken to the wrong people.
But it had always been true. Other wolves talked about instincts like they were a constant hum beneath their skin.
Emily's had always been fainter. Distant. Watchful.
Until now.
Now it felt closer.
Hungrier.
More awake.
A knock sounded against the wooden door behind her before it opened. Owen stepped out first, carrying a mug in one hand. Liam followed him, arms folded, expression as guarded as ever.
Emily glanced over her shoulder. "You both look like you're about to interrogate me."
Owen handed her the mug. The steam smelled like herbal tea. "That depends. Are you hiding anything dramatic?"
Emily accepted it with a quiet thanks. "Not on purpose."
Liam leaned against the porch post. "You disappeared into your own head after leaving the river."
Emily took a sip of tea mostly to avoid answering.
"You felt it too," Owen said more gently.
She looked up.
"The blood?" he clarified. "Whatever happened out there."
Emily hesitated, then nodded slowly. "It was strange."
Liam's gaze sharpened. "Strange how?"
Emily tried to explain, though the words felt slippery and inadequate. "It was like... everything got sharper all at once. The smell, the sound, even the air." She looked down at the steam curling from her mug. "And my wolf reacted before I could. Stronger than usual."
The brothers exchanged a quick glance that did not escape her.
Emily frowned. "What?"
Owen rubbed the back of his neck. "Nothing bad."
"That look means something bad."
Liam exhaled. "It means this mate bond may be affecting your wolf faster than expected."
Emily blinked. "That happens?"
"It can," Owen said. "Especially if the bond is strong."
It was strong.
She knew that already, even if she did not want to say it aloud.
The thought of Jay made the warmth in her chest flicker immediately, as if the bond itself had heard him mentioned.
Traitor.
"Is it dangerous?" she asked.
Liam answered too quickly. "No."
Owen answered more honestly. "Not if you learn to control it."
Emily let that sit for a moment.
Control.
Another thing wolves always seemed to expect from her despite never teaching her how to find it.
Before she could press further, footsteps approached the cabin. Heavy. Steady. Familiar now in a way that made her pulse react before the sound fully registered.
Jay.
Emily hated that she knew it instantly.
She hated even more that some part of her was relieved.
A second later, his shadow crossed the porch steps and he came into view.
He had changed out of the dark shirt he wore earlier, now dressed in a fitted charcoal one with the sleeves shoved carelessly up to his forearms. His hair looked slightly wind-tossed, like he had run a hand through it one too many times, and his expression was unreadable until his eyes found her.
Then it softened.
Just enough that it felt dangerously private.
"Emily."
There it was again-that low, steady way he said her name, as if it naturally belonged in his mouth.
She set her mug down before her hands could betray how much the bond liked hearing him.
"Alpha," Liam said by way of greeting, tone formal and not especially warm.
Jay inclined his head once. "I need to borrow your sister."
Emily nearly choked on absolutely nothing.
Owen, to his credit, hid his amusement badly. Liam did not bother hiding his suspicion at all.
"For what?" Liam asked.
Jay looked at Emily when he answered, not her brother. "Training."
Emily stared.
"Training?" she repeated.
Jay's gaze held hers. "You reacted to the blood on the sparring grounds."
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the bench. "You noticed."
"I notice everything you do."
The words landed between them with more weight than he probably intended.
Or maybe exactly as much weight as he intended.
Emily looked away first.
Of course he had noticed. He was an Alpha. Observing weaknesses, strengths, reactions-that was part of who he was. It should not mean anything that he watched her carefully.
It definitely should not send heat into her cheeks.
Liam pushed off the porch post. "She doesn't need to train with your pack."
Jay's attention finally shifted. "Yes, she does."
"Because you say so?"
"Because if her wolf is waking up this fast and no one teaches her how to handle it, the next surprise could hurt her."
Silence followed that.
Liam's jaw tightened, but Emily could tell the logic had landed.
Owen stepped in before his older brother could start a proper argument. "What kind of training?"
Jay folded his arms. "Basic control. Territory movement. Instinct response. Nothing extreme."
Emily narrowed her eyes. "That sounds suspiciously like a list designed to sound less painful than it probably is."
To her surprise, Jay's mouth curved.
A real smile this time.
It transformed his face in a way she was profoundly unprepared for-less severe, less carved from stone, though no less dangerous. Just warmer. More alive.
And because the Moon Goddess apparently enjoyed making her suffer, he looked good smiling.
"Pain is not my goal," he said.
"Comforting," she murmured.
His eyes stayed on her. "Will you come?"
Emily looked between him and her brothers.
Liam was still tense. Owen was curious. Jay was impossibly calm in that Alpha way of his, but beneath it she sensed something else through the bond-focus, patience, and a thread of concern he was keeping on a very short leash.
The truth was, she wanted answers.
And she was beginning to suspect those answers would not come if she stayed on this porch pretending nothing inside her had changed.
So Emily stood.
"Yes."
Liam made a low sound of disapproval.
Emily turned to him before he could object. "I need to know what's happening to me."
His face softened with reluctant frustration. He hated not being able to fix things for her. Always had.
"I know," he said quietly.
Owen squeezed her shoulder once as she passed him. "If he works you too hard, bite him."
Jay's brow lifted. "Noted."
Emily almost smiled.
Almost.
The training grounds looked different when she stepped onto them with Jay at her side.
Earlier, from a distance, they had seemed merely busy-wolves sparring, warriors running drills, younger pack members learning discipline under the supervision of older fighters.
Up close, the place felt more like a living machine.
Dust hung in the late afternoon light. Boots pounded packed earth.
Bodies collided with hard, controlled force.
The sharp scents of sweat, adrenaline, and wolf filled the air in overlapping waves.
And every person there noticed them.
Not loudly.
Not obviously.
But they noticed.
The Alpha walking onto the field with his newly found mate would always be noticed.
Emily felt the weight of their attention immediately.
Her shoulders wanted to curl inward. Her chin wanted to lower. Her instincts screamed at her to become smaller, quieter, less visible.
Jay slowed beside her.
"Look at me."
The command was quiet, but there was no missing it.
Emily glanced up.
His expression had gone serious again. Not cold. Focused.
"What do you see?" he asked.
She blinked. "You."
One corner of his mouth twitched. "Good. Keep doing that."
Emily frowned. "That feels like a trick."
"It's a strategy."
"For what?"
"For not letting everyone else get inside your head."
The bluntness of it startled a laugh out of her before she could stop it.
Jay's eyes warmed briefly, then he started walking again. "You don't need the field. We'll use the northern edge."
She followed him past the main training ring, aware of whispers drifting behind them.
"Why is he taking her out there?"
"She'll get hurt."
"Maybe that's the point."
Emily stiffened.
Jay did not break stride, but his voice dropped. "Ignore them."
"I'm trying."
"No. You're listening and trying not to react." He glanced at her. "Different thing."
Emily huffed softly. "And you can tell that because you notice everything I do?"
"Yes."
It should have annoyed her.
Instead, it made her absurdly aware of the space between them.
They reached a quieter stretch beyond the main grounds where the earth flattened near the tree line. A few old wooden targets stood at one end, and there was enough open space for movement drills without the whole pack circling them like scavengers.
Though not enough distance to keep Serena from appearing.
Of course.
She stood near one of the fence posts with two other she-wolves Emily had seen in the dining hall, arms crossed and expression sweet in a way that instantly felt false.
"Training?" Serena asked. "How serious."
Jay did not even look at her. "Leave."
Serena smiled. "I was only curious."
"That will pass."
The other two wolves shifted awkwardly, clearly wishing they were anywhere else.
Serena, however, seemed to enjoy walking directly into danger. "The pack is curious too. You've never personally trained anyone before."
Jay turned then.
Very slowly.
Emily watched Serena's smile falter by the barest degree.
"I'm going to say this once," Jay said, voice calm enough to be terrifying. "Whatever story you've built in your head where my patience for you still exists-it doesn't."
Silence.
Then Serena's gaze slid to Emily, cold and glittering. "Careful, outsider. Attention like this never lasts."
Emily felt that hit where it was meant to.
And maybe two days ago it would have landed harder.
Maybe two days ago she would have looked away.
But the bond pulsed warm in her chest, and beneath the ache of old insecurity, something newer was growing. Something with teeth.
Emily met Serena's stare.
"Then it's a good thing I didn't ask for yours."
One of Serena's friends choked on a laugh and immediately pretended it was a cough.
Serena's face went tight.
Jay said nothing, but the flash of approval in his eyes was unmistakable.
"Leave," he repeated.
This time Serena did.
But she did not leave quietly. She left with the stiff-backed promise of someone already planning the next cruelty.
Emily watched her go and released a slow breath.
Jay stepped into her line of sight. "You handled that well."
"I'm not sure she agrees."
"She doesn't have to."
Emily looked out across the clearing. "I'm still shaking."
"That's fine."
"It doesn't feel fine."
Jay moved closer-not crowding her, not touching her, just enough to anchor her attention. "You think strength means the shaking goes away. It doesn't. It means you keep standing anyway."
Emily stared at him.
No one had ever explained courage to her like that.
Maybe because no one had ever expected her to need it.
Jay nodded toward the open ground. "Now. Show me how you move."
Emily blinked. "That sounds ominous."
"It's walking."
"That can still be judged."
"It will be."
She exhaled through her nose. "You're enjoying this."
"Maybe."
That nearly made her smile again.
She stepped into the clearing and waited, unsure what exactly he wanted.
Jay circled once, assessing in that intensely focused way of his that made her feel both seen and dissected. "Shift your weight off your heels," he said. "You retreat before you even move."
Emily frowned and adjusted automatically.
He nodded once. "Better. Again."
For the next half hour he had her do what felt like the simplest things in the world until they became maddening-walking, turning, stopping, pivoting, bracing. But under his instruction, none of it stayed simple for long. Every movement revealed another habit. Another instinct.
"You glance down when you're uncertain."
"You tense your shoulders before impact."
"You make yourself smaller when you expect someone to challenge you."
Emily wiped sweat from her temple. "You make me sound like a collection of flaws."
His expression shifted. "That isn't what I'm doing."
"Then what are you doing?"
"Showing you where you've learned to survive."
She went still.
Jay's voice softened, though the intensity in it did not. "And showing you which habits will get you hurt here."
Emily looked away, throat suddenly tight.
Because that was the thing no one ever understood about shy girls-they did not become that way for no reason. You learned to quiet yourself because being loud had once cost too much. You made yourself smaller because it felt safer than being seen clearly enough for someone to strike.
Jay was not mocking those instincts.
He was reading them.
And somehow that was worse. Or better. Or both.
"Again," he said, gentler this time.
So she did.
As the sun dipped lower, something shifted in her body.
It happened slowly enough that she did not notice at first. Her steps grew steadier.
Her turns cleaner. Her awareness broadened until she could feel not only where Jay stood but where the trees were, where the fence line began, where two sparring wolves at the far end of the grounds would move before they moved.
Her wolf was there with her.
Not silent.
Guiding.
Emily pivoted, braced, and caught Jay's testing shove to her shoulder without stumbling.
Surprise flashed across his face.
Then satisfaction.
"There," he said.
Emily blinked. "There what?"
"That."
He stepped back. "You stopped anticipating failure."
The words hit deeper than she wanted them to.
Before she could answer, a fresh wave of scent cut across the training grounds.
Sweat.
Dust.
And blood.
One of the younger warriors had reopened an earlier cut during sparring.
The effect on Emily was instant.
Her breath caught.
Heat shot under her skin.
The world sharpened so violently she could hear individual heartbeats.
Her wolf surged forward, stronger than before, and this time it was not just awareness. It was power. Bright, fierce, silver-white power that flashed through her body like a live wire.
Emily gasped.
Jay was in front of her a second later. "Emily."
She could not answer.
The edges of the world looked too clear. Too bright. Every scent felt overwhelming. Every sound too loud. Her hands shook as something electric moved beneath her skin, as if her wolf wanted out-not fully, not into a shift, but into the world in some other way Emily did not understand.
"Look at me."
She tried.
His hands closed carefully around her upper arms. Warm. Steady. Real.
"Breathe," he said. "Slowly. Follow my voice."
The command cut through the rush just enough for her to cling to it.
She inhaled.
Too fast.
Again.
Slower this time.
Jay held her gaze, his own gold eyes blazing with concentration. "Good. Again."
Emily obeyed.
One breath.
Then another.
The power still churned under her skin, but less violently now.
Around them, the training grounds had gone quiet.
Wolves were watching.
Emily hated that.
But she hated the fear building in her chest more.
"What's happening?" she whispered.
Jay's hands tightened fractionally, not enough to hurt. Just enough to ground.
"I don't know yet."
That was the most frightening answer he could have given.
Because if Jay Carter-the Alpha who seemed to understand everything around him-did not know, then whatever was happening to her might be bigger than nerves, bigger than the bond, bigger than anything she had prepared herself for.
A murmur rippled across the field.
Emily heard one word rise above the others.
"Silver."
She froze.
Jay looked over his shoulder sharply. "Enough."
The murmurs died instantly.
But the word remained.
Silver.
Emily looked down at her hands.
For the briefest second, just before the strange energy faded completely, she could have sworn there had been a shimmer beneath her skin.
Not gold.
Not white.
Silver.
And judging by the expression on Jay's face when he looked back at her, he had seen it too.