Chapter 13 Blood Rose Moon
Blood Rose Moon
Dom
“Man, by my low standards, you’re playing like shit tonight,” Garruk sneers through the headset.
“Damn it,” I mutter, leaning back into the couch. “Where are you on the map? I’ll come to you. There is a warthog where I spawned.”
“Lower level of the base,” he says. “Will you make it to me without dying?”
I speed across the bumpy terrain in his direction. “You’re fucking hilarious, you know that.” My eyes stay on the screen, but my mind keeps circling the same damn thoughts like my wolf tracking a scent it can’t shake.
The evening with Seren went great, but for some odd reason, I can’t stop thinking about the way Jasmira’s face looked when she talked about book club and books.
Her eyes lit up, hands moving as if she was creating the stories right there.
It was cute, and I like seeing her talk about what she’s passionate about.
Then there’s Seren’s drawing. I’m not sure why she drew me giving Jas flowers.
Her drawing is burned in my mind, and it was so special to Seren.
I had to give Jas flowers. And the foot massage, the way her back arched, a slight curve, when my thumb pressed into a spot she liked.
It made me see her in a way I never saw before.
And when a soft moan slipped past her lips—low and breathy—it’s fucking haunting me.
My wolf is clawing at my insides, wanting out. I haven’t shifted in a while, but it usually doesn’t cause any problems.
“Dominik! What the hell, you almost ran me over!” Garruk’s voice tears through the headset, snapping me back to the present. “Watch where you’re driving!”
“Shit—sorry, jump on the gun. Let’s see if we can make up this gap before they hit fifty and win.”
“Yeah, I don’t see us reeling off twenty kills before they get five, but whatever, let’s die trying.”
“Always the optimist,” I grumble. There’s a pause, making me aware he knows something wrong because I’m playing like shit tonight.
“What’s wrong? What the hell happened today? You’re way off your game,” he says. “You can talk to me, any of us, you know.”
“I know, and nothing happened,” I say, wiping my face. Fatigue is a weighted blanket draped over me.
“You’re starting to sound like me,” Garruk says, cracking his beer open.
“It’s nothing, man, piecing things together.”
“Did something happen with the shop?”
“No.” My wolf paces frantically, hungry for something I can’t name.
Garruk sighs into the mic. “I’m here if you want to talk, but you’re thinking too loud, man.”
Yeah. I am. And the worst part is I’m thinking about Jasmira.
The world is bathed in a rosy-silver shimmering light, casting long shadows across the forest floor. Overhead, a ruby-red moon reflects off Sapphire Lake.
The Blood Rose Moon. It’s beautiful. Ethereal. The power hums through my veins, spreading warmth throughout my chest. A howl—deep and powerful—erupts from my throat as I throw my head back. My wolf is ripping at the edges of my bones, demanding release with feral hunger.
I’m used to the transformation. It was agony at first, but this feels different. The pain and sickening crack of bones shifting and breaking. The burning stretch and tearing of skin. My knees hit the damp earth with a thud, breath ragged.
The beast—my wolf—peels itself out of my flesh.
He’s not a shadow or a reflection. He’s a living, breathing part of my soul, now standing beside me in a physical form.
His fur is black like midnight, and he towers over me, standing on two powerful legs, arms resting by his side, claws curved and ivory fangs gleaming wet.
He turns his golden eyes toward the lake, and a low growl rumbles from deep within his massive chest, vibrating the air around us. I follow his gaze, watching the figure draped in moonlight at the water’s edge move gracefully across the thick grass towards us.
Her gown flows like liquid, spun from starlight, and her tall form is luminous against all darkness.
I know who she is. Part of her essence flows in our blood.
Moiraya, the Moon Goddess. Her hair spills in silver waves down her back, flowing as if caught in an unseen breeze.
Skin like pale alabaster with her grey eyes, the color of the craters on the surface of the moon.
She's an ancient beauty carved from moonlight itself.
“Do you know who I am?”
I kneel before standing again. "Yes, you’re Moiraya.”
She stops a few feet away from me, her scent is cool, fresh rain and silver air.
“Hello, Dominik.” Her voice isn’t loud, but it charges the air around us.
“Why am I here? Why are you here? This is a dream, right?”
“You know why you are here, Dominik. You see the new moon,” she says, glancing up at the orb hanging in the sky, “the power she holds.”
“So, is this a message? Are you a matchmaker?”
“The new moon signifies new beginnings. A fresh start. It gives you a deep sleep—so one can dream.”
“Why me?”
Her head tilts as if she’s considering my question, shoulders lifting in a subtle shrug. “Because it’s time, it is why I am here, child.”
“Child?”
“Yes. You are one of my children. I’ve seen the one your soul craves, the one your heart burns for. I merely strengthen bonds already forged. Your soul knows its counterpart.”
Before I can protest, my wolf stirs, his nostrils flaring. His large head bows in reverence before lunging forward, his powerful paws drum against the earth. I break into a run after him, casting one final glance toward Moiraya.
She gives a single, knowing nod and a small smile.
Something deep down understands the significance of this moment. There is a reason this is happening, though nothing makes sense right now.
I sprint after him, following the twisted path of torn soil around the trees. I leap over a fallen log and see my wolf pausing, his silhouette standing in the undergrowth.
My boot finds a twig; the sound echoes through the ancient trees, shattering the quiet forest. Unblinking eyes blaze at me, his muzzle wrinkles back, and wickedly sharp fangs glint.
He growls—vicious and low—telling me to shut the fuck up before turning away. He’s hunting for something out there.
My heart is pounding in my chest like a war drum of nerves and panic. He’s supposed to be inside of me. Not out prowling beyond my skin. I’m weightless.
The scrape of claws on bark cuts through the air. I watch as my wolf steps beyond the brush and into a clearing, hidden in the dark. His muscles are taut underneath the dark, thick fur.
I hear a sharp gasp—Jasmira. She stands on the edge where the moonlight and shadows meet, hair a wild, untamed crown of dark curls. Her pale blue gown clings to her curves, floating on the soft grass. Her eyes, emerald flames, are full of fear and wonder.
He advances, each step a claim, muscles rippling beneath black fur. He lowers his head, lips parting in a velvet snarl, trembling with a sense of knowing and feral longing—not a threat, but intimacy.
Jasmira gasps and stumbles back, her dress tangling in roots. She lands on the ground, trembling hands inching her backwards. Her gaze peers into the eyes of the wolf, into me.
“Dominik,” she whispers my name like a promise, and everything around me fractures.
I jerk upright, gasping for air like a drowning man breaking the surface of the lake from my dream. My heart thrashes, sheets twisted around my body, skin slick with sweat.
The room is bathed in the same silver-rose glow, drifting through my curtains like smoke. The Blood Rose Moon hangs in the sky, in her darkened eclipse, and a crimson halo glows from the shadows.
Jasmira. Her name hits like a force in the stillness of my mind. This fierce, strong widow is half of my soul? We are claimed by moonlight and fate, woven into one another’s souls.
Fuck.
Jasmira is mine. My mate.