Bonus Scene
-EASTON’S POV-
As much as I'm not fond of the idea, Feray learning to fight is a necessary evil. The events of the past few days have made that crystal clear.
Torben has shifted into his massive Kodiak form, and he's been going head-to-head with our mate for almost an hour. His brown fur ripples with each movement, muscles bunching and releasing as he swipes at her with paws the size of dinner plates.
She dodges his strikes with almost practiced ease.
Now that I think about it, he telegraphs his moves before he makes them. A subtle shift of weight. A twitch of his shoulder. His protective instincts are sabotaging the lesson.
"Khal, shift and get into the mix. She needs a harder opponent." I yell, and Torben backs away, huffing with relief.
"What do you mean, she needs a harder opponent?" Diaval asks, coming to stand beside me.
"Torben is telegraphing his moves before he makes them. At least with the basilisk, he can't telegraph. His scales hide his muscle movements."
Diaval turns to watch as Feray lunges and strikes at Khal's massive serpentine form more ruthlessly than she was Torben. Her white wolf is a blur of motion against his obsidian coils, teeth snapping, claws raking.
She's magnificent. Savage and beautiful and terrifying all at once.
"I see what you mean. With his armor, she's not afraid to attack."
Pride swells in my chest watching her. This is the Luna she was always meant to be.
I'm so focused on Diaval that it's not until Torben approaches that I notice it's too quiet.
The sounds of combat have stopped.
Slowly, we turn and see Feray in a staring contest with Khal's basilisk. Her wolf stands rigid, hackles raised, golden eyes blazing like twin suns. The air around her seems to shimmer with power.
Suddenly, his shift releases his human form.
Khal falls on his ass and stares at her, naked and bewildered. "How did you do that?"
"How did she do what?" We jog over and stare at him, then over at Feray's wolf as the glow recedes from her eyes.
"She forced my shift." Khal's voice is shaky, his pupils still slitted from the abrupt transformation. "All I heard in my head was the word shift, and I did."
My blood runs cold.
"That is an alpha power, not a Luna one."
It seems our theory of her inheriting both parents' powers is accurate.
"Feray? Can you force Torben to shift into his bear?" Diaval asks, his voice carefully controlled.
She turns to look at Torben. The same brilliant gold illuminates her eyes as she stares at him—that ancient, commanding glow that speaks of power older than any of us.
Within seconds, his bear rips free of his body. He shakes his massive head, disoriented, then sits heavily on his haunches.
"Shit..." I stare at Diaval, and he has the same look of shock and concern on his face as I do.
We've created something unprecedented. Or rather, her parents did—with their dying breaths.
"If she can do that, what else can she do?" Khal questions as he moves to Feray's side, still naked and unbothered by it.
Diaval and I look at each other, sharing memories of what the Alphas and Lunas of the past were capable of. The armies they commanded. The enemies they destroyed. The empires they built and toppled.
"Just about anything she puts her mind to."
I break eye contact with Diaval and move to kneel before Feray's wolf.
Her white fur gleams in the afternoon light, pristine as fresh snow. The feather I gave her—my feather—rests nestled behind her ear, a streak of copper and gold against all that white.
I stare deep into my mate's eyes. The feather ignites, warming against her fur without burning.
Did I do something wrong?
Her voice is soft in my mind, uncertain. Like a child who's been caught doing something she doesn't understand.
"No, not at all. You did everything perfectly."
Her eyes flare as she stares at me, and her tail wags quickly—a counterpoint to the deadly predator she was moments ago.
You can hear me?
The wonder in her mental voice makes my heart ache. She's been so alone. Even surrounded by us, there are parts of her that have been isolated, locked away.
Not anymore.
"Of course I can." Smiling, I touch her feather. It pulses warmly against my fingertips, alive with our connection. "Our bond allows it. You making the attempt established the connection. Moving forward, you should be able to do this any time you wish."
I caress her cheek, the fur silk-soft beneath my palm. She leans into my touch like she's starving for it.
Can Diaval hear me too?
She turns her head expectantly, tail still wagging.
"Of course I can. You have my scale." Diaval tilts his head, looking down the bridge of his nose at her with that imperious dragon expression he wears so well.
You know I don't like it when you do that. Come down here.
It feels almost like a punch to the gut when she says it—not to me, but through me. I feel the command ripple through the air like a physical force.
Diaval falls to his knees before her.
His eyes are wide. Shocked. A five-hundred-year-old dragon, brought to heel by a wolf not yet thirty.
"What just happened? What are we missing?" Khal says, looking between Diaval and me.
"Because of our scale and feather, apparently we can mind-speak with Feray. She didn't like the look Diaval gave her and drove him to his knees." I shrug, trying to appear casual. Inside, I'm reeling.
She could command us. Actually command us. And we would have no choice but to obey.
"So what you're saying is she used her alpha bark on Diaval and forced him to drop to his knees." Torben says as he pulls a shirt over his head, having shifted back at some point.
"The short version, yes?" I'm still questioning the whole thing myself.
Can you hear me?
Feray walks past Diaval—who's rising slowly, rubbing his knees with a stunned expression—to stand before Torben. Her wolf looks up at him expectantly, waiting.
"What do you need, little wolf?" He smiles and bends down to run his fingers through her fur.
The silence stretches.
"He can't hear you," I say sadly.
"She said something to me? What did she say?" His eyes dart from Feray to me, hurt flickering across his features.
"She asked if you could hear her."
"Oh..." Genuine sadness crosses his face. "No, little wolf. I can't hear you."
Her tail droops, and something in me aches for both of them.
"It's an ancient thing, or a mythic thing, I believe. Our shifts differ from yours, and for whatever reason, she cannot connect to yours like she does ours." I'm running on the assumption that because of the scale and feather, she can mind-speak like we do.
Her wolf turns expectantly and stares up at Khal. He tilts his head, looking at her. "If you're saying anything, I can't hear you, Precious."
Her tail lowers further.
She shifts back, and Torben immediately throws his button-down over her shoulders, covering her bare form. The shirt swallows her, the sleeves hanging past her fingertips.
"You did really good today." He affectionately kisses her cheek and smiles at her before walking away to grab her clothing.
"So there's a theory Diaval and I have been kicking around, and we want to share it with everyone." I glance at the others as Diaval comes to stand beside me.
"What is it?" Feray asks as Torben hands her the outfit she had on earlier.
"Okay, so think back to inside the house. We found your dad at the foot of the stairs."
I try something. I reach for the bond, for the connection between us, and create the image of what we suspect happened.
A wendigo enters the house—massive, horrifying, all wrong angles and too-long limbs.
Her mother is sent upstairs like Feray suspected.
Her father, the alpha, fights the beast as long as he can.
Claws rake across his face, blood spraying against the walls.
As he falls, he wills his power to her mother.
The Luna, feeling the surge of power, knows her mate fell in battle. The bond snapping. The agony of it. Rushing to the closet, she tucks Feray into their laundry and down into the hiding spot, closing the door with trembling hands.
She battles far longer than her mate, wielding both Alpha and Luna powers against the monster. The nursery becomes a war zone. Furniture splinters. Walls crack.
Eventually, she falls as well. And before she dies, with her last breath and the last of her strength, she wills both sets of powers to the infant hidden in the closet.
To Feray.
I watch my mate's eyes flicker as she takes in the scene. Tears gather but don't fall. Her jaw is tight, her hands clenched at her sides.
Diaval explains what I'm showing her to the others, his voice low and reverent.
My flame bites her bottom lip and nods tersely. "I was right."
She glances over her shoulder at what's left of the house. The burned timbers. The collapsed roof. The funeral pyre still smoldering in the yard.
"You were." Reaching out, I cup her shoulder and stare deeply into her eyes. "Having both sets of powers is a gift. Unlike your mom, you have more than a few seconds to figure out how to use them effectively."
"We are going to help train you," Diaval interjects, his voice firm with promise.
"As an alpha in my sleuth, I can help with the alpha powers." Torben offers, stepping forward.
"I can help with the mind control powers." Khal says with a shy smile.
I always suspected basilisks could turn others into puppets or draw secrets out of people. Now I know for certain.
"Dominance and intimidation are my department, my eternal." Diaval says, this time careful not to cock his head like he usually does. Learning already.
"I can teach you how to heal others." Smiling, I offer my mate my hand.
She accepts it with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes—but it's there. That's what matters.
With a soft nod and a squeeze of my hand, she releases me and goes to hug everyone. She lingers longest with Torben, pressing her face into his chest.
Then she drags Khal over by the funeral pyre. He shifts, and she climbs up into his coils, nestling into the warmth of his massive body. Her eyes stay fixed on the dying flames.
There's a lot for her to process.
I watch her from a distance, this woman who holds the power of both an Alpha and a Luna. Who can command mythics with a thought. Who lost everything and is still standing.
I just hope she realizes she can lean on all of us for support. That she doesn't have to carry this weight alone.
Because watching her now—small and fierce and grieving among the ashes of her parents' lives—I know one thing for certain:
She's going to need us.
And we're going to need her.
Up next Waxing Gibbous. Time for you to catch up with Fiadh and her guys.
Waxing Gibbous