Mate Me in Moonlight

Chapter 3

POV: Adeline

Freya led me out of Aiden’s office with an energy that suggested she had already assigned me a long list of places to see, rules to explain, and people I would eventually learn by scent if not by name.

I wasn’t ready for people. I wasn’t ready for anything, really. But the packhouse air was warm and full of life, and my wolf drifted toward it as if she could absorb safety through proximity.

“This way,” Freya said, stopping at a side door. “We’ll start outside. It’s easier to breathe when the walls aren’t trying to make you socialize.”

“That’s your professional opinion?” I asked.

“Absolutely.”

The back deck opened onto a sweeping expanse of trees and hills. Mist still clung to the ground where the sunlight hadn’t burned it away. The forest breathed around us—calm, alive, unthreatening. My wolf lifted her head, drawing in the scents, memorizing them.

We could run here, she said softly.

“We won’t,” I whispered back.

Freya either didn’t hear or pretended not to hear my whispers. She guided me down the steps toward a dirt path that curved around the packhouse. Wolves moved about the grounds in easy patterns—some jogging, some carrying tools, two arguing with the relaxed confidence of friends who’d bickered since childhood.

The simplicity of it all cut deeper than fire had.

“Training field’s ahead,” Freya said. “Don’t let anyone rope you into sparring today unless you want to faint dramatically in front of half the warriors.”

“I’ll pass.”

She snorted. “Good call.”

We stepped onto the field, where several wolves were sparring in human form. Dust rose around their feet, muscles straining, breaths sharp in the cool air. The sound of fists hitting practice pads carried across the space—rhythmic, controlled, purposeful.

One of the fighters broke away the moment he saw us. He didn’t jog. He stalked.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with pale eyes already narrowed in judgment.

Luca? Wonderful.

Freya muttered under her breath, “Brace yourself. Defensive wolf incoming.”

Luca stopped in front of me, close enough that I could see the faint scar near his jawline, the kind earned by someone who never let others take hits meant for him.

“You’re up,” he said.

“Occasionally,” I replied. “I try not to overdo it.”

He didn’t blink. “Good. Means you’re not bleeding on our floors.”

“That seems to disappoint you.”

Freya choked on a laugh.

Luca ignored her. His gaze swept over me—clinical, unhurried, assessing like he was cataloging the ways I could fail them. Or destroy them.

Luca didn’t break eye contact. He didn’t blink. “I’ll be clear, since I don’t believe in wasting time. I don’t like unknowns in this territory.”

“I’m not an unknown,” I said. “I’m standing right in front of you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Luca replied, stepping half a pace closer—not crowding, but challenging. “Unknowns are variables. Risks. And the moment you crossed our border, every risk you carry landed in our yard.”

My wolf bristled. My human half didn’t flinch.

“If you’re looking for an apology,” I said, “you won’t get one.”

“I wasn’t,” he replied. “I was looking for honesty.”

“I gave you some.”

He gave a humorless huff. “You told us your name. Your past is a forest fire with too many missing pieces.”

“And your point is?”

“That Ironclaw doesn’t leave survivors,” Luca said, voice dropping low. “Except you.”

Freya stiffened slightly beside me.

I didn’t react.

Luca continued, eyes narrowing. “Five packs refused you. They can’t all be cowards. So I have to ask myself—what did you bring with you that they didn’t want?”

“Bad luck, apparently.”

“Ironclaw doesn’t run on luck,” he snapped.

For the first time, his temper slipped, exposing something rawer underneath: fear for his pack. For Aiden.

I tilted my head. “You think I’m danger incarnate.”

“I think danger likes you,” Luca said. “Follows you. Watches you.” He stepped closer still. “And I think you know more than you’ve told us.”

My voice stayed even. “I know exactly as much as someone who lost everything is expected to know.”

“And that,” he said, “is what worries me.”

We stared at each other, tension pulling tight between us.

Freya finally slid in, placing herself just barely angled between us—subtle, but firm. “Beta,” she said quietly. “She’s had a long road. Maybe try not interrogating her on sight?”

Luca didn’t look away from me. “I don’t interrogate. I assess.”

“Feels the same from this angle,” I said.

His eyes flashed. “Then get used to the feeling. Until I think you’re clean, I’ll be watching you.”

“I’ve survived worse things than being watched.”

“Good,” he said. “You’ll need that skill here.”

Freya let out a breath. “Luca, go hydrate before you growl yourself into a migraine.”

He gave her a sharp look, turned back to me one last time, and said in a low voice meant only for me:

“If Ironclaw comes—we’ll know whether you’re a warning or a weapon.”

Then he walked off, shadows trailing behind him like a second skin.

Freya sighed. “He’s slightly less scary once you realize that’s his friendly setting.”

“I wasn’t scared,” I said.

“I didn’t say you were.” She eyed me knowingly. “I said he was trying.”

***

Freya kept the tour going, weaving us around the training field and toward the gardens—small but vibrant, tended with a kind of purposeful gentleness that didn’t match warriors’ hands.

From there, she led me to the storage shed, the laundry area, the small path leading to the river.

The river was beautiful.

Wide. Clear. Moving with quiet strength. The kind of place pups would splash in during the summer, and wolves would cool their paws after long patrols.

My wolf leaned toward it. We could guard this place, she murmured. We could guard him.

My chest tightened. “We’re not staying long.”

She didn’t argue. She simply waited.

Freya let me take it in before nudging my shoulder. “We should head back. Aiden has patrol meetings this afternoon. If Luca doesn’t scare you off, the schedule might.”

“I’ll try to survive both.”

“Good luck,” she said and took me back.

The common room had emptied by the time we returned, leaving the quiet hum of midday: a few wolves cleaning dishes, someone sweeping near the hearth, the soft murmur of conversation through partially open doors.

As we reached the staircase, footsteps approached—slow, steady, familiar in a way that made my wolf lift her head.

Aiden.

He appeared from the hallway, sleeves rolled again, hair tied back, a small stack of papers in hand. His attention shifted immediately when he saw me.

“How’s the tour going?” he asked.

“She hasn’t bitten anyone,” Freya said. “Yet.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” I muttered.

“That’s a relief,” Aiden replied, mouth twitching.

His gaze returned to me—quiet but somehow grounding. “How are you holding up?”

The question landed more carefully than I expected. I didn’t know how to answer, so I chose the closest truth.

“I’m still here,” I said. “It’s… an adjustment.”

“That’s normal,” he said softly. “This place can feel like too much at first.”

“That’s one word for it,” I said.

He nodded slightly. “If you need space, you’ll have it. If you need people, you’ll have them too. Just tell Freya or me.”

“I don’t need anything,” I said quickly.

Aiden didn’t argue. He simply accepted the lie with a quiet dip of his head. “All right.”

Freya watched us with mildly alarmed amusement. “You two are exhausting,” she muttered. “In case no one’s told you.”

Aiden ignored her. “I’ll let you rest,” he said to me. “Dinner is at seven. No obligation.”

No obligation. No pressure. No demand.

My wolf leaned toward him; I stepped subtly back.

He noticed and didn’t push.

“Have a good afternoon, Adeline,” he said.

He moved past us down the hall, but I felt his presence for several breaths after he was gone, like a warm hand pressed lightly between my shoulder blades.

Freya let out a dramatic sigh. “Well, that was extremely normal,” she said. “For both of you.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I said.

“You existed at him,” she replied. “He’s very responsive to that.”

I stared at her. She shrugged.

“Go rest,” she said gently. “Your body and your brain need it.”

So I thanked Fraya for the day and went back to the guest room. I stood for a moment at the window, watching the river glint between the trees. Listening to the soft murmur of the packhouse behind me.

My wolf settled at last, warm and attentive. We are safe for now, she said.

I wasn’t sure I believed her. But as I lay down and closed my eyes, the bed didn’t feel quite as wrong as it had this morning.

And that frightened me more than any Ironclaw scent ever could.