Moon Goddess, Name Him

chapter 5

POV Xander

The moment Cassidy's eyes flash that impossible amber-gold, both Theo and I freeze like statues.

I see the exact moment her wolf begins to surface—something that shouldn't exist, can't exist. She's human. Was human. Yet golden fire burns behind her irises like molten sunlight.

Around us, festival-goers stop mid-conversation. Fingers point. Whispers ripple through the crowd like wildfire. The supernatural display shatters Moon Hollow's maintained facade.

My inner wolf howls in distress as Cassidy doubles over, hands clawing at her throat where twin branches of light blaze beneath her skin. She doesn't understand what's happening—the confusion radiates from her in waves that make my chest tighten.

Through the mate bond developing between us—impossible, unprecedented—I feel everything. Her terror racing through my bloodstream. Her confusion fracturing my thoughts. The agony tearing through her body like she's being torn apart from the inside.

Her heartbeat thunders in my ears. Her labored breathing cuts through festival noise like a blade. Now I cannot leave her to suffer.

"I'm taking her out of here," I say, stepping toward her crouched form.

"Like hell you are." Theo blocks my path, territorial fury blazing in his eyes.

"Look at her, Theo."

Cassidy has crouched down, arms wrapped around herself as waves of pain wrack her body. She rocks slightly, trying to contain the agony, while light continues flickering beneath her skin. The crowd presses closer, phones emerging to capture her supernatural display.

"I'm taking her myself," Theo snarls.

"Right. And who handles your festival when you disappear?" I keep my voice flat. "Committee's looking for answers you can't give. Crowd needs managing."

"I don't trust you with her."

"Your trust isn't required."

"The hell it isn't." Theo steps closer, voice dropping to lethal quiet. "You think I'll let you waltz back into town and take whatever you want? Again?"

"This isn't about what I want."

"Bullshit. Everything's about what you want, Xander. What you take."

I feel my jaw clench. "She needs help. Now."

"From you? The man who destroyed everything he touched?"

"Look around, brother." I gesture to the growing crowd, the phones recording, the festival committee members pushing through with panic in their eyes. "Your festival is about to become a supernatural circus. Mayor's heading this way. So is the sheriff."

Theo's gaze flicks to the approaching officials, his face warring between protective fury and stark reality.

"She's in pain," I continue, voice flat as a winter stone. "Every second you waste arguing, she suffers more."

"And you care because?"

"Because someone has to."

The words hang between us, loaded with implications neither of us wants to address. Theo's hands clench into fists, but his eyes keep darting to Cassidy's crumpled form, to the crowd pressing closer.

"If you hurt her—"

"I won't."

Theo's expression fractures as he takes in her condition—the way she's curled in on herself, fighting pain she doesn't understand. His protective instincts war with his responsibilities.

"Get her to the Whitaker”s cottage," he says through gritted teeth. "I'll deal with this mess."

"Smart choice."

When Cassidy can't stand on her own, I lift her into my arms. She's so light—delicate bones and impossibly soft skin. Holding her feels like the most natural thing, like my arms were designed for this purpose.

"Easy," I murmur against her hair, voice flat as winter stone. She barely speaks during the ride home, exhaustion claiming her before we even reach her street. At her cottage, I settle her on the sofa with careful precision, then disappear into the kitchen for water.

By the time I return, exhaustion has claimed her. She curls into cushions like a wounded animal, breathing finally evening out into sleep's rhythm.

For an hour, I sit beside her without moving.

I watch the rise and fall of her chest, mesmerized by the proof of her survival. The need to protect her—to guard her, shelter her, ensure her safety for the rest of my life—overwhelms every other instinct. The intensity of it should terrify me. Instead, it feels like finally understanding my purpose.

She stirs, eyes fluttering open—hazel again, no trace of supernatural gold.

"Xander?" Her voice carries sleep's rough edges. "What's going on with me? What happened at the festival?"

I shrug, keeping my expression neutral. "Too stressed about the festival. New town, new job, lots of new people and responsibilities. Your body shut down."

She studies my face like she's searching for truth in stone. "It felt like I was dying."

"You weren't."

"How can you be sure?"

"Tea," I say abruptly, needing movement before I say something irreversible. "You need something to calm your nerves."

I lift her from the sofa before she can protest, carrying her to the kitchen with careful precision. Settling her in a chair, I move through her space like I belong here, opening cabinets with deliberate care.

"What's your favorite?" I ask, needing to hear her voice again. "Earl Grey? Chamomile? Something stronger?"

"Earl Grey," she says softly. "If you can find it."

I want to keep her talking, need the anchor of her voice against the electricity crackling under my skin, but conversation has never been my strength. Small talk feels impossible when everything inside me demands I confess truths that would shatter her world.

"Tell me about Earl Grey," I manage. "Why that one?"

A smile ghosts across her features. "Dad made it when I was sick. Said it could cure anything from heartbreak to head colds."

"Practical man."

I reach for sugar on the top shelf, stretching past mason jars to avoid disturbing her careful organization. My fingers brush against an old cardboard box tucked behind the tea supplies.

The container tumbles free.

Supernatural reflexes engage. I catch it with incredible precision before it can hit the floor, but the impact cracks aged cardboard. The lid falls to the floor with the contents inside scattering across linoleum like scattered secrets.

Cassidy gasps.