Chapter 7

Leah

Warmth prickled through me every time I noticed the improvements that Kyle's reforms brought to my people. I didn't have much cause to leave his house. My days were filled with duties that kept me close to him. Ever since he'd caught me at the Blood Moon cabin, he rarely assigned me tasks that took me outside.

My wolf rumbled that he was being protective.

He wants to keep us close.

I recalled the way he had gripped my wrist that night, his hold initially relentless, dragging me forward with a force that sent my heart racing. But then he slowed, his hand firm yet gentle, allowing me to catch my breath. Beneath the star-studded sky, with Kyle's steady but tender grip on me, something had shifted between us. I hadn't felt like a prisoner anymore; I'd felt guided and protected. A flutter of heat coursed through me at the memory, staining my cheeks despite the crisp air.

Yet doubts assailed me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that he kept me housebound because he trusted me even less since that night.

Whatever the reason, " Dig over the vegetable patch " hadn't appeared on the list of chores in a while. Thankfully, with fall now well underway, the leaves needed collecting and bagging. For the past week, I'd caught glimpses of my pack bustling about their duties in the Moonlight compound.

It was a sight for sore eyes. Whenever I saw the Blood Moon children running about with a bounce in their step or the adults putting on weight, their pallor lifting, gratitude swelled within me that was as invigorating as the clear, fall air in my lungs. Kyle's selflessness was evident everywhere I looked, and my heart squeezed with excitement as the certainty grew that he was unlike other Moonlights. He was a good man whose actions were beginning to change the fate of my people.

Kyle's willingness to rise above the weight of his lineage filled me with deep admiration. I knew it wasn't easy for him; I understood the weight of the tragedy of the Luna's untimely death in Blood Moon territory and the pain it carried. My father, the Beta of our pack, had perished that day alongside our Alpha, Roman's father. Yet, Kyle persisted, working tirelessly to mend wounds that others had long deemed too deep to heal.

Raking up the leaves, I savored the refreshing time outside, cocooned in the warmth of my fleece-lined jacket—a tangible reminder of Kyle's goodness. He'd left it on my bed one evening, shortly after that walk back from the Blood Moon quarters.

I was consumed by a desire to lighten his burdens. I threw myself into my work at Kyle's house, yearning to show my support and gratitude for the kindness he so freely shared with my people. Each morning, I baked, transforming his kitchen into a haven of warmth and sweetness. I had discovered his favorite snacks were pecans. So, I'd set to caramelizing pecans with maple syrup and creating danishes with them. Their aroma filled the air with perfect fall flavors.

As I prepared his breakfasts, I grew increasingly aware of his habits, particularly his tendency to linger in the hall whenever I ate my full rations, checking that I was eating enough. It touched me deeply.

However, it became clear that Kyle rushed his own morning meals, restless energy driving him to seize the day with little more than a few mouthfuls to fuel him. No, Kyle was a "grab-and-go" kind of guy. I began adapting breakfast to suit him, whipping up smoothies loaded with vibrant greens and fresh flavors. He habitually demolished the green concoctions—spinach, apple, and mint became his favorite—leaving the sweeter berry blends. From then on, I stocked his cupboards with leafy greens. Each blend was a small token of my care.

Yet, my feelings burgeoned beyond simple admiration. An undeniable attachment to this man had developed, intertwining with the deep yearning that pulsed fiercely in my wolf. It felt as if my body came alive in response to his presence. It was something my body affirmed with changes. Heat radiated through me whenever he was near. My senses were heightened whenever he drew close.

Even a mundane task like ironing his shirts turned into a fevered undertaking. His musky pine scent beneath the fabric softener was enough to set frenzied fantasies swirling through me. Every time I ironed his shirts and pressed his trousers, I imagined my hands sweeping over these fabrics while hugging his solid, sculpted form. I felt my heart quicken and a flush creep over my cheeks as I battled with the primal call of the mate bond thrumming insistently through me, desperate to be satisfied.

One night, the urge to break free of our stifling routine became overpowering. The kitchen was steeped in the fragrant aroma of aniseed, fennel, and kiva, their scents mingling in the air like a spell. I felt daring as I walked the familiar path to his office door. Instead of simply knocking and leaving his tea outside as had been our routine, I decided that tonight, I was going to enter his office. Excitement coursed through my veins, my heart pounding with every step I took toward the door.

The steam from the teacup drifted over my face, and I felt like a witch trying to see through the hazy streams of time. Not a dark witch, no—my mother had once told me of an ancient prophetic ritual she'd witnessed in Silver Moon lands. It had required some of the rarest herbs from the deepest glaciers. Her words from the story filled my thoughts: "The witch was masked by her steaming cauldron, her eyes distant and unseeing, filled instead with visions of far-off horizons."

Standing at Kyle's door, my heart in my throat, I felt as if I'd been transported to those distant horizons and suddenly brought back to the moment. I wished that I could know the future and how Kyle would react. But I was just a shifter. Doubt crept in like a whisper in the shadows of my mind.

He's going to order you away.

I pushed the thought aside. I longed for the chance to stand before him, face-to-face, and convey how much his actions meant to the Blood Moon Pack.

Jitters coursed along my arms, igniting goosebumps on my skin beneath the fabric of my linen shirt. With resolve, I knocked briskly before stepping through the door.

"Kyle," I began, my voice steady yet laced with anticipation. "Can I talk to you for a moment?" The warm glow of the lamp on his desk illuminated his vibrant green eyes, now pooling with a mix of curiosity and tension.

For a moment, a flicker of hesitation crossed his face, and I feared he might dismiss me. Yet, with a deep breath, he said. "Sure. Come in."

Standing on the threshold, I took in the homey chaos of his office—the papers strewn across the desk, the scent of paper and ink wafting through the room. I grasped the cup of tea, suddenly self-conscious, before offering it to him.

He stood up and moved closer, accepting it. Lifting it to his nose, he asked. "What's this one got in it?"

I noticed a tiny smile resting in the corner of his mouth and took courage. "Aniseed, fennel, and kiva," I said.

He took a sip. "Mmm, it's good." His eyes brightened.

His contentment warmed me, and a glow of pride bloomed in my chest. I was far too pleased to see his satisfaction and hear his praise. I reminded myself that it was hardly me who was responsible for the effect. It was the herbs in the blend. "It's easy to make good tea with the treasure trove in your kitchen," I blurted, recalling the well-stocked supply cupboard I'd found. Many of the herbs and spices within came from Moonlight and Blood Moon soil, but plenty came from the other four shifter pack lands—some neighboring ours, while others hailed from much further away.

Kyle's eyes widened, and I watched his Adam's apple bob, an unreadable expression clouding his features. Anxiety rushed through me, concerned I might have inadvertently highlighted the disparities between our packs. My heart sank as I bit my lip, regretting my impulsive words. "Oh, I didn't mean—"

"They were inherited," he replied, his voice gruff and edged with defensiveness. "I never used to be much of a tea drinker. But this…I like it." He took another sip, the softness in his eyes returning as he relaxed.

As I studied him, I realized the meticulously labeled tins with elegant cursive scripts were different to his clean hand that wrote my chores out every day; I realized they must have belonged to his mother.

"Well, Fennel's good for the heart, and kiva's good for easing stress. Kiva's only found in the Shadow Moon Pack lands, so don't get too used to it," I waffled, half wanting to say something to put him at ease while the other half of me worried I'd put my foot in my mouth again.

"Where did you learn about herbs?" He watched me closely, a spark of curiosity burning in his gaze.

It was my turn to feel unsure about the turn this conversation had taken. "From my mother," I said, my voice wobbling. "She died in the war. She was our pack's healer. I inherited her position as pack herbalist."

Feeling vulnerable, I wished I could surrender my gaze to the safety of a cup of tea—for there was deep recognition in Kyle's eyes. But I held his gaze as he searched my face.

"I'm so sorry, Leah," he murmured, his voice thick. I felt his sincerity, heavy yet intimate.

"I'm sorry, too, Kyle," I replied gently, acknowledging the grief we both carried—a deep-rooted one we could never uproot. It was one we didn't want to, yet others insisted it would get easier in time.

Remembering why I'd come here, I said, "I wanted to say thank you, Kyle. For everything you're doing for the Blood Moon Pack." My voice was steady and sincere. "I want you to know I appreciate it, and you're making a real difference."

He blinked in surprise, his voice low as he managed. "You're welcome."

The gruffness of his voice reminded me of the commanding edge I'd sensed upon our return from the Blood Moon quarters— "Go to bed, Leah" . His powerful tone lingered between us but felt different. It was layered with the vulnerability we'd shared.

Caught in the intoxicating rhythm of our exchange and emboldened by my intuition, which whispered to me that he was struggling against his attachment to me too, I lingered. A surge of heat flooded my core, igniting a primal yearning I could scarcely contain. Before I could pause to think, I closed the distance between us, my lips finding his in a desperate rush.

Mmm, liquorice and spice.

The sensation exploded like fireworks. His warm lips melded with mine, gentle at first, then deepening into a fervent kiss. I barely registered when something thunked on the carpet near us; it was Kyle's tea, abandoned as his hands found the back of my neck. I curled my fingers into the taut fabric of his shirt, a visceral need blooming within me.

He tugged my hair just enough to coax a soft moan from my lips, and instinctively I bared my throat to him, surrendering to the instinct racing within. A primal growl rumbled from his chest, and in an instant, he lifted me onto his desk, papers tumbling off in the chaos of our urgent need for one another.

He tugged my shirt off up over my head as I lifted my arms to aid him, my heart racing in anticipation. His kisses traveled down my throat, lingering at the neckline of my vest top.

"Kyle," I gasped, my senses igniting at the feel of his hard body against me, every muscle honed with undeniable strength. His pine scent that had been driving me wild these last few weeks washed over me now, and I breathed it in deeply, feeling as if I wanted to swim in it. As he pressed closer, my parted thighs found his hard length through his jeans, and my blood felt as if it was boiling with need. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my hips moving instinctively, craving that delicious friction.

But just as I felt sure that this heat tearing through me was about to be appeased, a wave of dizziness washed over me, pulling me beneath its tide. My limbs turned heavy, the room spun wildly, and suddenly everything about Kyle—the shape of his sculpted jaw, the intensity of his green gaze—blurred before me.

"Kyle, " I gasped, my voice fading.

Just before darkness claimed me, his embrace surrounded me, his warmth swallowing me whole as the world dimmed to black.