The aftermath of Simon's first shift left the Moonlight Pack in a state of stunned reverence. For weeks, the whispers didn't stop. They spoke of the "Metallic Wolf," the heir whose fur shimmered like enchanted armor and whose roar sounded like rolling thunder. But for Simon, the glory of his new form was quickly overshadowed by a new, suffocating reality: the pressure of being the most eligible Alpha in history.
By the time Simon turned seventeen, he had filled out into a powerhouse of a man. His shoulders were broad, his jawline was sharp enough to draw blood, and his turquoise eyes possessed a magnetic intensity that made it impossible for anyone to look away. He was a masterpiece of genetic blending, and every female of mating age in the territory knew it.
"Simon! Wait up!"
Simon closed his eyes for a brief second, suppressive a growl. He was trying to make his way to the training sheds, but a group of five she-wolves had intercepted him near the pack's central fountain.
"We were thinking of going for a run toward the southern border," Sarah said, stepping forward. She was the daughter of one of the pack's high-ranking warriors, and she had made it her life's mission to be the next Luna. She flipped her chestnut hair, scenting the air with a heavy, artificial perfume that smelled like roses and desperation. "We thought you might want to lead us. You know, for 'safety'."
Simon looked down at her, his expression as cold as a mountain spring. "The border is patrolled by the sentries, Sarah. You're perfectly safe. I have drills to run."
"Oh, come on, Simon," another girl, Maya, chimed in, stepping close enough to touch his arm. "You're always training. Don't you ever want to... play?"
The moment her fingers brushed the skin of his forearm, Simon felt a jolt of irritation. It wasn't the "Bond Spark" he saw in his dreams; it was an invasive, oily sensation that made his skin crawl. His wolf rumbled in his chest, a low, warning vibration that made the girls take a half-step back.
"I don't play," Simon said, his voice dropping into a dangerous register. "And I don't like to be touched. Move."
As the girls scrambled away, miffed and whispering, a familiar shadow fell over the path.
"You know, you could be a little nicer to them," Stella said, leaning against a stone pillar with a smirk. She was holding a basket of fresh laundry, but her eyes were sharp. "They're just admiring the view, Simon Peter."
"They're suffocating me, Mom," Simon grumbled, rubbing his arm where Maya had touched him. "I can't even walk to the gym without being ambushed. Their scents are everywhere. It's like being trapped in a flower shop that's on fire."
Stella laughed, walking over to join him. "That's because your senses are ten times stronger than a normal wolf's, honey. You're smelling their hormones, their intentions, and their hairspray all at once. It's the 'Mate Fever.' Your body is looking for its match, and because it hasn't found her, it's rejecting everyone else like a poison."
Simon sighed, his shoulders sagging. "Is it always going to be like this? This... loneliness?"
Stella's expression softened. She reached up, despite his height, and cupped his face. "No. But you aren't like your father. You're a Tribrid. Your soul isn't just looking for a Luna; it's looking for a balance. Until you find the one whose scent actually clears your head instead of giving you a headache, you're going to be a very cranky Alpha."
The pressure didn't just come from the girls; it came from the pack's expectations. Every formal dinner was an ordeal. Michael and Stella would sit at the head of the table, and Simon would be placed strategically across from whichever daughter of a Beta or Gamma was being "introduced" that week.
"Simon," Michael said one evening during a particularly tense dinner with a visiting Alpha from a minor pack. "Alpha Greg's daughter, Clara, is a top-tier tracker. She actually led her pack's hunt last moon."
Clara, a tall girl with sharp features, gave Simon a predatory smile. "I've heard the future Alpha of Moonlight is a warrior without equal. I'd love to see if you can keep up with me in the woods."
Simon didn't even look up from his steak. "I prefer to run alone."
The table went silent. Michael cleared his throat, looking at Stella for help, but Stella just sipped her wine, hidden amusement dancing in her eyes. She knew her son was at his breaking point.
After dinner, Simon retreated to the one place he felt sane: the rooftop of the pack house. He sat on the edge, legs dangling over the side, looking out at the vast forest.
The loneliness hit him then, a physical weight in his chest. He closed his eyes and tried to summon the dream. It was the only thing that kept him going.
The silver hair. The violet eyes. The cold, crisp air of the North.
He could almost smell her now—something that didn't smell like a flower shop or a hunt. It was the scent of rain on dry earth, of sandalwood, and of the moon itself. It was a scent that didn't exist in the Moonlight Pack.
'Where are you?' he thought, his heart aching.
Suddenly, a strange sensation washed over him. It was a "pull," a tugging at the center of his being. It felt like a silver thread was hooked into his ribs, pulling his gaze toward the Northern horizon.
His eyes snapped open, glowing a brilliant, piercing turquoise. The air around him dropped a few degrees.
'The Starlight Pack,' his wolf whispered.
Simon stood up, his heart racing. He didn't know why, but he knew that the answer was in the North. He stayed there for hours, a lone sentinel on the roof, watching the stars and waiting for a sign.
The sign came three days later.
Simon was in the middle of a sparring match with three senior warriors when Michael walked onto the training grounds, a letter in his hand and a strange look on his face.
"Simon! Break!" Michael shouted.
Simon stood over a downed warrior, his chest heaving. He wiped sweat from his eyes and walked over to his father. "What is it?"
"We've received word from the Starlight Pack," Michael said, his voice carrying a hint of excitement. "Alpha David and Luna Roseline are requesting a summit. They want to discuss the shifting borders and a joint effort to push back the rogue activity in the neutral zones."
Simon felt the silver thread in his chest tighten. The pull was so strong he almost stumbled.
"They're coming here?" Simon asked, his voice rasping.
"In two weeks," Michael confirmed. "And they're bringing their daughter, Evelyn. It's her first official diplomatic visit."
Evelyn.
The name vibrated in Simon's mind like a struck bell. He didn't know how he knew, but the moment he heard the name, the "Mate Fever" flared into a white-hot flame. The restlessness that had plagued him for years suddenly had a direction.
"Simon? You okay?" Michael asked, narrowing his eyes. "You've got that look again. Like you're about to shift right here in the dirt."
Simon took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing pulse. The metallic shimmer beneath his skin flickered once, then vanished.
"I'm fine, Dad," Simon said, though his voice was thick with emotion. "I'll make sure the sentries are ready. We need to make sure the Starlight Pack feels... welcome."
As Michael walked away, Simon turned back to the North. The loneliness was still there, but for the first time, it was accompanied by hope.
The girl with the silver hair was coming. The stars were finally aligning, and Simon Peter Moonlight knew that when the SUVs rolled into the clearing in two weeks, his life, and the fate of the four kingdoms, would never be the same.
"I'm waiting," he whispered to the wind. "Come home."