POV - James
I hadn't planned to stay.
I'd meant to leave after she fell asleep, to give her space, to do the right thing. But when she curled against me, her breathing soft and even, something inside me refused to move.
So I stayed.
Now, morning light filtered through her curtains — pale gold, soft as her skin. The city murmured outside, but in here, time had slowed to the pace of her heartbeat.
She slept beside me on the sofa, the blanket tangled around us, her hair spilling over my arm. I could feel her warmth even in the smallest movement she made. My hand rested against her back, feeling the slow rise and fall of her breath, the steady rhythm that made everything else quiet.
For a long while, I just watched her.
Every curve of her face, the faint crease between her brows, the way her lips parted slightly as she dreamed.
The wolf in me was calm — utterly calm — in a way I hadn't felt in years.
I leaned in, unable to resist, and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. Then another, softer, just beneath her jaw. She stirred, eyelashes fluttering, her breath catching faintly.
"Morning," she murmured, voice thick with sleep.
"Morning," I whispered back, my lips brushing her skin.
She turned toward me, and our eyes met — sleepy, unguarded, full of warmth. And in that look, all the restraint I'd built through the night began to unravel.
I kissed her — slowly, at first. A good-morning kiss that deepened before either of us could stop it.
The world narrowed again — just her, her hands finding me, her breath mixing with mine.
There was nothing rushed in it. Nothing that needed words.
Just the inevitable pull between two souls that had already chosen each other, long before either of us understood why.
When it ended, we stayed close, foreheads touching, both smiling like fools.
"I could get used to waking up like this," she whispered.
"Then don't stop me," I murmured, brushing a thumb across her cheek.
She laughed softly, but I could see the flicker of worry in her eyes when she glanced toward the clock. "I have to go to work…"
I smiled. "So do I."
Her brow arched slightly. "You mean with me?"
"Why not?" I said easily. "I don't want to hide, Elena. Not what we have."
She hesitated, chewing her lip — the same nervous habit that made my heart ache. "People will talk."
"Let them," I said simply. "They talk anyway."
She looked at me for a long moment, caught between reason and the pull that tied us together. I could see the battle in her eyes — duty versus desire, logic versus something far older and deeper.
Finally, she exhaled and smiled, small and helpless. "You're impossible."
"I've been called worse."
She laughed, shaking her head, but the laughter faded into something softer — a quiet acceptance that felt like surrender. "All right," she whispered. "Come with me."
I leaned in, kissed her again — slower this time, more certain — and when I pulled back, she was smiling, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.
The morning had turned golden by the time we got ready — her hair pulled back, my shirt half-buttoned, both of us pretending to be composed while failing miserably.
As we stepped out into the crisp air, she looked up at me, a touch of nervousness still in her smile.
"You really have no shame, do you?"
"None," I said, and reached for her hand. "Not when it comes to you."
She let me take it — and for the first time, she didn't pull away.
The city moved around us, indifferent, but I could feel it — that quiet hum between us growing stronger, deeper, as if the air itself knew what we were becoming.
And as we walked toward the day, side by side, I realized something simple and terrifying:
Every step we took together was one closer to the truth neither of us could outrun.
…
Days at work used to feel endless.
Now, they passed in the blink of an eye — because every second I spent pretending to be normal was an exercise in restraint.
The office looked the same as always: glass walls, quiet efficiency, the faint hum of computers. But to me, everything had changed.
She had changed it.
Elena moved through the floor with the same calm focus as always — polite, efficient, professional. But I could feel her presence like a current under my skin.
It wasn't telepathy. It wasn't magic. It was the bond, alive and humming, stretching between us no matter how far apart we stood.
I caught myself looking at her too often.
When she smiled faintly at something on her screen. When she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.
My wolf stirred every time — not with hunger, but with something worse: need.
To protect. To keep. To claim.
But she didn't know what that meant yet.
And until she did, I couldn't.
I forced my focus back to the day. Reports. Numbers. Calls.
My father's voice echoed in one of the morning meetings, asking for updates on the European branch — I answered automatically, my mind elsewhere.
By noon, Selene appeared.
My sister never announced herself; she simply arrived — like a gust of cold air.
The door opened, and there she was — sharp in a tailored coat, a spark of mischief in her blue eyes that matched mine.
"Busy?" she asked, closing the door behind her.
"Always."
"Liar," she said, dropping gracefully into the chair across from me. "You've got that look."
"What look?"
"The I'm in love with someone I'm not supposed to be in love with look."
I gave her a dry glance. "You've always been dramatic."
"Comes with being the youngest," she replied sweetly. "So… she's the one?"
My pulse stuttered before I could stop it. "Selene—"
"Oh, come on," she said, leaning forward. "I could smell her scent on you from the elevator. You reek of happiness. It's disgusting."
I tried not to smile. "You've always had a gift for compliments."
Her grin softened. "Does she know?"
"Not yet."
Selene's teasing faded. "And you're sure, James?"
"I don't need to be sure," I said quietly. "I know."
Her expression softened. "Then you'd better prepare her. The Council will move faster than you think. I overheard rumors this morning — the Elders have convened again. Something about unusual activity near the Veil lines in the northern territories."
I frowned. "It's starting."
She nodded. "And if the energy spike they felt is connected to her…"
"It is," I said flatly.
Selene leaned back, exhaling. "Then you're running out of time, brother."
Her words stayed with me long after she left.
By the time Lucian appeared in the doorway, the sun was already slipping behind the skyline, the office bathed in muted gold.
He didn't bother knocking. "You look like you've aged a decade since morning," he said.
"I might have."
He came closer, dropping a folder onto my desk. "Updates from Rowena. She's been tracking the Veil's pulse since last night. It's… moving."
"Moving?"
Lucian nodded. "Ripples. Subtle, but spreading outward — centered here, in the city."
I stared at him. "Because of her."
"Yes."
I rubbed a hand over my jaw, the weight of it settling in my chest. "Then we can't wait any longer."
Lucian folded his arms. "You're sure?"
"She's feeling it already," I said quietly. "I can tell. The senses, the pull, the warmth. She doesn't understand what it is yet — but it's waking."
"And you?"
"I'm holding it together."
He gave a faint smirk. "Barely."
I ignored that. "We need to guide the awakening before the Council senses it. You said the ritual could help."
"It can," he agreed, "but it has to be done willingly. She has to walk into it herself. No coercion, no manipulation."
"I'd never force her," I said sharply.
"I know you wouldn't," he replied. "But you'll need a catalyst. Something that calls to her — something her blood recognizes even if her mind doesn't."
I frowned. "What kind of catalyst?"
Lucian hesitated, then reached into his coat and pulled out a small object wrapped in dark cloth. He unrolled it carefully on my desk.
It was a pendant — silver, old, the shape of a crescent moon entwined with a flame. Ancient markings ran along its edge, the same symbols I'd seen in the prophecy's scrolls.
"This was hers," he said quietly. "Her mother's. It was found with the ashes of their house after the raid twenty-six years ago. I've kept it hidden since."
I stared at it — the faint glimmer of light catching in its grooves.
"How the hell did you—"
"Your father asked me to recover what I could from the site," he said. "Back when you were still too young to understand what really happened. I kept this because I knew it mattered. And now I know why."
I reached out, fingers brushing the pendant. The metal was warm. Too warm.
It pulsed faintly — once, twice — in time with my heartbeat.
"She'll feel it," Lucian said. "The moment she touches it, her blood will know. The first step of awakening begins with remembrance."
I looked up at him. "And after that?"
Lucian's eyes darkened. "After that, there's no turning back."
For a long moment, I said nothing. The hum of the city filled the silence between us — distant horns, the faint vibration of power that always lingered where she was.
Finally, I wrapped the pendant carefully in the cloth again. "Tomorrow," I said. "I'll give it to her tomorrow."
Lucian inclined his head. "I'll inform Rowena. She'll be ready if the awakening triggers the Veil."
"Thank you."
He paused at the door. "James… are you ready for what happens after?"
I looked at the small bundle in my hand, feeling the weight of fate pressing against my palm. "I don't think anyone ever is."
When he left, I stood alone by the window, the last light of the city flickering below.
Somewhere out there, Elena was probably finishing her day — blissfully unaware that the world she thought she knew was already bending around her.
And tomorrow, when she touched this pendant… everything would change.
For her.
For me.
For all of us