The bell above the door chimed a bit too loud as Hannah walked into the modiste’s store.

Every head turned towards the door, because in just a few days, they could already guess who walked in, whenever the bell chimed that way.

Hannah paused just inside the entrance, allowing the attention to settle on her. Her chin lifted slightly, with silver-threaded curls falling perfectly over her shoulders as she adjusted the gloves on her hands.

She took her time as she had always done whenever she arrived here.

The store itself was beautiful in that curated way. Soft fabrics were draped across mannequins, pastel silks were folded with care, and measuring tapes hanged loosely around the necks of busy seamstresses.

The place smelled like perfume and pressed cloth. So delicate, and refined. Alas, it was entirely beneath her mood.

"Finally," she said, her voice cutting cleanly through the quiet hum of work. "I was beginning to think this place had forgotten what urgency meant."

The head modiste hurried forward immediately, her smile stretched just enough to be polite without breaking.

"Lady Hannah, we weren’t expecting—"

"That much is obvious," Hannah cut in, glancing around with mild dissatisfaction.

Her eyes swept over a half-finished gown on display.

She tilted her head. "Is that supposed to be for the ball?" she asked.

The modiste hesitated. "It is one of the commissioned—"

"It’s dull," Hannah said simply.

A few of the seamstresses exchanged glances, obviously displeased by her very presence.

Hannah noticed. "I assume the more... important pieces are being handled elsewhere," she added, walking further into the shop without waiting to be invited.

The modiste followed quickly.

"Of course, my lady. We have several designs prepared for the Luna ceremony, just as you had asked."

Hannah stopped. "The Luna ceremony," she repeated. Her lips curved into a smile, but there was no warmth in it.

"Yes," the modiste said carefully. "For Lady Aire, and everyine who wanted one."

Hannah let out a soft, amused breath. "Oh, please." The words were light, and dismissive. "The Luna is my cousin, like I said the last time I was here. Now, my cousin," she said, brushing invisible lint from her sleeve, "is about to complete the Luna ritual."

The room quieted further. The possessiveness behind Hannah’s tune couldn’t be mistaken.

"And while I may not have always agreed with her... disposition," Hannah continued, her tone almost thoughtful, "she is still mine."

"She will stand as Luna," Hannah said, glancing at the unfinished dresses again. "And I will not look like... this."

Her gaze flicked back to the modiste with expectation and demand.

"Of course," the woman said quickly. "We have more refined options prepared."

"You should have started with those," Hannah replied smoothly. She lifted her chin with pride. If she couldn’t be Luna, she would as well use the privileges of being a close aquintance of the Luna.

She moved again, with her fingers trailing lightly over a bolt of silk before dismissing it just as quickly.

"This ball will be attended by every Alpha worth naming," she went on. "Every eye will be on me." she shrugged thoughtfully, then added. "And by extension... on her."

A seamstress nearby almost scoffed.

Hannah heard it. Her head turned slowly, and their eyes met.

The girl froze.

Hannah gaze turned cold. "Is something amusing?" she asked.

The seamstress shook her head quickly. "No, my lady."

"Good," Hannah said. "Because I would hate to think you were laughing at something you clearly don’t understand."

The girl dropped her gaze immediately.

Hannah held it for a moment longer. Then turned away like she had already forgotten her.

"I want the best fabrics," she said, addressing the room again. "The best designs. Something worthy of a Luna."

Whether she liked Aire or not, no one else would dare look down on her. Especially not now she could prove to be useful.

"Bring me your finest work," she added, already moving toward a chair as if the space belonged to her. "I don’t have all day."

......

The corridor outside Aire’s room was quiet.

Xanden stood there longer than he should have, and definately longer than necessary. His hand hovered near the door for a brief moment before dropping to his side.

His jaw tightened. He shouldn’t be here, and he knew that. Every part of him that still thought clearly knew that.

However, his wolf had been restless since morning, pacing, pushing, and demanding for him to come to her.

Xanden exhaled slowly, then knocked once. He opened the door almost immediately.

Aire was seated on the bed.

She looked up immediately when the door opemed, surprised.

"Xanden?"

His name left her lips softly. She hadn’t expected him here, but she also didn’t mind that he was there.

He closed the door behind him carefully.

"I thought you’d be with Madam," he said. His voice was lower than usual, and rougher.

Aire tilted her head slightly. "I was," she replied. "I dismissed her for the night. Also, I haven’t thanked you for that day at the hall."

Xanden nodded. "I did nothing You were visibly burnt out."

Aire nodded. If Xanden haven’t intervened, and challenged Nate, she would have practiced until her toe nails proved useless.

"What are you doing here?" she asked after a while.

She looked up at him, and the candle lights reflected beautifully in her blue eyes, almost Marking her out as an enchantress, as her silver hair freely glowed down her back, and pooled on the bed.

Xanden didn’t answer immediately. The truth wasn’t something he could say out loud. She was cursed. He shouldn’t want her, yet, here he was.

’I couldn’t stay away.’ His wolf stirred again in his head, demanding to be let free. ’Closer, closer.’ It commanded Xanden.

His eyes glowed golden slightly.

Aire noticed it. She knew what that meant. He was having a conversation with his wolf at the moment.

She sit up just a little straighter.

"Xanden?" she called again, softer this time. She sounded as if she was urging him to do what he wanted.

She felt a sudden need of his warmth, and something in her leaped. She felt a strange sensation moving in her, almost burning.

Xanden moved forward. This time, he closed the distance between them.

Aire didn’t get off the bed. She didn’t even make an effort to move away. She just... watched him.

Her breath caught slightly as he came closer.

There was something different about him tonight. She felt a strange pull towards him. A pull so strong that no doubt she’ll give up forever just to touch him at the moment.

"Tell me to leave," he said quietly, breaking the tensed silence.

The words surprised her.

"What?"

"Tell me to leave," he repeated. His voice came out strained, and barely controlled.

Aire frowned slightly. "I don’t—"

He interrupted her. "Say it." He asked, almost frustrated.

Her lips parted, but the words didn’t come. She tried to recall why, but she couldn’t tell why she didn’t want him to leave.

And the moment she realized that everything had shifted between them.

Xanden saw it. He felt it, and so did his wolf. His control snapped. He reached for her with a quick urgency that made her breath hitch.

His hand found her arm first, warm and firm. Yet gentle enough to give her a soothing sensation.

Aire inhaled sharply. Her body reacted before her mind could catch up, and slowly, her heart surrendered.

She should have pulled away, questioned this, or stopped it. Yet, she didn’t. A dominant part of her leaned into it.

"Xanden..." she whispered. She tried to make his name sound like a warning, and failed miserably.

His other hand came up slowly, brushing against her waist.

She didn’t stop him. Her fingers tightened slightly against the sheets instead. His breath was closer now, and warmer.

She could feel it against her skin. And her heart wouldn’t slow down.

"You feel it too," he murmured.

Aire swallowed. "Yes," she admitted. Her voice was soft, and barely there.

That was all it took.

His control slipped further. His hand tightened slightly at her waist, pulling her just a little closer.

His pull was not strong enough to scare her. The distance between them disappear in the snap of a finger.

Aire gasped softly. The sound didn’t leave the room. It stayed between them. She was awkwardly pressed against his chest now, not knowing if she should touch him.

His forehead almost touched hers now.

Her breath hitched again. She didn’t even try to steady it.

His hand moved slowly, and carefully, tracing the curve of her side in a way that made her body respond without permission.

Aire’s fingers curled into his shirt lightly. She needed something to hold onto. Her fingers made contact with his strudy chest.

"Xanden..." His name came out softer now, and uncertain.

How did they even get here?

His wolf surged again. This time, Xanden didn’t fight it. He leaned in, and their lips met in an inevitable soft contact.

Aire froze for half a second in shock. She didn’t know what to do about it. Xanden tilt his head, siezing her lips further, and she melted into it.

A soft gasp slipped between their lips as the contact deepened. Her grip on him tightened, holding him there.

Xanden’s restraint shattered quietly. He fell in deeply, surrendering to the pull, and completely to her.

His hand tightened at her waist again, anchoring her closer as the moment deepened, slow, consuming, and impossible to step away from.

Aire didn’t stop him. She didn’t pull away. At that moment, nothing else mattered between them.

All that mattered at the moment was just him, this, and the way her heart refused to calm down.

What’s worse? She didn’t want it to.