POV Blake
So turns out having a full conversation with the wolf living in your head is exactly as weird as it sounds.
‘Finally,’ she says, and her voice is like warm honey mixed with satisfaction. ‘Twenty years I've been waiting, and you choose now to let me out?’
I'm still on all fours, trying to process that I have four legs and a tail, while my wolf apparently has opinions.
‘All those years of being told you were broken,’ she continues, stretching through our shared body like she's testing the controls. ‘I was here the whole time. Waiting. But you believed them.’
‘I believed facts,’ I argue back, because even in wolf form I'm defensive. ‘No shift equals no wolf. Basic math.’
‘Basic bullshit. You were terrified. Of failing, of proving them right, of being less than perfect Amelia.’ She pauses. ‘Also, your parents are assholes.’
Great. My wolf has my personality.
This should be fun.
Matthias's voice cuts through my internal therapy session. "Look at yourself. The mirror."
Right. Because what every girl wants during her first magical transformation is to check her appearance.
But I pad over to the full-length mirror anyway, and—
Oh.
Oh fuck.
I'm... gorgeous? That feels conceited to think, but there's no other word. My wolf form is lean muscle and elegant lines, built for both speed and power. But that's not what makes my blood freeze.
It's the coloring.
Where Amelia's wolf was gray with a distinctive white chest—I remember from her journal sketches—I'm the photo negative. White base coat with gray markings across my chest and paws.
Like someone took her wolf and hit inverse on Photoshop.
We're clearly sisters. Clearly twins. Clearly not the same fucking wolf.
My cover is blown. Spectacularly, irrevocably blown. No amount of creative lying explains why "Amelia's" wolf suddenly changed color schemes.
"You're beautiful," Matthias breathes, and my wolf preens like she just won Best in Show.
‘He sees us. Really sees us,’ she practically purrs.
I bask in the warmth of his words for a moment longer, letting them wrap around me like a blanket. But magic can’t hold back biology forever.
A new wave of pain crashes over me, dragging me under once again.
The shift back is just as painful as the shift to—apparently my body likes symmetry in its torture. Bones crack back into boring human configurations while my wolf grumbles about finally getting out only to be shoved back in.
‘Not shoved,’ I tell her. ‘Strategic retreat.’
‘Coward.’
‘Realist.’
When I'm finally human-shaped again, I grab my clothes with shaking hands. Matthias watches every movement, his expression unreadable. The pull thrums between us, stronger now, like my shift amplified the connection.
Time to face the music.
"I'm Blake."
There. Simple. Direct.
Like ripping off a bandaid made of lies and identity theft.
His response is a single nod. Calm. Unsurprised. Like I just told him water is wet.
"You knew." It's not a question.
"Suspected." He moves closer, careful, like I might bolt. Smart man. "How long has it been since your last shift?"
I laugh, but it comes out cracked. "Try never. First time. Twenty years of being the family freak, and my wolf picks tonight for her debut."
Something flickers across his face. "Amelia told me once that ‘the Moon Goddess had special plans for Blake.’"
The words hit like a physical blow. My sister, still protecting me from beyond the grave, still believing in me when I'd given up.
"She said watching you would be an honor. That your wolf would be worth the wait." His voice goes soft. "She was right."
That's it. That's all I can take.
Twenty years of being worthless, of being less than, of being wrong—and he's looking at me like I'm a fucking miracle.
The tears come hard and fast. Ugly crying, the kind with snot and hiccups and zero dignity. Matthias pulls me against his chest, and I sob into him like a broken faucet.
"I'm sorry," I gasp between tears. "I'm so sorry. I lied and pretended and—"
"Shh." His hand strokes my hair. "I know. I've known."
I pull back, searching his face. "Since when?"
"Since the beginning." He cups my face, thumbs wiping away tears. "The moment you walked down that aisle, my wolf went insane. Mate, mate, mate. But I'd met Amelia eight times, and my wolf never reacted to her."
My brain short-circuits. "The... the pull I felt?"
"Mate bond." His smile is gentle. "You felt it too, didn't you? That first kiss at the altar?"
The world rearranges itself. Every moment, every touch, every overwhelming urge to climb him like a tree… mate bond.
We're mates. Actual, fated, Moon-Goddess-ordained mates.
"But I'm—"
"Perfect." He cuts me off. "You're perfect. Not Amelia, who I respected but never loved. You, Blake. My mate."
"I'm the defective twin," I protest weakly.
"You're the woman who loves our pack kids, who makes our warriors better, who brought light to this territory." His eyes burn with intensity. "Your parents didn't give me a replacement. They gave me my wife, my Luna… my love."
That's all my self-control can take.
I crash my lips against his, pouring every emotion into the kiss—gratitude, desire, bone-deep relief that he knows and doesn't hate me. He responds instantly, backing me against the wall with controlled desperation.
"Blake," he growls against my mouth, and hearing my real name in his voice unravels me completely.
What follows is desperate and perfect and slightly athletic. The mate bond sings between us, finally acknowledged and accepted.
After, tangled in sheets and satisfaction, I trace patterns on his chest. "What now?"
"Now?" He presses a kiss to my temple. "You're mine now. My mate, my Luna, my pack. No one gets to hurt you anymore."
The possessive growl in his voice makes my wolf preen. ‘Our mate will protect us.’
‘From my parents?’ I ask her skeptically.
‘From anyone who tries to take us from him. We are home, Blake.’
Home.
The word settles in my chest like truth. For the first time in twenty years, I'm exactly where I belong.