Hour of the Moon

Chapter 16: The beignning of the Hunt

Keiran

His words infuriated and haunted me.
But beneath it all — beneath the anger, the confusion, the lingering scent of rain and cedar he'd left behind — my heart ached in a way I couldn't name.

The only indication of his departure was the door clicking shut, soft as a sigh.

I refused to cry.
Not over a man.
And certainly not over a man who wasn't mine.

Have I really sunk to such a low point?

The ache beneath my ribs pulsed like a wound that wouldn't clot.
It wasn't just longing. It was something older — irrational, supernatural, like my body had been rewritten to crave him.
No, not him — whatever he was.

I could still feel the ghost of his touch against my fingers.
The air still hummed with the memory of almost.

I needed a distraction. Something human. Something normal.
So I changed, pulled my hair into a loose bun, and left the apartment before the silence could suffocate me.

⸻

The Howler was alive with noise — the clatter of glass, the drone of commentary, the laughter of people untouched by curses or impossible attraction.
It should've been comforting. Instead, it just made me feel more alone.

Monday Night Football.
Some team with a terrible record was losing badly, and the room roared every time they failed again.

Perfect.

I slid into the farthest corner booth, the one near the dartboard and the jukebox that always stuck halfway through a Johnny Cash song.
I ordered a cheeseburger and a hard cider, praying greasy food could drown out thoughts of wolves and fae and eyes that saw too much.

My phone buzzed. Work emails, ignored. Amanda's text, unread. I didn't want to talk to anyone who wasn't entirely human.

"Keiran?"

I looked up — and froze.

Nanye-hi was making her way through the crowd, radiant as always, her smile warm enough to melt the edges of guilt already creeping through me.

God.

"Hey, Nani," I said, forcing a smile. "How have you been?"

"I'm well," she said, eyes bright. "Do you want to sit with me and Waya? Did you come by yourself? Is Ahiga with you?"

My throat tightened at his name — Waya.
I didn't need to look to know exactly where he was sitting.
I could feel him.
That impossible gravity.
That pull.

And he felt me too; I knew it. The weight of his gaze pressed against the back of my neck.

"I'm here alone," I managed, steady enough to pass for calm. "Thanks for the offer, though."

Her smile faltered slightly. Disappointment softened her features.
"You sure? Also, how have your migraines been?"

"They've subsided," I said. "Thanks for asking."

She nodded, searching my face with that intuitive warmth of hers.
"Well, if you change your mind, come on over. You're always welcome."

"Actually," I said, clinging to something like courage, "if you're free this week, maybe we can grab coffee? Or dinner?"

Her eyes lit up. "I'd love that. I'll send you my schedule."

"Perfect."

She returned to her table, and I caught the briefest flash of him rising slightly to let her sit — the brush of his hand at her back, the quiet protectiveness in the gesture.
They looked perfect together. Effortless. Natural.
And it gutted me.

Because whatever existed between him and me wasn't natural.
It was chemical, cosmic, wrong.

I told myself Ahiga was who I should be thinking about — kind, grounded, safe.
But the truth was written across my body in pulse and heat:
I didn't want safe.
I wanted ruin.

I took a long sip of cider, the bitterness cutting through my chest.
Maybe one day, I'd believe the lies I told myself.

⸻

Waya

I heard her before I saw her — the sound of her heartbeat threading through the noise of the bar, steady but tight.
The wolf in me went still, like prey had entered the room.

She was sitting alone, bathed in the low amber glow of the TV, her hair pulled up, neck exposed.
Every instinct I had rebelled against the distance between us.

Nani's voice pulled me back to the present.
"I'm worried about her," she said softly, glancing toward Keiran's table. "She looks... lost. Maybe I should text Ahiga to come keep her company."

The name twisted something sharp in my chest.

"She's not yours," my wolf whispered, cruel and knowing.

I took a drink instead of answering.

Nani looked at me, confusion furrowing her brow. "What's wrong with Ahiga?"

"Nothing," I said too quickly.

"They're dating now," she said, eyes bright with excitement. "Didn't he tell you?"

I gritted my teeth. "I assumed it was one date."

"It started as one," she said. "But I think they're good for each other. She needs someone steady. He's always been that."

I nodded, pretending to agree, though my pulse had turned into a dull roar in my ears.
The scent of Ahiga was still on her — faint but distinct, threaded with her perfume.
He'd been close. Too close.

Jealousy tasted like iron on my tongue.

"She's not one of us, Nani," I said finally.

"I know." Nani sighed, her gaze softening. "But there's something about her... she doesn't feel entirely human, does she? Her scent lingers."

A chill climbed my spine.

"She's... different," I admitted, and the words came out heavier than I intended.

Nani smiled wistfully. "I like her. I want her to stay. Maybe we should all go out sometime — a double date with Ahiga."

The suggestion hit me like a blow I couldn't deflect.

"Sure," I said quietly. "Maybe."

She beamed, content with my answer.

But inside, I could still feel the heat of Keiran's skin against my fingertips — the phantom echo of her breath trembling near mine.
Every nerve in my body remembered what I was trying to forget.

I turned my head, just slightly, enough to catch her reflection in the bar mirror.

She wasn't looking at us — but her hand was pressed flat against the table, her eyes unfocused, her lips parted as if she, too, was remembering something she shouldn't.

The wolf in me stirred, restless, whispering the truth I didn't want to hear.

You can lie to the pack. You can lie to her fiancé. But not to the bond.

I took another drink, the burn chasing down my throat like penance.
And when I glanced up again, she was gone — only the scent of cider and heartbreak left behind.