Guilded Moon: A Sapphic Fantasy Romance (QueerWolf Book 3), page 3
I looked away. Back at the map. Back at that damn river smudge.
They kept talking.
I let them.
Because right now, I didn't know whether I wanted to lead them or run.
The conversation continued around me, voices rising and falling in the rhythm of wolves planning war. But I felt separate from it, isolated by my own caution and the growing certainty that I was becoming irrelevant in my own house.
We were almost done when it happened.
Naomi was outlining fallback protocols, her voice even and precise, when I felt it. A shift in the room. Quiet but sharp. Like the pressure changed.
The air itself seemed to thicken, carrying a scent that made every nerve in my body snap to attention. Young wolf, female, nervous but determined. Unknown but somehow familiar in a way that made my chest tight.
I looked up.
Maya stood in the doorway.
She hadn't knocked. Hadn't said a word. Just stood there, her hands tucked into the sleeves of her jacket, shoulders hunched like she wasn't sure if she'd come to ask a question or simply couldn't keep still.
She was smaller than I'd expected, built like Alexis but softer around the edges in the way of wolves who hadn't been fully tested yet. Her dark hair, a reminder of her father, was pulled back in a messy braid, and there were shadows under her eyes that spoke of too many sleepless nights.
Every instinct in me bristled.
Not with threat but with recognition. Something in the way she held herself, the angle of her jaw, the careful way she watched the room triggered memories I'd buried so deep I'd forgotten they existed.
She was staring at Alexis, then at the table, then those amber eyes shifted to me.
Our gazes met.
The floor might as well have given out beneath me.
It was like looking into a mirror that reflected not my face but my soul. The same intensity, the same careful assessment, the same walls built high enough to keep the world at bay. But underneath it all was something else… a hunger I recognized, a need for belonging that she tried to hide but couldn't quite manage.
It was her mother's stare. That same strength wrapped in hesitation. That same too-old grief swimming behind her pupils. Goddess, she looked so much like her.
My mate.
My heart.
My greatest failure.
The resemblance was subtle but unmistakable now that I was looking for it. The shape of her eyes, the stubborn set of her mouth, the way she held her head when she was thinking. All the little details I'd catalogued and memorized and lost.
Alexis's posture shifted immediately, protective without moving. She didn't say anything, but her body leaned slightly, like she was ready to step between us if this went badly.
The tension in the room ratcheted up another notch. Everyone could feel it now, the weight of something significant happening, even if they didn't understand what.
Naomi cleared her throat. "Maya, wasn't it? Do you need something?"
Maya didn't answer. Just shook her head. Her gaze hadn't left mine.
We stared at each other across the room, across years of secrets and lies and careful distance. I wanted to look away, to break the connection before it became something I couldn't control. But I was trapped by the recognition in her eyes, by the growing certainty that she knew exactly who I was.
I tried to hold steady. I had stared down full-grown Alphas with blood still wet on their teeth. But this girl, this not-quite-woman with war behind her and innocence just out of reach, she unraveled me with nothing more than a look.
Because she was mine. Not in the way the pack was mine, not through dominance or territory or choice. She was mine the way breath was mine, the way heartbeat was mine. Essential and irreplaceable and absolutely terrifying.
Alexis took a step toward her, voice soft. "We're finishing up. You can wait with the others if you don't want to nap."
But her eyes never left me, and I could see the questions forming, the pieces clicking together in a mind too sharp for her own good.
Maya blinked, then nodded. She lingered, just long enough to make it feel like something had passed between us, some acknowledgment of the truth we both carried, then turned and disappeared down the hall.
The second she was gone, I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
My hands were shaking. I pressed them flat against the table, using the solid wood to anchor myself to the present moment, to the room full of wolves who couldn't know what had just happened.
No one said anything.
But I could feel their curiosity, their awareness that something significant had occurred. Naomi's eyes were sharp with questions she was too polite to ask in company. Sara's expression had gone carefully neutral. Even Princess looked uncertain, as if she'd sensed the undercurrents but couldn't identify their source.
Sara returned to supply chains. Naomi picked up where she left off. But my mind wasn't on maps anymore.
It was on the way Maya's eyes had narrowed.
Not in fear. In recognition.
She knew.
Maybe not all of it. Yet, she felt the crack in me. And something inside her, some feral old piece, was reaching through it.
She was going to ask questions. Soon. And I wasn't sure I had answers she could live with.
I stood before anyone could stop me. "I need air."
No one argued.
They understood, even if they didn't understand. Sometimes Alphas needed space to think, to process, to remember how to breathe.
I left the office, letting the door click shut behind me. The day had deepened toward afternoon already, the golden light of morning giving way to something softer and more forgiving. Light rain threaded through the trees at the edge of the woods, dripping from their branches with the gentle push of spring asserting itself over winter's grip. Somewhere far off, a wolf barked twice and went quiet.
I stepped off the porch and walked toward the fence line, stopping just before the outer watch posts began.
The compound spread out before me, a testament to everything I'd built and everything I was afraid of losing. Wolves moved between buildings with the easy confidence of safety, going about their daily routines without the constant fear that had once defined their lives. This was what I'd worked for, what I'd sacrificed for. A place where wolves could simply exist without terror.
In the distance, I saw Maya again. She was walking toward the cabins. Alone. Her head low, arms wrapped around herself like armor.
She moved like someone carrying a weight too heavy for her shoulders, but refusing to put it down. Like someone who'd learned that showing weakness was dangerous, even here in the safest place she'd ever known.
She has your eyes, Alexis.
If they had been his eyes, I could have hated her.
Damn you both.
CHAPTER 3
I didn't sleep.
Not well, anyway.
I closed my eyes, but my thoughts kept tracing her silhouette in the doorway, that too-knowing stare, the tilt of her head that didn't belong to a child but someone older. Someone familiar. Someone who carried herself with the quiet confidence of wolves who'd learned that survival meant watching everything and trusting nothing.
But it wasn't just Maya keeping me awake. It was the way Alexis had looked at her. Protective, fierce, and maternal in a way that carved something hollow in my chest. And underneath it all, the growing certainty that the fragile peace I'd built was about to shatter.
I growled at the shadows dancing on the ceiling, waiting for the sun to chase them away.
The house settled around me with the familiar creaks and sighs of old wood adjusting to the changing temperature. Somewhere down the hall, I could hear the quiet murmur of voices, night shift guards checking in. The scent of too many bodies in too small a space lingered in the air, foreign and unsettling after years of knowing exactly who belonged here.
When the sky finally showed a hint of life, I got up. The house was still asleep. I moved through it silently, muscle memory guiding me around the spots that creaked loudest, past the rooms where new wolves slept fitfully. I didn't bother changing out of yesterday's clothes. Let them smell my exhaustion, my restlessness, my uncertainty.
Outside, the dew was evaporating off the eastern fence, rising in thin wisps that caught the early light like spider silk. I walked the perimeter, not because I didn't trust our new patrols, but because I needed to feel the land under my feet. The earth was soft from yesterday's rain, giving slightly under my boots and releasing the rich scent of loam and growing things. Spring was winning its war against winter, slowly but inevitably.
The trees were quieter this morning. Not peaceful. Just…watching.
It was the kind of silence that made the hair on my arms rise, the absence of sound that preceded either dawn or danger. Even the insects and early morning birds seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for something to shift.
Near the cabins, I caught the scent trails of new wolves. Haven wolves, mostly. Still carrying the tang of stale metal and medicated soap. They'd clustered tight last night, three to a bunk where one would've been enough. There were plenty of beds. I'd always prided myself on knowing that we would never turn away a wolf in need, that there would always be spare space, spare food, spare compassion for those who'd lost everything.
But they huddled not out of fear, not exactly, but out of habit born from fear. Years of captivity had taught them that safety was temporary, that space was a luxury they couldn't afford. It would take time to unlearn that lesson. Time we might not have.
I paused at the edge of the cabin cluster, breathing in the complex layers of scent that told the story of last night. Nervous sweat and nightmare fears, yes, but also something else… the first tentative threads of pack bonding. They were starting to trust each other, even if they couldn't trust the world yet.
The shift came easier this time, bones flowing like water, muscles stretching and reforming with the practiced efficiency of decades. My human thoughts simplified, sharpened, focused on immediate sensory input rather than complex emotional tangles.
I snorted, tail swishing in slow, agitated sweeps. The wolf understood territory, understood pack hierarchy, understood the simple mathematics of threat and response. It was the human side that complicated everything, with guilt and longing and the weight of choices that couldn't be unmade.
I wouldn't force them to leave, and Alexis knew that when she brought them here. My paws turned on the slick grass, needing to stop that train of thought. It was too complex for the wolf, who would just get a headache worrying about why our human side wanted to rip our mate's head off.
Our ex-mate , I corrected, the wolf agitatedly looping off in another direction. She had made her choice and I had made mine.
Another scent trail caught me off guard, though not entirely unfamiliar, but strong and recent. Someone had walked the northern tree line alone, and recently enough that their scent was still sharp in the morning air.
I traced it to a patch of flattened pine needles and damp earth, crouching to examine the marks more closely.
Wolf, female, steady gait. Not scared. Curious, with an undertone of restless energy that spoke of someone who couldn't stay still when their mind was racing.
Maya.
The recognition hit me like a physical blow, driving the air from my lungs. I could smell Alexis on the trail too, faint but unmistakable, they'd walked together for part of the path before Maya had branched off on her own.
I straightened, pushing the scent from my thoughts before it could drag me deeper into dangerous territory. I didn't want to think about her shifted form, how closely she would resemble her mother's beautiful blonde fur. Or maybe it would be more like her hair, darker fur to match her father.
Duty over all else was her mother's mantra. The need to contribute, to be useful, to earn her place through service rather than simply existing. I'd loved that about her, the way she threw herself into every task with complete dedication. And I'd hated it too, the way she couldn't rest, couldn't simply be without constantly proving her worth.
I kept walking, letting the rhythm of movement calm the restless energy that threatened to pull me apart at the seams.
At the ridge, a mechanical whirr broke the quiet.
Naomi stood in the clearing with a controller, focused. A drone was lifting off directly in front of her, its rotors creating small whirlwinds in the grass. Her hair was pulled back tight, and there were lines around her eyes that spoke of too little sleep and too much caffeine. She looked like she hadn't slept either.
Of course she was already working. Naomi dealt with stress by staying busy, by finding problems to solve and systems to optimize. It was one of the things that made her an excellent second-in-command and a terrible patient when she was injured.
I approached, shifting quickly and pulling a sweater from the pouch across my chest. Shifter-proof pouches were easily one of the best inventions for wolf-kind.
She glanced up, startled enough that she nearly crashed the drone into the nearest tree.
"This thing flies about as straight as Casey walks after a night out."
"That's not very fair to the drone," I muttered, joining her on the small platform she'd built for better visibility.
We stood side by side, eyes on the sky, as the drone adjusted its flight pattern. The device hovered, compensated for a gust of wind, then zipped higher into the brightening sky.
The morning was quiet except for the drone's mechanical hum and the distant sound of wolves beginning their daily routines. Smoke rose from the kitchen chimney was the big house. Olivia would be starting breakfast soon, feeding the small army that had taken up residence in my territory.
"She didn't sleep either," Naomi said, as if we'd already been talking rather than standing in comfortable silence.
"Who? Casey?"
Naomi kept her eyes on the drone, but I could see the concern in the set of her shoulders. "Maya. She was on the porch around three this morning. Daisy offered her tea when she went to check on our newest patients. Said Maya didn't even look at her, just kept staring into the darkness like she was searching for a pawn in the dark.”
I frowned, unease prickling down my spine. Three in the morning was the hour of wolves who couldn't outrun their demons, who found sleep more dangerous than exhaustion.
"She shouldn't be out while it's still dark."
"She's not on your leash, Lydia."
That landed harder than it should've.
Maya wasn't mine to command or protect, wasn't part of my pack in any official sense. She was here as Alexis's daughter, under Ghost Pack protection, owing me nothing and expecting the same in return.
"She shouldn't be shifting here," I said flatly, grasping for some semblance of authority. "Not without the Alpha's permission."
Naomi turned toward me, gaze level in a way that let me know she had opinions about my territorial posturing. "Why not? Because you don't want to see it? Because it makes all this—" she gestured broadly at the compound, "—feel too real?"
I stared at her, caught off guard by the directness of the challenge.
Naomi held the look, unflinching in the way that only old friends could manage, then looked away, tapping the screen with more force than necessary. "I told Daisy not to push. She listens better than you do."
I let the jab slide, mostly because I deserved it.
"What about the others? Did we hear anything overnight?" Princess had filled us in about Jess's mission to stay behind—a plan I thought was stupid and suicidal, but I understood the logic. If she'd returned here instead, I might have exiled her myself. Too many traitors in my den recently, and I couldn't afford to harbor wolves who might sell us out when the pressure mounted.
Naomi hesitated, and I could see her choosing her words carefully, then shook her head. "No movement. Not yet. But you can feel it, can't you?"
I said nothing.
She didn't need me to answer.
The drone disappeared over the horizon, becoming a speck against the pale sky before vanishing entirely.
"Something's coming," she said, voice quiet but certain. "Too many pieces shifting at once. Jess still hasn't checked in. Jewel's signal yesterday was glitchy. We're overdue for a break… or a hit."
There was a rhythm to these things, a pattern I'd learned to recognize over the years. Periods of relative calm followed by bursts of violence. The signs were all there if you looked. Communications going dark, allies moving positions, and the subtle shift in atmosphere that preceded conflict.
I crossed my arms. "If it's a hit, we'll be ready."
Naomi nodded, but her expression remained troubled. "Let's hope it's not both. I don't want to get hit and then break apart."
The wind picked up, cool and sharp, cutting through my sweater and carrying the scent of distant rain. Spring weather was unpredictable at best in the Midwest, capable of shifting from warm sunshine to freezing rain in the span of an hour.
"She reminds me of you," Naomi said suddenly, her tone carefully neutral.
I didn't have to ask who.
The observation hung between us like a challenge, demanding acknowledgment of truths I wasn't ready to face.
"She watches people like you do. Doesn't speak until she's certain. And when she does, it's not for anyone's comfort, it's because something needs to be said, consequences be damned."
I flinched, the accuracy of the assessment cutting deeper than I'd expected.
"She's nothing like me.”
"No," Naomi agreed, but there was something almost gentle in her voice. "But she might've been. If someone had let her grow up knowing where she came from, who she belonged to, what she was capable of becoming."
I couldn't answer. Not because I didn't want to, because the words were there, crowding my throat like broken glass, but because speaking them would make everything real in a way I wasn't prepared to handle.
We didn't speak again, the weight of unfinished conversations settling between us like fog.
