Chapter 3
I hid in the shadows and overheard his words. Lying in bed, my breath came in ragged gasps, and I only realized my eyes had turned red when the tears started to fall.
I first met Harrison at the Howling Night Gala, the most important event in our werewolf community. I was performing a traditional moon dance on stage, my movements synchronized with the rhythm of the drums. Harrison was the one playing those drums, his eyes closed as he lost himself in the music. Our community elder introduced us after the show, and from the moment I caught his scent-spicy and warm, like a bonfire on a cold night-I was hooked. His focus on creating the perfect beat was almost hypnotic.
During rehearsal, I missed a step and nearly tumbled off the raised stone platform. In a flash, Harrison was there, throwing himself beneath me. He broke his right leg with a sickening snap, but I landed safely.
I was shaking all over, scared out of my wits. He just pulled me close, his grip firm. "What's there to be afraid of? This leg will heal in no time. But if you'd gotten hurt? Your dance career, your place in the Gala-gone! I couldn't let that happen."
Those words made me fall hard. I thought I'd found my forever. But now I know his passion for music doesn't mean he's got a faithful heart. He was into the dancer in me, sure. But Quinn, with her fresh, spring - like scent and energetic moves, has clearly caught his eye too.
I was half - conscious when Harrison padded into the room, carrying a bowl of warm moonroot porridge, the smell of honey and spices filling the air. "Babe, rise and shine. You can't starve yourself-it's bad for you and our little one."
I stayed still, not even blinking. To my surprise, he didn't get annoyed. Instead, he carefully helped me sit up, his touch gentle. "Even if you're angry at me and don't feel like eating, think about the pup. It's so small, it needs every bit of strength. Have some porridge, and then you can chew me out all you want."
His patience was eerie. I couldn't help but look at him. His hand held the bowl steady, and I caught a faint whiff of the nervous, almost desperate scent he always gave off when he wanted something. The last time he'd been this sweet, he'd tried to convince me to drop out of the Moonlit Dance Trials so Quinn could take my place.
"You're carrying a pup now," he'd said then. "There's no way you can compete. Might as well let Quinn go-she's been itching to join that trial for ages."
It clicked instantly. He wasn't being nice out of the blue. I grabbed the porridge from him, my expression cold, and stared him down. "Cut the crap. What do you want this time?"
Harrison let out a strained laugh. "Come on, babe, what's with the attitude? Can't I just make you breakfast without some hidden agenda?"
"Fine. If you've got nothing to ask, I'll take this as a rare moment of kindness."
His expression shifted, and I caught a sharp spike of anxiety in his scent, like he was terrified I'd see through his act. "It's about Quinn. She's been craving your shadowberry stew non - stop. I've already gathered all the ingredients. Just whip it up tomorrow, and I'll deliver it to her."
Even though I'd braced myself, his words still hit hard. Memories flooded back. Growing up, I'd been the family's do - everything helper.
Quinn was the golden child. While she got to attend the exclusive Howl - Crafting workshops and the coveted Moon - Song training, I had to plead for months just to get money for basic herbology lessons.
My dancing chance came from Quinn, too. She'd lost interest in the Moonlit Dance classes, but since the fees were paid, I'd jumped at the opportunity.
When she got jealous and wanted back in, our parents only let me stay to rile her up. I'd danced in the dusty training halls without proper wraps, while Quinn would "accidentally" stomp on my feet during group practice, then giggle with her friends. "Savannah, dancing without wraps? So low - class!"
When Harrison proposed, I'd thought I'd finally escaped that endless cycle. But now I realized-it was just another form of the same old suffering. This time, the one tearing me apart was my own mate.
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