There are moments that divide a life.
The Before and the After.
I thought those moments only happened in textbooks—wars, disasters, medical breakthroughs. But I stood in the middle of a clearing beneath the full moon, barefoot in damp grass, staring at a creature born of myth and blood and secrets—and I realized I'd crossed that line.
This was my After.
And it was staring at me with Lucien's eyes.
My chest rose and fell in ragged breaths. My brain screamed at me to run, to scream, to do something—but my body stayed still.
Frozen.
No, not frozen. Rooted.
Because I wasn't afraid.
Not of him.
Even as the last echoes of bones shifting and muscle reforming faded, even as I watched the wolf's massive chest rise and fall, I felt no true danger. Every instinct in me—the human instincts I'd trusted for thirty-three years—told me he wouldn't hurt me.
Not Lucien.
Still, I couldn't breathe properly.
The wolf stepped forward.
I flinched.
He stopped, head tilting, ears twitching as though sensing every beat of my heart. And then he did the strangest thing—he bowed his head, lowering himself until his belly touched the earth.
A sign of submission.
My fingers trembled. "Lucien…?"
The wolf let out a soft whine, eyes never leaving mine.
I should've run.
Instead, I stepped forward.
And when I pressed my hand against the fur of his shoulder—coarse, warm, real—a pulse shivered down my spine.
Like something inside me had just clicked into place.
His eyes closed. His body relaxed.
And for a moment, I forgot the impossible.
I forgot that this shouldn't exist.
I only felt him.
Lucien.
⸻
He shifted back minutes later.
I turned away out of instinct—his body too naked, too human—but his voice was soft.
"You can look."
I did.
He had slipped into jeans he must have stashed behind a tree, still barefoot and shirtless, skin gleaming with sweat, muscles tense like the transformation had wrung every ounce of energy from him.
"I didn't want it to happen this way," he said quietly. "I never wanted you to see the shift. Not like this."
I swallowed, my throat sandpaper. "Then how did you want me to see it?"
He looked at me, and there was sorrow in his eyes. "Never."
I stared at him. "Why?"
Lucien stepped closer, careful, like I was a bird that might bolt.
"Because you're everything that's good and whole and untouched by this world, Aria. Because I've killed. I've hunted. I've done things no man should do. And you… you are light. You still believe in logic. In order. In science. What I am… would tear that apart."
I felt like I was breathing underwater.
"You're a werewolf," I said, and the word felt strange on my tongue. "And I'm… what, Lucien? What am I to you?"
He hesitated.
And then: "You're my mate."
The ground shifted under my feet.
"That's not just a metaphor, is it?"
He shook his head. "No."
I rubbed my temples. "Explain. Please."
Lucien sat on a flat stone, elbows resting on his knees. His voice was low, gravel and velvet.
"Werewolves aren't like the stories. We're not mindless beasts. We're part of an old lineage—ancient blood tied to the moon. Strong, fast, immortal to time, but not invulnerable."
I crossed my arms tightly. "You keep saying 'we.' How many are there?"
"In this region? A few dozen. Globally? Thousands. Packs scattered across continents. Some live hidden, others infiltrate human society. I've done both."
"And the mating thing?"
He looked up at me—and in his eyes was something raw. Something terrifying.
"When a wolf finds their true mate, it's… fate. Cosmic, maybe even divine. We're pulled to them by something we don't control. It's rare. Most never find theirs. But when it happens… it's forever."
"Forever?" I repeated. "Like soulmate forever?"
He nodded.
A chill raced down my arms.
"But I'm human," I said. "I'm not part of this world. You're saying I'm your mate, and I didn't even know."
"You weren't supposed to," he said. "Not until you felt it too. The pull."
I thought back to that day at the house. The handshake. The way his touch had burned through me.
God.
I'd felt it.
Even then.
"So what now?" I asked, suddenly exhausted. "What happens to me?"
"That's your choice, Aria."
"Is it?" I snapped. "Because it doesn't feel like it. I'm standing here in the woods with a werewolf who just told me I'm bonded to him for life, and I don't remember signing that contract."
Lucien's face shadowed. "I didn't want to claim you without your consent. I still don't. That's why I kept it from you. I wanted you to be free."
"Free to choose someone else?" I challenged.
"If that's what you want."
The idea hurt more than it should have.
I sat down on a tree stump, head in my hands. "This is insane."
"I know."
"You're insane."
"Possibly."
I laughed, despite everything.
It came out cracked and tired and stunned, but it was laughter.
Lucien moved closer, crouched beside me.
"I'll give you space," he said. "I'll answer any question you have. But I won't lie to you again."
I looked at him—really looked.
The man. The monster. The one who had haunted my childhood and returned with secrets written in scars.
I should've been afraid.
Instead, I reached out and took his hand.
It felt like coming home.
⸻
The next day, I didn't go into campus. I didn't even get out of bed until noon.
I lay there staring at the ceiling, running the events of the night over and over again in my mind.
Lucien. Wolf. Mate.
None of it should make sense.
And yet… my body wasn't confused.
My soul wasn't either.
It felt like something ancient inside me had finally been named.
But that didn't mean I trusted it. Not yet.
So I opened my laptop and did what I did best—I researched.
And what I found cracked the world open even more.
Mentions of humans marked by wolves. Of scholars drawn into werewolf packs and never returning to the world they came from. Of women who touched the bond and awakened abilities of their own—empathy, telepathy, even transformation.
But those were just stories.
Weren't they?
Because if they weren't…
Then I wasn't just Lucien's mate.
I might be changing too.