If I could bottle a feeling, I would have bottled that night.
After the ceremony, after the vows and the cheers and the feast that blurred into a haze of faces and scents and music, Darius brought me to the small cottage prepared for us at the edge of the Stormclaw territory.
It was simple—wooden walls, stone fireplace, heavy wool curtains—but it felt like it was ours.
New.
Unspoiled.
When the door clicked shut behind us, it was like stepping into a new life.
Darius set down the cloak he had draped around my shoulders and turned to face me.
The firelight danced across his face, highlighting the strong line of his jaw, the warmth in his dark eyes.
For a moment, we just stared at each other.
No words.
No pressure.
Just breathing the same air.
"You're quiet," he said softly, stepping closer.
"I'm..." I hesitated, unsure how to put it into words. "Taking it all in."
He smiled, that slow, steady smile that made my heart trip over itself.
"You can take forever," he said. "I'm not going anywhere."
The simple honesty in his voice undid me.
I reached for him without thinking, needing the solid weight of him, the safety he somehow gave me with just his presence.
He caught me gently, arms wrapping around me like a shield against the world.
For a while, we just stood there, the fire crackling, his hand stroking slow, soothing circles over my back.
"I want to show you something," he murmured into my hair.
I pulled back a little to look up at him.
He took my hand and led me to the other side of the cottage.
There, tucked away behind the kitchen, was a small room.
Inside were shelves packed with books, a cozy armchair by the window, and a little table with a teapot and two cups already set out.
I blinked in surprise.
"You made this?" I said.
He chuckled.
"Well, the room was already here. I just... thought you might like a space that's just yours. A place to breathe."
My throat tightened painfully.
No one had ever done something like this for me before.
Not because they had to.
Not because it was expected.
Just because they saw me.
"I love it," I whispered.
And I did.
More than I could say.
He brushed a strand of hair away from my face.
"I love you," he said, voice low and rough. "I know it's fast. I know there's so much you're still holding back. But I'm here. All of me. No matter how long it takes."
Tears burned my eyes, hot and unexpected.
I leaned into him, pressing my forehead to his chest, breathing in the clean, wild scent of him.
"I'm trying," I said. "I swear, I'm trying."
"I know," he said, kissing the top of my head. "That's enough."
And it was.
At least for that night.
We stayed up late, curled together in the armchair, sipping tea and talking in low voices about everything and nothing.
About stupid childhood memories.
About favorite colors.
About dreams we barely dared to name.
It was easy.
Effortless.
Sweetness, wrapped around me like a second skin.
For the first time in a long time, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, I could be happy here.
That maybe the prophecy, the warning, the ticking clock—maybe it could all wait.
Maybe it wouldn't catch me.
Maybe I could outrun it.
But the shadow never left.
It clung to me, even in the brightest moments.
When Darius laughed at something silly I said.
When he kissed me slow and reverent by the fire.
When he whispered my name like it was a prayer.
The shadow was there.
Whispering.
Counting down.
Some nights, when Darius slept beside me, I stared up at the ceiling and fought the panic clawing at my throat.
I could feel it.
The shift inside me.
The way my wolf seemed... dimmer.
Quieter.
Less sure.
It terrified me.
What if the voice in the dream had been right?
What if I was already too late?
What if one morning, I woke up fully human—and Darius looked at me and saw a stranger?
What if he regretted choosing me?
I turned onto my side, watching him sleep.
His face was peaceful, open.
Vulnerable in a way he never was when awake.
I wanted to believe that he would love me no matter what.
That our bond would hold, even if my wolf slipped away.
But deep down, I knew how important the wolf was to our kind.
Without it, I wasn't truly one of them.
I wasn't truly his equal.
I was... something less.
Tears slipped silently down my cheeks.
I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling the slow, steady beat of my heart.
"I have to find her," I whispered into the dark. "Before it's too late."
The next morning, I tried to act normal.
Tried to laugh and kiss him and make breakfast without my hands shaking.
Tried to be the sweet, happy Luna he deserved.
But Darius wasn't a fool.
He caught my hand as I set a plate down in front of him.
"Luciana," he said quietly. "Talk to me."
I bit my lip hard, staring at our joined hands.
"I'm just... nervous," I said. "It's a lot. Being Luna. Being mated."
He studied me for a long moment, then squeezed my hand gently.
"You don't have to be perfect," he said. "You don't have to pretend."
The lump in my throat grew larger.
"I'm not pretending," I whispered. "I'm just... trying to be enough."
"You already are," he said fiercely. "You're more than enough."
I blinked rapidly, willing the tears back.
He tugged me down onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me tightly.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said into my hair. "You're stuck with me, little wolf."
I laughed shakily.
"Good," I said.
But inside, the fear curled tighter around my ribs.
Because I knew the truth:
No matter how much Darius loved me now, if I lost my wolf...
Everything could change.
And the only way to stop it was to find my mother.
Soon.
Before the sweetness of this new life was swallowed whole by the shadows waiting just beyond the horizon.