Chapter One – Xavier

Chapter One – Xavier

Time.

An unforgiving beast that gives and takes without thought or regard for the lives it forever changes.

3:04 a.m.

Just a few more minutes, and I’ll force myself out of bed.

Not that I ever really sleep anymore. I haven’t since my daughter was born.

Sleep became my second greatest enemy.

Time will always hold the number one spot.

So, on the nights I’m not out on patrol or running with the pack, I retreat to the bedroom beside my office and pretend to sleep.

I lie in the darkness until my eyes adjust to the shadows. Moonlight spills through

the half-open window, painting everything in flickering silver. My steel-gray eyes burn brighter, almost metallic beneath the lunar glow, while my Lycan prowls the edges of my mind—restless, alert, forever haunted by memories that refuse to stay buried.

3:12 a.m.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, planting my feet against the cold hardwood floor. The ache beneath my ribs has settled in deep tonight. Air and moonlight won’t quiet it. I need heat. I need something—anything—to remind me I’m still alive, even if it’s only for a few fleeting minutes.

Steam curls around me as I step beneath the shower, wrapping itself around my body like a living thing. Water crashes over my broad shoulders, tracing familiar paths down muscles forged through years of relentless training… and even more relentless loss.

I brace one hand against the cold tile and lower my head, letting the pounding water drown out everything except the war inside me.

My other hand wrapped around my heavy length, thick and unyielding in my palm despite the dull ache beneath my ribs telling me this was pointless. I hissed between my teeth, a low, broken sound. My Lycan snarled at the intrusion — disgusted, restless, clawing at the edges of my control.

Leave it, the beast growled in the back of my mind. She’s gone. This is nothing.

But I couldn’t leave it. I needed to feel something. Needed to drown out the ghost of my mate’s laughter echoing in the cracks of my mind.

The Lycan inside rumbled a cruel, bitter laugh, feeding me shards of grief instead of pleasure.

Think of her, I ordered myself through clenched teeth. Anna.

My hips jerked once, uselessly, as images flickered, Anna beneath me, soft sounds spilling from her lips, her hair tangled in my fingers, her taste on my tongue. I squeezed harder, dragged my grip rougher over the thick head, shuddering when the first pulse of heat coiled at the base of my spine.

Yes.

A snarl tore from my throat — half agony, half relief — as my fangs scraped over my own bottom lip, breaking skin. I thrust into my own fist, faster now, chasing that old familiar edge I hadn’t let myself fall over in far too long.

Anna’s voice in my ear. Her scent in my lungs. The way she’d gasped my name when I sunk my fangs into her neck, claiming her, branding her, loving her in the only way a beast like me knew how.

It snapped me.

With a ragged growl, I jerked once, twice, then heat exploded through me, ropes of release striping the shower wall and washing down the drain. I groaned, forehead thunking hard against the slick tile, chest heaving as the last tremors shuddered through my massive frame.

Silence.

Emptiness.

No comfort in the echoes of her name on my tongue. No peace in the burn beneath my ribs that no orgasm could ever touch.

My lycan snarled once more, savage and unsatisfied.

She’s gone.

I stayed there, water cascading over me like punishment, eyes closed, heart still broken, alone in the steam, with nothing left to offer but the grief that never died.

After the water coursed down my back a bit. I shifted, the spray hitting my abdomen rock solid, scarred, corded with years of carrying heavier weight than any crown. My manhood hung between my thighs, thick and impressively endowed even now, but limp and indifferent.

It hadn’t voluntarily stirred since Anna’s heartbeat faltered beneath my palms. Since the midwife’s cries turned into a funeral hymn in my head. What once roused at a simple glance from my beloved Luna now felt like an arm, a leg just another piece of me left hollow by loss.

Each attempt ended with the same guilt suffocating any flicker of need, my wolf snarling in protest as if touching himself was a betrayal of the bond buried in the grave with Anna and our daughter.

I scrubbed my skin raw, ignoring the phantom press of memories I couldn’t wash away. When the steam finally dulled the edge of the beast clawing at me, I shut off the shower and stood dripping heavily, solid, alone.

I toweled off briskly, no hesitation in the practical ritual of dressing: black denim jeans; a black long-sleeve thermal that strained against my biceps and chest; black boots that whispered both king and ranch hand in a single step.

Two photographs caught me before the door:Anna barefoot and radiant, round with the life she never cradled in her arms. Cheyenne’s sonogram, just a grainy promise the Moon Goddess never let me keep.

I didn’t speak to them. I didn’t dare.

Outside, the corridors of the packhouse held their breath as I stalked through them. I didn’t stop until the cold air hit me, slicing clean through steam and sorrow alike, carrying me toward my truck, a 2025 matte black Toyota Tundra which would take me to the barn and the only heartbeat that kept me tethered…Ladygirl.

I don’t remember putting the truck in gear. I only know the weight crushing my chest eases the moment the packhouse disappears in my rearview mirror.

Midnight Mountain still sleeps behind its fortress of ancient pines and iron gates, but the king inside those walls hasn’t truly rested in nearly a decade.

The road to the ranch house winds low and narrow through the morning mist. One hand drapes lazily over the steering wheel while the other taps against the leather console. The radio crackles between static and an old soul station drifting in from Asheville.

Then a familiar guitar slips through the static.

Sweet. Aching.

As if memory itself has found its voice.

Al Green.

How Can You Mend a Broken Heart.

Of course.

The universe has always had a sick sense of humor.

My eyes stay on the dark tree line ahead, but my mind drifts somewhere else entirely. A different road. A different truck. Anna laughing beside me in the passenger seat of my first black pickup.

She’d insisted we go into the human village that day. No packhouse dining room. No expensive restaurant where everyone whispered behind our backs.

She wanted the park.

“If I’m gonna fall in love with the king, Xavier St. Clair, I need to meet the man first. And I can’t ask you every silly question I have at some overpriced dinner. Or in a movie theater. I hate awkward silences.”

I’d fought her on it at first.

Back then, I thought flowers, candlelight, and the perfect bottle of wine were what women wanted.

Anna wanted sunshine.

She wanted a weathered bench beneath the old oak overlooking the pond.

I bought us chocolate ice cream cones from an old woman pushing a little cart, and the woman winked at Anna like they’d shared a secret for years.

Anna spent the entire afternoon asking questions.

About my first fight.

My first shift.

What scared me most when I was a boy.

How I liked my eggs in the morning.

There wasn’t a shred of fear in those beautiful eyes.

Only curiosity.

Bold.

Gentle.

Completely fearless.

That was the afternoon I fell in love with her.

Long before the pack crowned her Luna.

Long before my parents accepted her as my chosen mate.

I loved her then…

Sticky fingers covered in melted chocolate…

Laughing so hard she nearly cried after some thieving bird swooped down and stole half her cone.

The song wraps around me now like a ghost’s embrace, slow and tender, filling the cab as I turn onto the final gravel drive leading to the ranch house.

“How can you mend… this broken heart…”

Cruel question.

One even the Moon Goddess has never answered.

I kill the engine and let the final notes fade into the quiet dawn.

My pulse steadies.

My wolf settles beneath my ribs…

For now.

I’ve got a barn to check.

A mare to reassure.

And memories I’d rather leave buried.

The familiar scent reaches me before I even step inside.

Hay.

Leather.

The warm, comforting musk of my favorite girl.

Ladygirl lifts her dark head over the stall door, ears twitching the instant she recognizes me.

I let out a slow breath, feeling another piece of the tension bleed from my shoulders.

Crossing the stall, I rest my forehead against hers while my hand strokes the graceful curve of her neck.

“You’re all right, sweetheart,” I murmur. My voice is low enough to calm nervous wolves. “I’m leaving for a little while, but you’re not alone.”

A quiet cough behind me pulls me back.

Dr. Greene stands near the gate with both hands tucked into the pockets of his worn brown coat.

“She’s doing just fine, Alpha,” he says, nodding toward Ladygirl’s swollen belly. “Still a few weeks yet. I’ll stay here at the ranch until you’re back. Just in case.”

I nod without taking my eyes off her.

“Good.”

My fingers scratch gently beneath her mane.

“Keep her safe.”

I stay beside Ladygirl until the slow rhythm of her breathing finally quiets the restless growl beneath my skin.

By the time I step outside, dawn has painted the eastern sky in bruised shades of purple and silver. Clouds drift above Midnight Mountain like restless spirits.

The black SUV waits near the main gate.

Rock leans against the driver’s side, one boot propped on the bumper while scrolling through something on his tablet.

Always planning.

Always three moves ahead.

The pack’s fortress wrapped in leather and muscle.

Quest, meanwhile, is practically glued to his phone.

His entire six-foot-five frame somehow manages to look almost civilized in dark jeans and a gray Henley, but the ridiculous grin on his face gives him away.

Newly mated males all wear that same look.

Kristen has softened half his rough edges in one moon cycle.

I crunch across the gravel.

Rock immediately straightens. His eyes catch the lingering glow in mine before he respectfully looks away.

“Everything ready?” I ask.

He nods.

“Jet’s fueled. Flight plan’s cleared. Once we land, I’ll coordinate pickup for your parents. Nothing gets near that airstrip without my approval.”

“Good.”

I toss my duffel into the back and slam the hatch shut.

Quest doesn’t even notice.

He’s whispering something into his phone that earns an exaggerated eye roll from Rock.

“Yeah, baby, I promise. Soon as I land, I’ll mindlink you… Mm-hmm… Love you more—”

He catches me watching and quickly covers the phone.

“Hey, boss.”

One eyebrow rises.

“Tell Kristen you’ll survive a few days without her.”

Quest snorts.

“Don’t tempt her. She’ll show up at the airstrip.”

Then he’s right back into the phone.

“Okay, sunshine… Really gotta go. Love you. Bye… Bye… Kristen… Kristen… Okay. Bye.”

The call finally ends with an exhausted sigh.

Rock chuckles under his breath.

“Sorry, Alpha. Newlyweds.”

I can’t help the small smile that slips free.

It doesn’t reach my eyes.

“One of us should be happy.”

I climb into the back seat, letting Rock take the wheel while Quest settles into the passenger seat, already firing off another message to the charter pilot waiting in Tallahassee.

“You trust the charter with my parents?” I ask, watching the blur of pine trees race past my window.

Rock glances at me in the mirror.

“I personally vetted the pilot and crew. I’ll fly down, pick them up myself, and have them back before the Full Moon Festival begins. Dr. Greene will keep me updated on Ladygirl.”

His voice turns quieter.

“I promise, X… nothing’s falling through the cracks.”

Quest nods without looking up.

“The whole pack’s watching. Nothing happens to them.”

A beat passes.

“Or you.”

The SUV rolls through Midnight Mountain’s gates, leaving my hidden kingdom behind as the human world stretches out before us.

For the first time all morning…

I exhale.

My people are safe.

Ladygirl is safe.

And my past…