Page 38 of Moon Cursed

There were strangers in our forest. That girl, the one who died out there. She wasn’t familiar.

The others, the people I heard coming toward us, I didn’t recognize their voices or their scents.

I march out of the kitchen and check the backyard before I close the door and lock it tight.

Whoever’s out there clearly has no idea who they’re messing with.

Everett’s reputation among the shifter community here is unrivalled.

None of the other Alphas at the academy would dare cross him. They know this is his territory, and they can be here because he allows it. He dealt with the last Alpha who crossed him with swift, brutal efficiency. No one threatens his pack.

Our pack. My mate. His Omega.

I head back into the kitchen, and I find Oscar standing by the table, staring into space, a frown darkening his expression.

He turns his head to lock gazes with me. “Someone’s actually dead?”

I can hear the hint of panic in his tone, and a lump rises in my throat.

“I had a blackout, and someone actually died,” he states, when I don’t answer his question.

His bright eyes fill with terror. “This is exactly what I was worried about. This is why I’ve been so fucking afraid to shift forms. Holy fucking shit, it happened. It actually happened…”

“No,” I cut him off sharply. “It wasn’t you, Oscar.”

He doesn’t hear me. He’s spiralling.

He thinks the worst.

“Oh, Fenrir, God of Wolves, help me now,” he mutters, sinking to the cold kitchen tile with his head in his hands.

I sit down in front of him. “Oscar.”

He looks up at me, one bright eye staring through a messy pile of hair.

“Tell me I’m still asleep,” he begs me, his voice cracking. “This is a dream. It can’t be real.”

“You’re safe, and I’m going to figure this out,” I tell him, keeping my voice firm and commanding.

“Fuck me. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispers, tugging at his hair. “I knew something was going to happen. I fucking knew it.” He jumps to his feet suddenly, looking around. “Where’s that whiskey? I need a drink. That’ll make things better.”

I stand back up, my heart starting to break for him.

How am I supposed to keep it together when my mate is in so much pain?

I wrap my arms around him from behind. “Oscar, it’s okay. You didn’t do this.”

“Fuck, the bottle’s empty,” he moans, when his gaze goes to the sink.

His shoulders droop and I feel helpless.

He’s hurting and I don’t know how to help him.

“I can’t handle this,” he tells me, his voice whisper-faint.

“You can. You have me. You have a pack. We’ll handle it together.”

Even if right now, I’m not sure how.

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