A Wolf's True Mate

Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

The world spins around me, a carousel of lights and festive sounds, but it's all background noise compared to the thundering beat of my heart. Luca's lips are still warm on mine, even as we step away from each other, our shared breath misting in the crisp evening air.

"Come on," he says, his voice steady but his blue eyes betraying the same storm that's raging inside me. "Let's not miss the fun."

I nod, unable to form words just yet. Together, we drift back toward the throngs of shifters celebrating under the string lights of the festival. The Golden Paw pack has always embraced celebrations with a fervor, and tonight is no exception. The streets of our old European town buzz with energy, laughter echoing off the stone walls, scents of spiced meats and sweet pastries mingling in the air.

As we weave through clusters of chatting pack members, I catch snippets of their conversations—new alliances, recent hunts, playful banter—but it all seems distant, like I'm listening through water. My mind replays the kiss, the gentle pressure of Luca's lips, so hesitant and yet so sure.

"Skye?" His voice pulls me back, and I realize we've stopped by a booth offering candied apples, their glossy red coats gleaming under the market lights.

"Sorry, I was just..." I trail off, unsure how to express the whirlwind inside without revealing too much. As an Omega and a secret telepath, I'm used to keeping my thoughts locked down tight. But right now, with Luca looking at me with those expectant dimples in his cheeks, it feels impossible.

"Thinking about the kiss?" he asks, his voice low, almost hesitant.

A blush creeps up my freckled cheeks, and I nod. "Yeah. I mean, I didn't see that coming." The honesty of my words hangs between us, fragile and bold at the same time.

Luca's smile grows wider, and he reaches out to tuck a strand of my blonde hair behind my ear. "I've wanted to do that for a long time, Skye. I just never had the courage until tonight. There's something about this festival, the way it makes everything seem possible..."

"Like magic in the air," I murmur, meeting his gaze. It's true—the festival always had a way of stripping away the usual hierarchies, the unspoken rules of our pack. Here, under the canopy of stars and twinkling lights, we are simply two people who share a connection.

"Exactly," he agrees. "And I realized I couldn't waste another moment. Not when it comes to telling you how I feel."

My heart flutters, a caged bird eager to take flight. "Luca, I've always..." The words catch in my throat, but his knowing look tells me he understands. He's always been perceptive like that.

"Hey, let's get one of those apples and find a spot by the fire," he suggests, gently changing the subject, giving me a moment to collect myself.

"Sounds perfect," I reply, grateful for his understanding. We join the queue, and as we inch closer to the booth, I allow myself to lean slightly into him—a small gesture, but it's enough for now. Our fingers brush as we pass the coins to the vendor, our shared warmth more intoxicating than any festival brew.

With candied apples in hand, we make our way towards the bonfire, its flames reaching high into the night sky. The heat from the fire battles the chill in the air, and I find myself relishing the contrast. Beside me, Luca's presence is a steady beacon, grounding me amidst the sensory overload of the festival.

"Here's to unexpected moments," he says, holding up his apple in a mock toast.

"And to having the courage to follow them," I add, clinking my apple against his before taking a bite. The sweetness explodes on my tongue, a fitting metaphor for the evening.

"Exactly," he whispers, and as we settle in to enjoy the rest of the evening, I know that no matter what happens next, this moment—with Luca by my side—is one I'll cherish forever.

The evening unfolds like a tapestry of light and shadow, laughter mingling with the crackle of the fire. Luca and I find a spot on a log bench, close enough to feel the bonfire's embrace but far from the crush of bodies that sway to the music. It's a bubble of tranquility, and we sit shoulder to shoulder, watching the flickering dance of the flames.

"Look at them," Luca murmurs, nodding toward a group of younger pack members chasing each other around, their joy uninhibited. "Remember when that was us?"

I smile, the memory warm in my chest. "We were unstoppable, weren't we?" My gaze drifts across the festival grounds, taking in the familiar faces, the sense of community that has always been both a comfort and a cage.

"Hey, who's that?" Luca's voice pulls me back, his tone laced with curiosity.

I follow his gaze to the outskirts of the gathering where a hunched figure approaches, her presence slicing through my reverie like a chill wind. She's an old woman, someone I don't recognize, which is odd given how well I know everyone in Golden Paw. Her clothes are tattered, layers upon layers draped over her frail body, and she moves with a slow determination that commands attention.

"Maybe she's lost?" I suggest, though I'm not convinced myself.

"Let's get her something to eat," Luca says, already rising, and I follow suit. Together we approach her, and there's a collective pause in our surroundings, as if everyone senses the ripple of something unfamiliar.

"Ma'am," Luca begins gently, "are you hungry? We can get you—"

"Food would be most welcome, young ones," she croaks, accepting our offer of a plate piled with roasted meats and vegetables, her fingers surprisingly steady as she takes it from us.

"Please, join us by the fire," I say, gesturing toward the warmth.

"Thank you, child." Her eyes, a clear gray, meet mine, and there's a depth to them that sends a shiver down my spine. A shifter's eyes, I realize, ancient and knowing.

She settles near the fire, taking small, deliberate bites, and the crowd resumes its festivities, albeit with stolen glances toward the stranger. Then, without warning, she stands, the plate forgotten on the ground beside her.

"Pack of the Golden Paw," her voice rings out, stronger now, commanding the silence that falls like a blanket over us all. "I am but a messenger, bearing a prophecy for your ears alone."

Luca's hand finds mine, his grip tight, and I can feel the beat of his heart racing against my palm. The old woman's eyes scan the crowd, settling on no one and yet seeming to see everything.

"Change comes on swift wings," she intones, her voice carrying on the wind. "A choice will be made, a power revealed, and the pack will face a trial like never before. Remember, it is together that you will rise or fall."

Her words hang suspended in the air, heavy with meaning and menace. Whispers break out like a sudden storm, members of the pack turning to each other with questions in their eyes. What does it mean? Who is she talking about?

"Is she speaking of war?" someone murmurs nearby.

"Or something worse?" another responds, their voice tinged with fear.

"Who must make the choice?" The question burns within me, but I keep it silent, my telepathic nature a secret I'm not ready to expose.

"Are we in danger?" Luca whispers, his voice meant only for me.

"I don't know," I admit, the truth of my ignorance bitter on my tongue. But as I look around at the faces of my pack—my family—I know that whatever comes, whatever the prophecy foretells, we will face it together. With Luca's hand in mine, I feel a spark of determination k****e within me.

"Whatever it is," I whisper back, "we'll be ready."