Chapter 84: The Hunt

Chapter 84: The Hunt Kaya "Moonlight?" I snap out of my infernal thoughts at the sound of Magnus’s low, gravelly voice. My vision flashes white as all focus narrows to his bare torso—taut muscles gleaming with sweat, every inch of him sculpted like a sin I want to commit. Jealousy burns in my gut. Of what? The axe? The wind? The droplets of sweat that get to touch him? Why does he have to look so devastatingly sexy doing something as simple as chopping wood? How am I supposed to pretend like nothing happened between us when he insists on looking like that? Goddess, imagine running your tongue over those abs, Rana purrs. Heat flares across my cheeks... and lower. That infuriating, lust-struck wolf is going to be the death of me. "What are you doing out here?" Magnus asks again, dropping the axe with a heavy thud and stalking toward me. Each step is fluid, dangerous. The way his hips move should be illegal—it’s enough to scramble my thoughts. "You should be resting. It’ll help your healing." "Then why are you out here?" I snap, my eyes flicking to the healing gashes on his chest to make a point. They’re already fading, little more than claw-like scratches now—but I’m irritated enough to jab at him anyway. Maybe he can see straight through me. Magnus arches a brow, then runs a hand through his damp hair, slicking it back from his smooth, annoyingly perfect forehead. "Can’t sleep?" he asks, like he already knows the answer. "You too?" I retort, forcing my tone to stay flat, detached, like I’m not desperately aware of the tension simmering between us. He lifts that same brow at me again—unimpressed, amused, silently offering me a chance to drop the act. But when I say nothing, he exhales slowly, clearly choosing not to push. Instead, he just goes along with my attitude. "I suppose I should’ve talked to you about this sooner," Magnus says calmly, pulling a hair tie from his wrist and gathering his unruly curls at the nape of his neck. The simple motion holds my attention longer than it should. "Having your wolf with you at all times doesn’t come as naturally as people like to pretend—especially when her awakening happens this late in life." I bite my lip, a twinge of embarrassment prickling at his choice of words. He continues without pause. "It takes time for the body to accept the change. But it’s the mind that’s the hardest to convince. The most frustrating part is learning to balance your needs with hers—and making sure you meet both adequately." "What does that mean?" I ask, though I’m not entirely sure if I’m confused by the new information or simply distracted by the way his lips move as he speaks. "Among other things," Magnus says, voice low and thoughtful, "wolves need to hunt. Their need for physical exertion far exceeds ours. That’s why you’re so restless. Rana’s been suppressed for so long—now that she’s awake, she wants to taste freedom." I fall quiet, letting his explanation settle over me like a slow wave. All my life, I’ve watched wolves from the outside, and everything about their nature always seemed both fascinating and foreign. Shifting? Bizarre, but understandable. Hunting? Primitive, yet oddly graceful. Mating? I used to see it as necessary... but perhaps also a little brutal. I was just an observer then. But now? I don’t have the luxury of standing at the edge anymore. Now, I have to live it. I have to let it become a part of me. "So, what do you say?" Magnus’s voice slices cleanly through my thoughts. "Want to go on your first hunt?" It barely feels like the question is meant for me—Rana’s excitement flares immediately, her tail practically wagging with anticipation. If that’s what you wanted, you could’ve just told me. I grumble at her, irritated that her lack of communication left me in a sleep-deprived mess all night. Rana only purrs in response, and that’s when it clicks—this was her plan all along. The realization crashes over me, and I almost laugh at the absurdity of it. Sometimes, I wonder if the Moon Goddess sent her just to drive me crazy. "Are you sure you want to go on a hunt with me?" I ask Magnus with a playful scoff, but the sass in my voice sounds far less convincing than I intended. Magnus doesn’t respond with words. He simply exhales, then takes several long strides away from me. The next thing I hear is the unmistakable cracking of bones, the tearing whisper of transformation—and then he’s there, standing tall and wild in his wolf form. His massive, shadowy figure glistens under the moonlight, and no matter how many times I see him like this, he never fails to steal the breath from my lungs. What are you waiting for? Rana growls, practically vibrating with impatience. With a resigned sigh, I give in and allow the shift to take me. It still feels strange—choosing to surrender to it, guiding the change myself—but there’s something exhilarating about it, too. Something free. As soon as I land on all fours, Magnus’s voice filters into my head through the mind link. ’Stay close and don’t fall behind. Keep your senses sharp—I’ll show you the best route for hunting.’ I respond with a nod, and without another word, Magnus bolts into the forest, powerful and graceful, disappearing into the dark. And I follow—heart pounding, paws steady—ready to chase the wild. We race through the forest like two unleashed beasts, the muddy earth tearing beneath our pounding feet. Dry leaves and brittle branches snap under our weight, while towering trees and dense underbrush blur past in a whirlwind of motion. Magnus is incredibly fast—but to my surprise, my own legs are just as strong, carrying me alongside him with ease. I follow his scent instinctively, my movements synced to his without even trying. ’Look at you, Moonlight,’ his voice echoes through the mind link, laced with excitement and pride. ’You’re doing amazing.’ If wolves could blush, I’d be positively burning. Flustered, I leap toward him and nudge his side. Magnus responds in kind, playfully bumping me back and letting his tail sweep over my head like a teasing pat. Joy floods through me—raw, electrifying joy. I feel light and free, as though I’ve shed years of invisible weight. I can’t remember the last time I felt this alive... if I ever did at all. Who would’ve thought that simply running could feel so exhilarating? Or maybe it’s not about the running at all. Maybe it’s about who you’re running with. A warm, fluttering thought blossoms in my chest, heating my blood and sending my heart into another wild rhythm. ’Stop.’ Magnus’s command slices through the wind, and I obey instinctively, skidding to a halt. My ears perk up, and I narrow my eyes, scanning the shadows for danger. ’I smell a rabbit,’ he says, tilting his head toward the thicket on our right. ’There. Want me to show you how it’s done?’ ’Yeah,’ I reply quickly, relief quietly seeping into my nerves. Truthfully, I’d much rather watch than leap straight into killing something. My instincts are sharpened, yes—but the urge to sink my teeth into innocent prey isn’t exactly burning within me. At least not yet. ’Watch carefully,’ Magnus says, his voice a low murmur through the link, just before his powerful form begins to shrink. He lowers himself toward the forest floor, his movements smooth and precise, his frame melting into the shadows like a true predator. I focus, sharpening every sense as I study the way his muscles coil, how his weight shifts soundlessly over the earth. Every fiber of my being hones in on him. The forest seems to hold its breath—time itself stretching thin around us, suspended in silence. Even the wind stills. I catch the rabbit’s heartbeat—it flutters like a leaf caught in a breeze. It’s subtle, but I hear it, feel it, as if it’s echoing inside my chest. But just as I’m about to shift my attention back to Magnus, something else grips me entirely. The air shifts. Cold and unnatural. It seeps through my fur like frostwater, heavy and foreboding, and my entire body stiffens. A shiver slices down my spine, sharp as a blade. The hush of the forest no longer feels expectant—it feels wrong. A chill of instinctual dread sinks into my bones. I turn around. And freeze.