Filed to story: Tangled in Moonlight Unshifted Novel by Lenaleia
[MRS. ELKINS: Keep them, dear. Start your own library. They’ve already been up there for a decade gathering dust anyway.]
I look at the books with new appreciation. My own library? The thought had never occurred to me. In the Blackwood Pack, books were a luxury. Books were unnecessary, and Mom and Dad weren’t interested in feeding my addiction to fantasy worlds and lives that could take me away from my own, at least for a while.
But now, surrounded by the musty scent of old pages, the idea doesn’t seem so farfetched.
Selene’s cold nose snuffles against my hand, and I realize I’ve stopped petting her. “What do you think, Selene? Should we keep them all?”
What a silly question. As if it was ever an option to get rid of them. Who throws away books? @
She lets out a contented sigh, which I choose to interpret as a yes.
My fingers linger over the spines of the books, their textures as varied as their titles. Some are smooth, others ridged, a few even cracked with age. Each one holds a story, a world waiting to be explored. And now, they’re mine.
Mine to read, mine to cherish, mine to display.
But where?
I stand, ignoring Selene’s huff of displeasure at being disturbed, and survey the living room with a critical eye. The walls are bare, save for a few generic paintings that came with the apartment. They’ll have to go, replaced by shelves.
Shelves that will hold my new library.
I pace the room, measuring with my steps. The wall opposite the couch could fit a tall bookcase, perfect for the hardcovers. The smaller paperbacks could go on a lower shelf, maybe under the window. And the romance novels? They deserve a special place, perhaps a little nook in the corner where I can curl up and lose myself in their pages again one day.
Yes, that could work.
But the living room in not the atort inat
My hodroom had a wall that’s practically begging for a bookshelf. I could wake up every morning and see my beloved books, ready and waiting to be read. And maybe, just maybe, I could squeeze a small shelf into the bathroom. For those long soaks in the tub, when I want nothing more than to escape into a good story.
The possibilities are endless, limited only by the space I have and the strength of the shelves. But I’m determined. These books have waited long enough to be read, to be loved. They deserve a home, and I’m going to give them one.
Selene watches me from her spot on the couch, her blue eyes curious. “What do you think, girl? Should we go shopping for bookshelves tomorrow?”
She tilts her head, considering, then lets out a soft bark.
I take that as a yes as my mind races down the rabbithole of shopping, of crisp white bookshelves and the colorful book spines that would enliven them up. Maybe I would even do something a little crazy and organize all my books by color. It would be impractical, yes, but fun.
And those little dreams dance and twirl through my mind until they stop with a jerk and a dip in my belly as reality sets in. Bookshelves cost money. Money that I don’t have in abundance, not with my barista wages. Not with how much I’ve spent just to establish life here.
I sink back onto the couch, my enthusiasm gone. Happy Ava is gone, and regular Ava is back. Selene senses my mood shift and nuzzles my hand in silent comfort.
“It’s fine. Eating and saving for school is more important than bookshelves. Once I have a car, once I’m settled in classes, things will change.”
But the thought of these books, these precious stories, languishing in piles on the floor is almost painful. They deserve better. They deserve a proper home.
And I think about all those popular DIY videos I’ve watched while dreaming of building a better life. People turning old crates into rustic shelves, repurposing ladders into quirky bookcases, even building shelves, from scratch with nothing but a few planks of wood and a trusty drill.
“I bet I can do that.” I sit up again, staring at my walls. It can’t be that hard, can it? I can build them myself, right?
Selene’s ears perk up at the excitement in my voice.
“I just need some wood, a drill, maybe a saw, if I manage to keep from slicing my fingers off…” I trail off, the list of tools growing in my mind. Tools that I also don’t have.
But the idea has wrapped its sticky tentacles all over my mind’s eye, and I can’t shake it off. Rough hewn shelves, crafted by me, holding my books. A labor of love. A step to independence.
I pace the living room. I want this so much, my skin is crawling with all the energy boiling inside of me. The pacing helps. “I can ask Carlos if he has any tools I can borrow. Or maybe Mrs. Elkins has a friend who can help me out.”
The possibilities are spinning in my head, my apartment fading away as I dream of myself wielding electric tools like a badass. But then, like a record scratch, reality intrudes.
I’ve never built anything in my life. I don’t know the first thing about woodworking or carpentry. What if I mess it up? What if I ruin the wood, or worse, hurt myself in the process? What if it looks hideous? What if the weight of the books causes everything to fall after all the hard work I put in?
The doubts creep in, insidious and persistent. Who am I kidding? I’m no handyman. I’m a defective shifter who ran away from home. No talents, no skills, nothing. Just an ache in my chest that won’t leave, dreams of a man who tore my heart apart, and zero prospects for my future.
I sink back onto the couch, deflated once more. Selene whines, and I bury my face into her soft fur, wondering what I need to do in order to change. To turn into a real adult who can stand on her own two feet.
You’re pathetic, Ava. Get up. You walked away from your asshole family. You’re stronger than this. Stop acting like the weak defect they think you are, and grow up.
Yeah. It’s time to stop wallowing.
I take a deep breath and sit up. “No. If I want to build shelves, I will. I can figure this shit out. It can’t be that hard.”
LUCAS
The frost of winter thaws, giving way to the brisk air of spring. The days drag on, each moment blurring into the next as my frustration builds. Weeks have passed since that fateful night at the Lunar Gala, and still, the
Blackwood Pack’s intentions remain shrouded in mystery, even with summer peeking around the corner. My wolf paces restlessly within me, yearning for answers, for action, for her.
My obsession grows.
I slam my fist on the desk, the impact reverberating through the room. Kellan, ever the loyal beta, barely flinches. He knows better than to disturb me when I’m like this, consumed by the need to unravel the web of secrets that surrounds us.
A missive arrived last week from Alpha Blackwood, a terse notification that his beta’s daughter, Jessa Grey, would be attending the local university here in Granite City. The balls on that asshole, sending her into our territory without so much as a proper request for permission. It’s an unspoken rule among our kind, a courtesy extended to the ruling pack when an outsider plans to stay within their domain.
I can’t help but wonder if this is another ploy, another move in the twisted game that Blackwood seems intent on playing. Jessa’s presence here, so close to the heart of our pack, sets my teeth on edge. What secrets does she carry? What lies will she spin to further her alpha’s agenda?
My thoughts drift naturally to her, the girl who haunts my every waking moment. Ava. The memory of her scent, her touch, the way she surrendered to me in the gardenit’s seared into my very being. And yet, my hatred grows by the day.
I push myself away from the desk, pacing the length of my office like a caged beast. The cool air brought in by an open window does little to soothe my restless spirit. I need answers.
“Kellan,” I bark, my voice slicing through the silence. “I want eyes on Jessa Grey the moment she sets foot in Granite City. I want to know her every move, every breath she takes. And if you find even a whisper of information about her sister…”
I leave the sentence hanging, the implication clear. Kellan nods, his expression grim. He understands the gravity of the situation, the weight that rests upon our shoulders.
The silence stretches between us as I once again contemplate the possible motives behind the Blackwood Pack’s actions, like we have a thousand times. But this time, I let my mind linger on Ava.
On the garden. On that scent that I can never forget and how there was something different about it all. My mind races, trying to piece together the fragments of information we’ve gathered.
“What if they’ve developed some kind of pheromone enhancer?” I muse aloud, my eyes focused on something beyond the walls of this room. “A way to force a mate connection, to manipulate the bond between wolves.”
Kellan frowns, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Lucas. When I met Ava that night, I didn’t sense anything unusual. No hint of artificial pheromones or manipulation.”
I scoff, turning to face him. “She probably applied it in the garden, knowing I was watching her. It’s the perfect setup, don’t you see? Lure me in, make me believe there’s a connection, and then use that to gain a foothold in our pack.”
Kellan hesitates, his brow furrowed in thought. “I suppose that’s possible, but her relationship with her family seemed strained. The way they interacted, the tension between them, wasn’t faked. It didn’t feel like a united front.”
I grimace. “Exactly. And that’s why it’s even more likely. Think about it, Kellan. If Ava’s relationship with her father is rocky, she’d be even more desperate to prove herself, to earn his approval. Sacrificing herself, using her body as a tool to further their agenda… it’s exactly the kind of thing a desperate wolf would do.”
Kellan’s eyes widen. “I hadn’t considered that angle. It does make a twisted sort of sense.”
I turn away, my hands curling into fists at my sides. The thought of Ava being used in such a way, of her willing participation in this deception, fuels the rage that warms my skin.
“We need to be prepared for anything,” I growl, my voice low and dangerous. “The Blackwood Pack is up
)
to something. I won’t let them destroy everything we’ve built, everything we stand for.”
Kellan’s expression is grim. “I know. We all do. We’re behind you, Lucas. We’ll keep a close eye on Jessa, and if we find any evidence of foul play…”
“We’ll show them what happens when they try to mess with the Westwood Pack.” There’s no other option.
I turn to face the window, my gaze sweeping over the city that is mine to protect. The Blackwood Pack may be able to hold their secrets, but they have no idea who they’re dealing with. I will uncover the truth, no matter the cost.
***
A sharp knock at the door jolts me awake, scattering the papers strewn across my desk. I blink, trying to clear the fog of sleep from my mind as I realize I must have dozed off while poring over the latest reports from Granite City.
“Come in,” I call out, my voice rough.
The door swings open, revealing one of my deltas, Ryder Thorn. He enters the room, his posture stiff and his expression guarded. I can sense his unease. the way he seems to be holding back.
“What is it?” I ask, straightening in my chair. No alpha should be caught sleeping on the job.