Chapter Text
“A shifter’s instincts may recognize a biological change before the conscious mind does.”
~ The Mooncrest Academy Codex of Student Conduct & Shifter Regulation, §4.3.2 — Instinctive Response
Three seconds on the clock.
The pass was caught just beyond the arc.
Two seconds.
He planted his feet, rose up, and leapt. The ball left his fingertips at the height of the jump.
One.
The ball sailed in a clean, perfect arc towards the basket.
Zero.
Swish.
Nothing but net.
Cheers erupted from the packed gymnasium as the Monarchs tied the score at the last second of the quarter.
Spectators crowded the bleachers— a wave of Mooncrest’s purple and silver on one side, Reapers black and crimson on the other.
One side’s cheers crashed against the other’s disappointment, becoming one collective roar that rose to the rafters.
The soles of athletic shoes squeaked against polished hardwood as the teams left the court, retreating to their respective sides for hydration and a brief huddle with their coaches.
The scoreboard on the wall updated with a ping, triggering another explosion from the crowd. Cheers, whistles, chants, and the occasional bellow of an airhorn rose to an almost deafening level.
For Ajax Vetrovin, it was just another Tuesday.
The Monarchs team captain and combo guard had always possessed a flair for the dramatic.
It wasn’t enough to win. He liked the comeback—the twelve-point deficit erased in the fourth, the impossible shot from somewhere beyond the arc, the ball leaving his fingertips a fraction of a second before the buzzer. He played best when the clock was bleeding out and the pressure was mounting, as though the possibility of losing only made him sharper.
Mooncrest loved him for it.
Everyone else fucking hated him.
It didn’t help that Ajax had the skill to justify the theatrics. He was fast, aggressive, and frighteningly observant, picking apart opposing defenses until he found the weakness and worrying at it like the direwolf he was. He could run the offense as easily as he could take it over, feeding his teammates opportunities until the moment came when Mooncrest needed him to stop creating shots for everyone else and make one himself.
And when a game came down to one possession, everyone in the gym knew exactly whose hands the ball would end up in.
“Vetrovin.”
Ajax looked up from his water bottle.
Coach was halfway through explaining whatever adjustment he wanted them to make in the third, marker squeaking furiously across the whiteboard. Ajax had been listening. Mostly.
Then something changed.
His hand stilled around the bottle.
The gym smelled the way gyms always did—sweat, polished hardwood, rubber soles, sports drinks, and the mingled scents of several hundred shifters packed shoulder-to-shoulder in the bleachers.
Except this time, there was something different.
What is that?
Ajax inhaled again before he could stop himself.
Something warm and sweet threaded through the rest. Delicate enough that he should’ve lost it beneath the overwhelming press of bodies.
He didn’t. His head turned.
“Vetrovin.”
“I’m listening.”
“You’re looking at the bleachers.”
“I’m multitasking.”
A couple of his teammates snickered.
Ajax ignored them. Coach sighed.
The scent came again and Ajax’s pulse stumbled.
Something beneath his skin stirred with it—an abrupt, visceral awareness that made every muscle in his body draw tight.
Vulcan.
Ajax went perfectly still.
His wolf.
What is it?
His attention traveled across the bleachers.
Purple and silver. Faces he recognized. Students standing in the aisles. Someone waving a homemade sign. A cluster of juniors arguing over a bag of popcorn.
His attention passed over all of them.
There.
Ajax’s gaze came to a sudden halt.
Higher.
He raised his eyes higher, stopping three sections up.
No.
There, Vulcan repeated, more insistently.
Absolutely fucking not.
His wolf surged forward with such sudden interest that his fingers crushed the plastic bottle in his hand.
Water shot directly onto his chest.
His teammates burst out laughing.
“Gods, Vetrovin. The hell’s gotten into you?”
Thoma nudged him with an elbow. “Hey. You good?”
Ajax barely heard him.
“Ajax?”
Yes.
No.
You wanted to know. I’m showing you.
Ajax’s eyes focused on someone in the bleachers—someone familiar.
A girl stood among the sea of spectators; one hand curled around the railing as she leaned toward a friend beside her. Golden hair spilled over her shoulders, catching beneath the harsh gymnasium lights like spun sunlight. She was laughing at something, head tipped back, utterly oblivious to the fact that somewhere below, Ajax Vetrovin had forgotten how to breathe.
It’s her.
No, it isn’t.
Then why are you staring?
“Vetrovin!”
Fingers snapped loudly in his face.
Ajax blinked. “Yeah, Coach?”
“Unless the bleachers have suddenly developed a defense strategy I need to know about, I’d appreciate having my captain back sometime before the third quarter starts.”
“Sorry,” Ajax said. “My bad.”
Thoma gave him a puzzled look. “What’s up, man?”
“Nothing,” Ajax lied.
Something, Vulcan intoned.
I’m ignoring you now.
Can’t ignore me forever.
The buzzer sounded, calling both teams back onto the court.
Ajax stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders, forcing the last few minutes out of his head.
Whatever the hell that had been, he could figure it out later.
Right now, they had a game to win.
He tossed his bottle onto the bench and joined the others filing onto the hardwood. The noise of the gym swelled around him again, but this time he welcomed it. He bounced once on the balls of his feet, shook out his arms, and let instinct and training settle back into place.
Basketball. Winning. Crushing the Reapers.
That was all that mattered.
“Ajax.”
Thoma caught his arm before he could step onto the court.
Ajax glanced down at his hand, then up at him. “What?”
Thoma studied his face. “You sure you’re good?”
“For the third time, yes.”
“You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”
“I was distracted.”
“By?”
Ajax’s gaze almost betrayed him.
Almost.
Instead, he clapped Thoma on the shoulder and flashed him an easy grin. “Your tragic inability to defend the perimeter.”
Thoma shoved him away. “Asshole.”
“There he is.” Ajax backpedaled onto the court. “Was starting to worry about you.”
Thoma rolled his eyes and followed.
We like her smell.
Vulcan’s communication came through just as the whistle blew.
Ajax’s grin vanished.
We don’t like her. It’s a fluke.
It’s not.
It has to be.
It isn’t and you know it.
That’s Lumine Everhart.
I know that.
Then you should know that it’s not possible.
How do you know?
Because she hates me.
Do you hate her?
Ajax stole a quick glance at the girl in the bleachers.
Their eyes met.
Lumine Everhart scowled at him.
Ajax smirked.
Yes. I hate her. Now can you please relax so I can help us win this game?
Game time.
The ball came in.
Ajax caught the pass near the backcourt and immediately pushed up the floor.
Whatever the hell was happening with Vulcan would have to wait.
Mooncrest had a game to win.
•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•
By the time Ajax made it back to his dorm, the victory had already been thoroughly celebrated.
His parents had been waiting outside the gym with his younger siblings, his mother crushing him into a hug despite his repeated warnings that he was disgusting, his father clapping him hard enough between the shoulders to nearly send him into the wall.
His friends had been worse. Thoma had reenacted Ajax’s buzzer-beater approximately six times over dinner, each rendition becoming progressively less accurate until Ajax was apparently shooting blindfolded from the opposite end of the court while being tackled by three Reapers.
They’d won by seven.
Ajax had scored twenty-three.
A good night.
A typical night.
By eleven, he was finally alone.
He showered until the last of the sweat and gymnasium stink disappeared down the drain, brushed his teeth, and dragged on a pair of sleep pants before collapsing onto the edge of his bed.
His phone had accumulated forty-seven notifications.
“Goddess…”
Three missed Snaps from Thoma. Twelve messages in the team group chat. A video someone had posted of the shot at the end of the second quarter already had several thousand views, accompanied by a caption declaring: VETROVIN IS FUCKING DISGUSTING—which Ajax decided was complimentary enough to repost.
There were follow requests. Tags. Comments. A message from his grandmother. Two from his mother, despite the fact that he’d seen her less than two hours ago.
And one from—
Ajax paused.
Katya.
A photo waited in his Snap notifications: her smiling at the camera in a Mooncrest sweatshirt, followed by a message.
Nice shot, superstar. Your mother says we’re still on for dinner Saturday? ❤️
Ajax stared at it for a second before typing back.
Wouldn’t miss it.
He added a heart because not adding one would somehow become a diplomatic incident involving both families.
Katya was nice.
More than nice, actually. Pretty, smart, sweet. An omega from an excellent family his parents had known practically forever. Ajax had grown up with the understanding that someday—after graduation, university, careers, and all the other appropriate milestones—Katya would probably become his Luna.
Nobody had ever formally arranged anything, but nobody felt they needed to either.
It was simply one of those things everyone seemed to know.
Ajax had never particularly minded…
…Until tonight, apparently.
He tossed the phone onto his comforter and rolled onto his back. He ran a hand through his damp hair and let out a slow breath.
He stared at the phone. Then finally picked it back up. Before he even realized what he was doing, he’d opened up Instagram. And searched Lumine Everhart.
Ajax frowned at himself.
What the fuck was he doing?
That scent.
Don’t start.
Vulcan went quiet.
Ajax stared at Lumine’s profile anyway—as if he needed reminding of what she looked like.
He’d known Everhart since they were children.
It was difficult not to know her. Their fathers moved in the same circles, they’d attended the same schools for years, and Mooncrest had spent the better part of their adolescence putting the two of them in direct competition with each other. Trials. Rankings. Academic honors. Athletics. Student leadership.
If Ajax came first, Lumine was usually second.
If Lumine came first, Ajax was usually standing directly beneath her name on the board wondering how the hell she’d managed it.
Their rivalry had started so young neither of them seemed to remember who had actually declared war first.
He remembered her at twelve, muddy from head to toe after the Junior Ascension Trials, staring at the rankings with her arms crossed because she’d beaten him by three-tenths of a point.
He remembered telling her it was beginner’s luck.
He remembered her informing him, very sweetly, to go fuck himself.
Ajax smiled despite himself.
When realized he was smiling, the smile very quickly disappeared.
This was ridiculous.
This was Lumine freaking Everheart. She was annoying, competitive, and insufferably pleased with herself whenever she beat him at anything.
Smells nice.
Ajax stopped. There it was again.
Not the scent itself, but the memory of it.
Warm. Sweet. Something delicate beneath it that he still couldn’t identify.
His body responded to the recollection with an inexplicable tightening low in his stomach.
Vulcan lifted his head somewhere inside him.
Smells delicious.
Go to sleep.
Not tired.
Vulcan.
Neither are you…
Heat rose to Ajax’s face as he realized his wolf’s meaning.
Goddess…
He looked down at the bulge in his pajama pants.
Wide awake.
Ajax shook his head. “No. No fucking way. I did not just get hard thinking about Lumine fucking Everhart.”
But you did.
I’m going to sleep now.
Ajax locked his phone and dropped it facedown onto the nightstand. He switched off the lamp.
For several minutes, he stared into the darkness.
Then his phone vibrated again.
Ajax ignored it.
Two more vibrations.
He groaned, reached blindly for it, and squinted against the sudden brightness.
Another team message. He dismissed it. His thumb hovered over the screen. Then, without consciously deciding to, he opened Instagram again.
Lumine’s profile was still there.
Ajax stared at it.
Vulcan didn’t say a word.
The smug bastard didn’t need to.
•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•
Ajax walked into the Academy’s educational center like he owned the place.
In fairness, there were days when it felt like he did.
The moment he pushed through the double doors, heads turned.
“Vetrovin!”
A hand shot out from somewhere to his left. Ajax caught it without breaking stride, clasping palms with one of his teammates before bumping shoulders with another.
“Twenty-three points, you absolute bastard.”
“Twenty-four,” Ajax corrected.
“Twenty-three.”
Ajax frowned. “Really?”
“You don’t even know how many points you scored?”
“I was busy winning.”
“Prick.”
Ajax grinned and kept walking.
Another teammate offered a fist. Ajax bumped it. Someone farther down the corridor shouted something about the buzzer-beater, earning a casual salute in response.
“Good morning, Mr. Vetrovin.”
Ajax immediately straightened.
“Professor Zhongli.” He dipped his head politely. “Morning.”
“Excellent game last night.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Your calculus assignment was less impressive.”
Ajax’s smile faltered.
Zhongli continued past him.
“I’ll have it corrected by lunch,” Ajax called after him.
“I should hope so.”
A cluster of girls standing beside the stairwell giggled.
Ajax glanced over. One of them smiled. He smiled back. The giggling intensified.
Normal.
Everything was perfectly, wonderfully normal.
“It’s revolting.”
Ajax glanced toward Thoma, who had appeared beside him.
“What is?”
Thoma gestured vaguely at him. “That.”
“You’ll have to be more specific. There’s a lot to admire.”
“The whole thing. You walk through a door and suddenly everybody forgets how to behave.”
Ajax slung an arm around his shoulders. “Jealousy is an ugly color on you.”
“Get off me.”
“Love you too.”
They headed upstairs together.
“So,” Thoma said, “two months.”
Ajax groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
“Oh, I’m reminding you. Eighteen.”
“I know how birthdays work.”
“The big one.”
Ajax shoved his hands into his pockets. “Apparently.”
Calling it the big one was an understatement.
Eighteen meant maturation.
His first full shift could happen anytime afterward. Communication with Vulcan would strengthen. His senses would sharpen. His instincts would settle into their adult state.
And, theoretically, he could recognize his fated mate.
If he had one.
Ajax had always assumed that particular revelation would be somewhat anticlimactic.
Katya was an omega. Their families had been close since before either of them could walk. She was beautiful, intelligent, well-bred, and already treated by approximately half the Vetrovin family as though becoming Ajax’s Luna was merely a matter of paperwork.
Nobody had officially promised anybody to anybody.
This wasn’t the Dark Ages. Still… everyone knew.
“So,” Thoma said, “how many people are coming?”
“No idea.”
“Your party.”
“I understood the question.”
“And?”
“My mother stopped telling me after three hundred.”
Thoma stopped walking.
Ajax continued another two steps before realizing he’d lost him.
“Three hundred?”
“Apparently.”
“At a birthday party?”
“It’s not my fault people like me.”
“Your ego is genuinely breathtaking.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t—”
She is here.
Ajax stopped so suddenly that Thoma nearly walked into him.
“Gods, Ajax.”
Ajax didn’t hear him.
Vulcan stirred once again.
Ajax felt the wolf’s attention snap toward something with such intensity that his own senses followed automatically.
There. That scent.
Ajax inhaled.
Warm, sweet...
Soft beneath the sharper smells of coffee, perfume, old paper, floor polish, and several hundred teenage shifters moving through the corridor.
He recognized it immediately.
His stomach dropped.
No.
It’s her.
I know.
She’s close.
Thank you, Vulcan. Extremely helpful.
“Ajax?” Thoma’s voice seemed far away.
He rounded the corner, and there she was.
Lumine Everhart stood beside her locker with two of her friends, one shoulder resting against the metal while she listened to some apparently riveting story. Her golden hair fell loose down her back. She was smiling.
Then she laughed and Vulcan surged forward.
There.
Ajax swallowed. Thoma stopped beside him.
“What?”
Ajax said nothing.
Lumine hadn’t seen him yet. Thank the Goddess.
Go.
No.
Closer.
Absolutely fucking not.
Vulcan sent a pulse of irritation through him.
Ajax ignored it.
“Dude.”
“What?”
Thoma was staring at him.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“You’ve been standing there, staring into space for at least fifteen seconds.”
Ajax shot him a look.
Thoma followed his line of sight. His eyebrows rose.
“Oh.” Thoma grinned. “Everhart?”
“Shut up.” Ajax scowled at him.
“I was just saying...”
“You don’t have to say shit. I have eyes.”
Ajax looked toward Lumine again.
He couldn’t seem to look away.
Why not go say hello?
I’d rather lick the floor of the locker room.
Dramatic.
Lumine’s head turned and their eyes met.
For one strange second, the hallway seemed to narrow around her.
Vulcan pressed hard against the edge of his consciousness.
Smells so sweet.
I swear to the Goddess—
Lumine’s eyes narrowed.
Ajax realized he was staring. Then he quickly turned and started walking in the opposite direction.
“What the hell is up with you today?” Thoma finally asked.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m fine.”
“What’d she do?” Thoma asked.
Ajax glanced at him. “Who?”
“Lumine Everhart.”
“Why are we talking about her?”
“Because,” Thoma laughed, “you were staring at her like she’d sprouted a second head.”
“She didn’t do anything,” Ajax said.
Thoma looked skeptical. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“She beat you at something?”
“No.”
“Did you beat her at something?”
“No.”
Thoma snapped his fingers. “I know what it is.”
Ajax gave him a look.
“The Combat Theory scores were just released.”
“So?”
“I’m guessing you haven’t seen the list.”
Ajax shook his head. “Not yet. Why?”
“She scored a 99.6, you scored a 99.3.”
She beat us.
She got lucky.
“By three tenths. That’s hardly worth getting worked up over.” Ajax rolled his eyes.
Then why are you so upset?
Ajax’s hands clenched into fists at his side.
Thoma gestured impatiently. “Yeah, but you two are always pissing each other off. Or trying to one-up each other somehow.”
“I’m not competing against Lumine Everhart,” Ajax said with a scoff. “But if I was, then I wouldn’t have to worry because there’s no way she’d ever beat me.”
Thoma chuckled. “You are so full of it.”
Ajax ignored him, hoping to direct the conversation away from the subject of Lumine Everhart.
After last night’s unfortunate situation, he’d been trying to put her out of his mind. He’d been doing alright… until just a few minutes ago.
“Think she’ll show up at your party?”
Ajax laughed. “No way. And I don’t want her there.”
“C’mon, Vetrovin. The whole school will be there. Do you honestly think she hates you enough to be the only person not going?”
“She wasn’t invited.”
“Her brother was,” Thoma reminded him. “And they’re close—as you know.”
Aether Everhart was one of Ajax’s closest friends. They’d been teammates for years. Ajax trusted him on the court almost instinctively; he knew exactly where Aether would be before he looked, knew when he’d cut for the basket, knew when to pass and when Aether would expect him to take the shot himself.
Off the court wasn’t much different.
They studied together. Trained together. Ate together often enough that Ajax’s mother routinely asked whether Aether would be joining them for dinner before Ajax had even invited him.
Lumine was another matter entirely.
Ajax liked Aether.
Ajax tolerated Aether’s twin sister because homicide was generally frowned upon in civilized society.
“If she wants to come—which I’m almost certain she doesn’t—then I can’t stop her. And I really don’t care either way.”
“What is your issue with her anyway?”
“I don’t have any issues,” Ajax insisted. “I just find her annoying and unpleasant to be around.”
“If you two are fighting again, I’m staying out of it.”
“We’re not fighting.”
“Good. Last time you two were fighting, Aether spent an entire week complaining to me about being caught in the middle.”
Ajax scoffed. “Nobody asked him to get involved.”
“You stole his sister’s clothes.”
“I did not steal her clothes.”
“You took her gym bag.”
“By accident.”
“And hid it on the roof.”
“That part was on purpose.”
Thoma laughed.
“She deserved it.”
“What did she do?”
“She replaced the sugar in my coffee with salt.”
Thoma considered this. “Yeah, okay. She deserved it.”
“Thank you.”
Thoma bumped his shoulder. “What about Katya?”
“Katya?”
“She’ll be at your party, right?”
Ajax smiled genuinely. “Yeah. Of course.”
“As your date?”
“She’s coming with her friends.”
“So… not your date.”
“I didn’t say that,” Ajax argued.
“You didn’t ask her?”
“I don’t have to ask her.”
Thoma gave him a curious look. “That’s how dating generally works.”
“Not with Katya.”
“Right.” Thoma nodded sagely. “Because whatever the hell you two have going on exists beyond the petty constraints of normal courtship.”
Ajax shoved him.
Thoma laughed.
The truth was, Ajax didn’t really know what to call Katya.
Girlfriend wasn’t exactly right.
They went out. Sometimes alone, sometimes with friends. He’d taken her to dances. She’d accompanied him to family functions. They kissed occasionally. She wore his hoodies often enough that Ajax had stopped expecting to get them back.
But neither of them had ever sat down and decided they were officially together.
They’d never needed to.
“So, what are you?” Thoma asked.
“She doesn’t care about labels.”
“Convenient.”
“It’s not like that.”
Katya genuinely didn’t care.
Ajax had asked her once, months ago, whether it bothered her that people constantly referred to them as a couple when technically neither of them had ever established that they were one.
She’d looked at him over the rim of her coffee and said, Do you want to date someone else?
He’d said no.
She’d shrugged.
Neither do I. Problem solved.
That had been that.
Thoma considered him. “So, you’re exclusive.”
“I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Neither of us is seeing anyone else.”
“Katya spends holidays with you, goes to your games, steals your clothes, kisses you, and neither of you dates anyone else.” Thoma ticked off each point with a finger.
“Correct.”
“But she’s not your girlfriend.”
Ajax thought about it. “No.”
Thoma grinned. “So, if somebody asked Katya whether you were her boyfriend, what would she say?”
Ajax could practically hear her answer.
“Probably, ‘Something like that.’”
Thoma barked a laugh. “Of course she would.”
“She doesn’t obsess over shit like that.”
That was one of the things Ajax liked about her.
Katya didn’t need constant reassurance about where she stood. She wasn’t counting dates or anniversaries or demanding some grand declaration that transformed whatever existed between them into an official Relationship—with a capital R.
There was an understanding.
Someday Ajax would mature. Katya would mature. If the Goddess saw fit to bond them, then everything everyone had expected since they were children would fall neatly into place.
And if she didn’t… Well…
Neither Ajax nor Katya talked much about that part.
“Match made under the Moon,” Thoma said.
Ajax groaned. “Don’t start.”
“Ajax Vetrovin and Katya Sokolova. Alpha and omega. Childhood sweethearts. Two prestigious direwolf families united beneath the benevolent gaze of the Goddess—”
“We’re not childhood sweethearts.”
“Childhood acquaintances with benefits?”
Ajax smacked him in the chest.
“Ow.”
“Don’t call it that.”
“Undefined childhood associates?”
“Better.”
“Pre-engaged?”
“Worse.”
“Romantically adjacent?”
Ajax considered it.
“Actually, that’s not bad.”
Thoma shook his head. “You people are exhausting.”
“There’s nothing exhausting about it. That’s the entire point.”
And there wasn’t.
Katya was easy.
Whatever existed between them required almost nothing from either of them. No jealousy. No pressure. No endless conversations about what are we? They liked each other. Their families liked each other. Neither wanted anyone else.
Eventually, presumably, nature would fill in the blanks.
“Your mother would probably cancel the entire thing if your future Luna couldn’t make it.”
Ajax groaned. “Don’t call her that.”
“What?”
“My future Luna.”
“Why? That’s what everyone else calls her.”
“Not to my face.”
“Fine. Your beautiful, intelligent, socially appropriate omega companion whom both families have coincidentally spent seventeen years positioning directly beside you.”
The annoying part was that he wasn’t exactly wrong.
Katya made sense. She had always made sense.
Maybe not her.
What?
Vulcan shifted somewhere in the back of his consciousness.
Not Katya.
Ajax frowned. Nobody asked you.
You were thinking it.
Ajax’s frown deepened.
There are no secrets from me, Alpha.
Ajax’s mouth tightened. What’s your problem with Katya? You never had one before.
No problem.
Okay. Good.
Just thinking.
It’s dangerous when you start thinking, Vulcan…
Thoma clapped Ajax on the back suddenly, bringing him back out of his head.
“I’m late for Advanced Field Survival. See you at lunch?”
“Yeah. Sounds good.”
Ajax met Thoma’s hand in an easy slap, their fingers hooking briefly before they broke apart.
“Try not to have another existential crisis before lunch,” Thoma said, already backing toward the opposite corridor.
“Try passing your midterm,” Ajax shot back.
“I got an eighty-nine!”
“Exactly.”
“Fuck you, Vetrovin.”
Ajax grinned and turned away.
Alone again, he adjusted the strap of his bag and headed toward class.
Soon, Vulcan communicated.
I know.
Two months.
In two months, Ajax would turn eighteen. He’d mature. Vulcan would mature with him. Maybe he’d discover that the Goddess had already made the decision everyone else seemed so confident she’d make.
Katya Sokolova.
His mate. His eventual Luna. Ajax tried the thought on.
Nothing about it frightened him.
Nothing about it particularly surprised him, either.