Thanks to @-Mischief-Managed- for the awesome cover.

    It is unique, the feeling of a kiss. Sebastian's lips caress mine, sending an unforgettable sensation throughout my body. There is an ignition inside of me, and I have the opportunity to back away, to push myself off of him, but I cannot. Half of me is gripped on tight, not willing to put an end to the pleasant feeling on my lips and in the pit of my stomach. His hand rests on the side of my face, holding back any stray hairs from slipping down and interrupting. It is a gentle kiss, no force, just pure instinct. When it does come to an end, I find myself wanting more.

There are no words spoken between us. Sebastian pulls me into his hold and continues to embrace me through the night. No nightmare or terror comes to me, but a dream instead. A dream about my mate, about our kiss and so much more. My mind will not let go of the feeling. When we connected, it felt overwhelmingly right. As if my lips were only to be used by his, only to be enjoyed by him, and the other way around. I want to kiss again, to kiss every time I see his handsome face or every time he avoids my questions or every time we are laying in bed and about to drift off. Maybe I am addicted to the feeling.

It is around three in the morning when a disruptive and firm knock breaks out on the other side of the bedroom door. My eyes fly open, and my heart hurdles from my chest. Sebastian's arms tenderly let go of me as he gets up and walks to answer it. It all seems like part of my dream that the bedroom door has now become the front door. Who is here for a visit today? I steadily sit up and rub my knuckles into my eyes. When Sebastian opens the door enough to reveal little, the light from the hallway trickles in.

"Andrew, what is it?" His voice is rough, making me pay attention. I only hear murmurs of Andrews' voice, not enough to make out words. "Who was it?"

Sebastian glances back at me, and I straighten up.

"I have to go," he says, and I swiftly climb out of bed.

"I'm coming with you."

"Evangeline—"

I locate the robe and wrap it around my body. "I'm coming with you. Unless you are suddenly charging into battle?"

He sighs.

I grab Sebastian a shirt and hand it to him at the door. He takes it and lets me through. Andrew greets me, and the three of us head out of the house. The temperature outside seems to be merely freezing, so I stay close to my mate and keep my arms close to my body. "Where are we going?"

"To the west border," Andrew informs me. "There has been a killing."

"A killing? Who was killed?" I look up at Sebastian.

"A guard. A man I trusted."

Andrew explains further. "You could say he was our most valuable guard, someone with substantial experience."

The moon glares down at us as the frigid breeze strokes my cheeks. The night seems darker, the stars are sparse, and gloomy clouds cover our only source of light. Is he here? Is he watching? It is quiet around us, the only significant sounds being that if our footsteps through the damp grass. My ears wait for the crack of a twig or the rustle of a brush.

"You can go back," Sebastian tells me.

"No. I have a feeling that this happened because of me."

The leaves are wet and molded together. It had rained, but I did not hear the pattering in my sleep. The atmosphere clings to my skin, cold, soggy, and thick. Andrew peers back at us, most likely confused by my words. How could Evangeline be the cause of a man's death?

The closer we get, the tighter my chest grows. Soon we are engulfed by the trees and other voices reach my ears. My chest hurts.

Andrew brings us up to a group of five men, guards, as they all surround one thing, a body. Their eyes fixate on their Alpha, the ringleader, before falling upon me. I can almost hear the questions floating in their heads. Why is she here? Who is she? What does she have to do with this? I know the answer, but it would take a while to explain.

My eyes find the courage to eventually look towards the body, seeing dark almost brown liquid staining his skin and the grass beneath. The man is nude but covered in specific areas. The smell of death and blood is potent, yet I seem to be the only one affected by it. The body is mutilated. If I had known the man before, I would not be able to recognize him now. It is as if the beast has gotten him, and has torn into his stomach. There are gashes along the body, deep enough to give my eyes a view of the inner workings. I cannot help but look away. It is all too gruesome, too grim.

I grab Sebastian's hand, letting the relaxing sensations cleanse me. "Evangeline, I think it is best if you go," he tells me.

"It's because of me, isn't it? Because of me, a man is dead," I say all too loudly. The guards turn to me again, this time no longer covered by solemn expressions.

"Alright," he says lowly, "I think you better go back to the house. Calm down, go back to bed."

I want to stay, I want to cling to him, but the smell of slaughter is drawing me away. This man did not deserve to die, but he did because I am here. The Alpha knows where I am, and he no longer needs to ask questions.

My feet carry me back through the trees, but I can hardly focus. Like in my dream, they seem to sway and blend then sway apart again. My knees buckle, and I grip a near tree to steady myself. I had never seen a dead body before. The smell, the sight—it's sickening, and even more sickening because I caused it. I can no longer hold it down, the contents of my stomach empty onto the forest floor. My head spins as I hunch over. "I did this," I croak into the dense air.

"This death is not your burden," her voice wraps around me.

"They're after me, I know it. They're going to kill everyone until they get to me."

"Obsession is a weak man's game."

I look up at the moon goddess. "Is he going to kill me?"

She glows amongst my gray surroundings as if the moon is primarily focused on her. "Death comes to those who are unwilling to fight. You are willing, Evangeline."

"I-I'm not a killer. My grandmother fought back, and she ended up stabbing the man in his chest."

"You are not your Grandmother."

"I'm worse," I mutter and stand up.

Death, it did not even affect the others at all, even my mate was straight-faced. They have seen it all too many times perhaps. I looked like a fool, a weak girl who had to cover her eyes from the reality in front of her. A truth that she molded with her own bare hands, finishing the work of her mother and grandmother before her.

I make my way out of the trees and towards the house. Now would be an excellent time to strike, would it not? I am all alone. The Alpha is distracted along with many guards—why does he not just get it over with? Why does he have to kill others, as if there is an army before me? Does he savor the chase?

The house is quiet, not a creak or bump. I shrug off the robe and hang it back in its place before shutting the curtains. The door is closed, and I have a view of everything around me, not giving a chance to hidden crevices. I leave the light on, knowing that if I fall asleep, the beast will attack me. There is no place that I am safe besides my mate's arms, which is dangerous. I sit in the bed with my head in my hands, tempted to lay back and close my eyes. It is not worth the nightmares, especially if Sebastian is not here when I wake up sweating and pale. My eyes begin to burn from the bright, artificial light. I shield it away with my hands and peer to my lap. I hate the power he has over me, for I cannot sleep alone anymore, and he probably loves it.

Stupidly, I fall back against my pillow and stare up at the ceiling, self-sabotaging. "I will not fall asleep without Sebastian. I will stay awake and wait for him to come back. This man, he is making me depend on my mate," I say out loud to keep myself awake, "he is making me weaker. I used to venture around the forest alone without a care in the world, and now, I can't even sleep alone. I can't sit in a room for over five minutes and not look out all of the windows. He is turning me into my mother."

Arguing with myself is what I have come to.

It would be selfish to hope for Sebastian to hurry back. Am I in that dire need of him, enough to steal him away from a dead man?

I take a deep breath and close my eyes. My thoughts whirl around in my head like a carousel ride, and I am strapped to it. I spin with the chaos until suddenly the ride stops and I find myself slipping into a risky slumber.

The current of warm water beats repetitively on my back. My hair sticks to my neck like a heavy blanket, and the water travels through it then down my spine. The water has washed away any trace of tears and panic from my muted face.

My eyes watch my feet. My mind is cluttered with memories and images, none of them in the correct order. It was horrific. The beast has already killed me, and I stared as it tore apart my mate. He screamed, but I could not get to him, I was lying dead on the forest floor. He did not see me, but I watched as he begged for his life, I watched as he was refused. No matter how hard I convince myself that none of it was real, tears still drop and join the powerful rays rushing past me.

I did not know what to do, so I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the shower. It was like seeing a limb being cut from my own body, feeling each stab and slice as the blade works through my skin, muscle, and finally, hits bone. I hated it. I hated every second. His emerald eyes continue to haunt me as they plead for mercy.

My mind cannot seem to grasp that it did not happen, as everything felt dreadfully real. I lean against the shower wall and absently shut off the water, leaving myself cold. When I step out and change my clothes, I take a deep breath before returning to the bedroom. Mentally, I do not want to. It reminds me of the state I was in after waking.

"Evangeline?"

Sebastian is standing at the foot of the bed, and I inhale greatly. Sunlight pours through the windows, which it did not before. "Yes?"

"When did you wake up?" He asks and sits down on the bed, crinkling the covers.

"Um, around four, I wasn't very tired when I got back."

"Four o'clock?" Sebastian repeats. "We left at three."

"I came back, fell asleep for a bit and woke up at four."

He runs a hand through his beautiful hair. Seeing him makes the images leave my mind, freeing me from their temporary chains. "Haven't we been over this?"

"Over what?"

"The fact that you are a terrible liar."

I cross my arms. "Well, maybe you just excel and catching lies. It was a dream again. It couldn't go back to sleep afterward."

"I'm sorry, I didn't think when I told you to go back without me."

The concern in his eyes makes me curse myself. "You shouldn't have to."

He sighs. "You have to get more sleep. I'll stay with you—"

"No. You probably have a lot to do with what happened. I'll be fine. I'll distract myself."

* * *

Henry and I walk around outside, as he refuses to stay in and rest his ankle. He is the only bandaged one among us, for my head has healed to a point where a wrap is no longer needed. The grass is dry, and we travel through it on a random path to nowhere. Henry wanted to come outside and enjoy the last bit of fall before winter comes and coats the grass white with its harsh winds and ondings. Today, the weather is nice, not too cold, as if the sun has decided to shine one last time before night takes over.

I did not look out the window this morning. This morning I realized something. If this Alpha is going to come for me, there is no point in hiding. He has killed an innocent man, and I am sure he is willing to commit such a crime again. Staring paranoid out a window will not keep me anymore safer than I am outside. It is silly to believe that walls will keep the danger out. Danger always finds a way to creep in and attack from behind. When you are least expecting it—that is when.

I notice Henry studying my face.

"You look tired. Did you fight and sleep apart?"

I roll my eyes playfully, though I do not feel playful at all. I feel crummy, worn out, and irritable, like a child who has been kept awake for too long. "I didn't sleep well last night, that's all."

"I heard about what happened last night. I heard that you went along," he tells me, reminding my nostrils of the unforgettable smell. "Was that your first time seeing a dead person?"

"Yes. This may surprise you, but I haven't had the chance before," sarcasm drips from my voice. "You wanted to come out here only to walk? Not that you can do much anyway, but we're right beside the house."

"Sebastian asked me not to go on any adventures until I'm fully healed up."

Amused, I smile while watching his face. "And you listen to him?"

"Don't you?"

"Well, yes, but he is my mate. I know he only wants the best for me—and you, but you're brothers. How can you obediently follow?"

"He probably knows what's best, so I might as well listen. It would be hard to move around in the forest anyway, and if anything were to happen, I wouldn't be able to get away like I did last time," he admits, realizing the points behind his brother's orders. "He spends more time thinking, I spend more time doing."

"I might be in that boat with you."

"Oh, but you'll have to learn to think things over before you act upon them, you're the Alpha's Mate, the Luna," he brags as if he has gotten away scotch free.

"And you don't?"

"No, because I don't have any official title, hence no official authority. So I get to act right away."

I sigh and cross my arms jokingly. "Well, that's not fair, what if I want to act recklessly?"

"You can't. You're the Alphas Mate," he chants.

"If you weren't injured, I would push you over. I don't feel like leadership material. I'm not courageous, witty, charismatic, mindful, strategic—"

"Ruthless," Henry cuts in.

"Yes, I'm not ruthless."

"Does it bother you that Sebastian is?"

I stop walking and glance up at Henry. His eyes are gazing somewhere else. "He does what he has to do, what he feels is necessary."

Henry looks back at me. "People change each other."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"It's just a thought."

We turn around and head back towards the house. The temperature for the day has reached its peak, and soon it will come tumbling down in preparation for the night. The leaves on the trees are blown about, sending a whooshing sound whispering through the air.

"What will happen to the body—what do they do with it?" I ask him.

"They might bury him if he has no family. If he does, the family will decide."

"I hope he has a family."

"Me too."

The house draws closer until I find myself climbing up the steps and entering with Henry at my side. Marina is in the kitchen, preparing for dinner, and I sit and watch her from the counter, never looking out the window once. Henry chats, casually as I lean back and observe.

I could have been that man last night, cold and alone with no family to bicker over what to do with my body. No sobbing and uncontrollable emotions surging through them as I lay empty. If I stayed with grandmother, would I have died alone? What if there was never a pull convincing me to cross the stream, what if my grandmother passed and left me to perish slowly until an abrupt and final end? I am hoping that the man did not feel this way. I am hoping that he was surrounded by friends if not family before the attack.

It is always easy to convince yourself that the positive option is the truth, but it is easier to believe that he did indeed die entirely alone. It is even easier to trust that I would have to.