Chapter 24: Mating(1)
Raven’s POV
The day went better than I could have ever imagined—better than anything I had allowed myself to hope for. In truth, I had woken with a quiet dread coiled in my chest, expecting cold stares, whispered judgments, or worse, complete indifference. Instead, after the communal breakfast, I found myself welcomed—gently, almost cautiously—by the laundry team.
They were all women. That alone startled me more than anything else.
For the briefest of moments, a thought slipped into my mind so unexpected that it nearly made me falter where I stood: I could have friends.
The idea felt fragile, like spun glass—too delicate to hold for long without shattering. Yet it filled me with a strange, buoyant warmth. Friends. People to speak with, to laugh beside, to share whispered gossip with as the day stretched on. I had seen Lilian do it countless times—effortless laughter, easy companionship—and I had always watched from a distance, never once believing such a thing could belong to me.
And yet here they were.
They spoke to me kindly, their voices soft, their expressions open. They told me which days they worked, what tasks were expected, and how things were done within the pack. Loel, with her steady presence and warm smile, offered to personally guide me through everything.
I had nodded more times than I could count, afraid that if I spoke too much, the moment might dissolve.
Still, not everything about them was light. It was impossible not to notice the grief.
Loel was not the only one who had lost someone. There were others—women whose eyes lingered too long on nothing, whose smiles trembled at the edges. Husbands. Sons. Brothers. Loss clung to them like a shadow that refused to fade.
They smiled, yes—but the sorrow beneath it was unmistakable. It made something tighten painfully in my chest.
Loel led me along the path to the river, showing me where we would wash, how to carry the baskets, where the currents were strongest. The route itself was not particularly long, but by the time we turned back toward the settlement, the sun had climbed high enough to press its heat against my skin like a heavy hand.
Sweat clung to me, dampening my clothes, and my breaths came shallow and uneven.
"Are you okay?" Loel asked, her voice laced with concern as she slowed her pace to match mine.
"Great!" I replied quickly, straightening my posture despite the way my chest burned. Practice made perfect. Even as I said it, I knew the truth.
The weakness, the exhaustion—it wasn’t surprising. I had spent most of my life indoors, sheltered to the point of suffocation. While my siblings ran wild beneath open skies, I had remained behind walls, my mother’s warnings echoing endlessly in my ears.
The forest is dangerous. The world is cruel. Stay inside. There had been days when she had locked me in entirely. Sometimes, in my darker moments, I had wished she had followed my father into death.
But she hadn’t.
"I just need to catch my breath," I admitted after a moment, my voice softer now.
We stood near the edge of the forest, where the trees thinned just enough to reveal the expanse beyond. My gaze drifted over the pack—the merged territory of two once-separate groups. It was larger than anything I had known before, sprawling in a way that felt both impressive and overwhelming.
"Do you think we are safe here?" I asked quietly. The question lingered heavier than I intended.
I could not stop the thought from forming—the image of the Moonburn Alpha, relentless and unforgiving, searching for his son. The last I had heard, the boy still lived.
"Of course," Loel answered without hesitation, her tone firm with certainty. "As safe as safe can be."
She gestured toward the river, its waters rushing with force.
"To reach us, they’d need ships on one side. The river blocks the other, and no one crosses that easily—not with currents like those."
I nodded slowly, though unease still stirred within me.
A thought crept in—one I could not ignore. I had told myself I would endure, that I would accept whatever punishment came as penance. But if it became unbearable... how could I leave.
The idea of bearing children only for them to be used—twisted into something unnatural through rituals meant to grant power—made my stomach churn. The very thought felt like a violation, not just of my body, but of something sacred.
The goddess would not forgive such a thing. Yet refusal was not an option. Rex could compel me. After breaking the moon oath, I had forfeited the right to choose. The truth settled over me with suffocating weight.
I was trapped.
"Hey, Raven!"
Loel’s voice snapped through my thoughts, sharper this time.
I blinked, realizing I had gone still.
"Are you okay? You suddenly looked completely lost."
I lowered my head quickly, forcing a small smile onto my lips.
"I’m okay," I said.
And this time, I made sure the smile reached my eyes.
Because despite everything—despite the fear, the uncertainty—standing here, with someone who looked at me with genuine concern... it felt like light breaking through darkness.
"I’m okay," I repeated, stepping a little closer.
Loel chuckled softly, leaning toward me.
"On the first laundry day, I’ll introduce you to Xarna," she said. "She’s a good friend of mine. I think you’ll like her."
I nodded eagerly.
Two friends.
The thought made something inside me lift.
With a newfound lightness in my step, I made my way back toward my sleeping quarters, while Loel headed in the opposite direction. We promised to meet again later—at lunch, or perhaps dinner.
For once, I looked forward to it.
But the moment I approached my door, that fragile happiness shattered.
Rex stood there.
Even before I reached him, I could feel it—the oppressive weight of his anger pressing against the air itself. It coiled around him like a living thing, suffocating and inescapable.
"You seem to be happy," he said.
His voice was cold enough to freeze whatever warmth remained within me.
Instantly, I lowered my gaze to the ground.
I said nothing.
I knew better.
Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. I dared to hope—briefly—that he might leave without another word.
But hope had never been kind to me.
"I spoke to Gessia," he continued, his tone measured. "She sees no reason to delay. It may take time for you to conceive."
My breath caught.
I knew exactly what he meant.
My gaze fixed harder on the ground, as though I could disappear into it.
"We’ll start tomorrow evening," he said. "You’ll come to the Alpha’s building."
A command.
Not even softened by pretense.
For a fleeting moment, I wished he had compelled me outright. That he had forced obedience into my veins so I would not have to feel this dread—this crushing awareness of what awaited me.
But he hadn’t.
And that made it worse.
His footsteps receded, each one echoing in the silence he left behind.
I did not move until the sound faded completely.
Only then did I step inside.
For a long time, I sat on the bed, staring at the wall.
"It cannot be that bad... right?" I whispered.
The question felt hollow.
By the time I saw Loel again at communal dinner, the words were still pressing against my chest, desperate to be spoken.
"Have you..." I began, my voice faltering.
The question refused to come easily.
"Have you mated with anyone?"
Loel blinked at me, confusion flickering across her face.
"Sex?" she asked plainly.
I flushed at the ease with which she said it.
"Of course," she continued, as though it were the simplest thing in the world. "Even before my moon age. It was with someone I liked."
Her voice softened, touched with something distant.
"He liked me too."
There was grief there.
Subtle, but unmistakable.
"He didn’t make it, did he?" I thought, though I did not ask.
"It was very nice," she said after a moment. "Sex is very nice. It’s encouraged too—as long as you’re careful."
She leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice.
"And as long as he doesn’t spill his seed inside you. Though even then..."
I nodded, pretending understanding.
"Are you planning on it?" she asked, her tone light, almost teasing.
I hesitated.
"Yes," I admitted quietly.
Her expression brightened.
"Trust me," she said with a grin, "it’ll probably be the best experience of your life."
The certainty in her voice startled me.
"You’ll be begging for more," she added, laughing softly as she returned to her meal.
I stared down at my own food, her words echoing in my mind.
Best experience.
Begging for more.
Could that truly be the case?
Slowly, the tightness in my chest eased—just a little.
Perhaps it would not be as terrible as I feared.
Perhaps...
"It can’t be that bad, Raven," I murmured under my breath, pressing a hand lightly against my heart.
"It’s not that bad."
And with that fragile reassurance, I finally began to eat.
