Chapter Eighteen: Shattered Sparks

I grabbed Electra by the shoulders, halting her lips inches from mine, her warmth searing through my shirt. Her green eyes flickered—concern to sadness—as I shook my head. "I can't, Electra," I rasped, turning my back, taking shaky steps away. "We can't." A whimper slipped from her, soft and broken, and I mentally kicked myself, fists clenching.

It took everything—every damn ounce of will—not to spin around and claim her mouth. Her birthday was six days off, a full moon night where she'd find her mate, some wolf with alpha or beta blood drawn to her lineage like moths to a flame. If I gave in now, felt her against me, and she bonded with someone else, it'd rip me apart—again. Natalie's betrayal a year ago had left me hollow, and these months with Electra had stitched something back, fragile and terrifying. I couldn't survive another fracture.

Her boots scuffed the floor, and she stepped in front of me, heartbreak etched in her face—eyes glassy, lips trembling. "Why can't we? I don't understand," she pleaded, voice cracking.

"Because we're not meant to be," I said, throat tight. "You're gonna find your mate in a few days..." She cut me off, her hand cupping my cheek, warm and steady. Instinct pulled me into it, eyes shutting, her touch a lifeline I didn't deserve.

"Can't you feel it?" she whispered, and I opened my eyes, locked on hers—green, deep, searching. "There's something there. I know you feel it too." A half-smile flickered, hopeful.

I did—Moon Goddess help me, I did. A spark, faint but real, buzzing under my skin. It scared me shitless, more than rogue fights or Cade's wrath. I reached up, slow, and peeled her hand away, my chest constricting. "I can't, Electra," I said, sad and final, the words ash on my tongue.

Her gaze dropped to her feet, shoulders slumping. "I'll, uh... see you around, Kyan," she mumbled, power-walking to the door. It clicked shut behind her, her quiet sobs echoing in the hall, slicing me open.

I felt like a bastard, hands raking through my hair as I cursed—loud, raw, the sound bouncing off my dim room's walls. If she were anyone else—no consequences, no alpha blood—I'd have pinned her to the bed right then, rules be damned. But Electra wasn't a fling. My rules—no feelings, no sleepovers, no dates—worked with Shauna, Amelia, the others. They knew the score. Electra? She'd break them all, and I'd let her. I'd want her in my bed every night, under me, beside me, and I wouldn't stop. That's what gutted me.

I flopped onto my bed, the mattress creaking, and stared at the cracked ceiling, thoughts spinning. She was different—hope, connection, a pull I hadn't felt since before Natalie turned my heart to rubble. I groaned, rolling off, and hit the shower, ice-cold water blasting my skin, trying to drown her out. It didn't work.

I had to run, clear my head. I dodged her door—purple, taunting—sighing as I passed, and hit my usual oak tree by the forest edge. Clothes stripped, I shifted fast, dark grey fur rippling, and bolted. The breeze cut through me, dirt packed under my paws, pine and rabbit scent sharp in my nose—freedom, a balm to shove her wildflowers away. Hours blurred, the sun sinking, my stomach growling. No mood to hunt, I loped back, shifting mid-stride, dressing in the dusk's chill.

The dining hall buzzed—steak sizzling, voices low—as I grabbed a medium-rare slab and slumped next to Matt, his lean frame hunched over a plate. He eyed me, dark hair flopping, concern creasing his brow. "You alright?"

"I'm fine," I snapped, too quick, slicing into the meat, blood pooling on the plate.

Cade dropped across from us, broad shoulders filling the space. "Hey, Kyan, Matt," he said, nodding, his hazel eyes lighter since Blake but still sharp.

"Alpha," we chorused, forks clinking.

He rubbed his neck, tense. "You seen Electra? She's not answering her phone.

"We shook our heads. "Tried shifting and linking her? Maybe she's running," I suggested, voice flat.

"Yeah, I have—she's not answering," he sighed, head in his hands. "She's been off all week, and I don't know what's up."

Matt glanced up. "Maybe it's the full moon party? Her birthday's a big deal—finding her mate might be freaking her out."

Cade nodded, jaw tight. "If she does, I'll grill the bastard good."

Matt chuckled. "Yeah, if you can peel them apart." Cade growled, low and warning, and Matt shut up, smirking.

Each "mate" jab twisted my gut, unease coiling. I couldn't sit through this. Electra swept in, hair tousled, eyes red-rimmed, and Cade stood. "Speak of the devil," he muttered, heading her way. I flicked a glance—her cream sweater, her slump—then tore my eyes away, steak turning to sawdust in my mouth. I had to stay clear of her 'til her birthday. Barely managed it.

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The next six days dragged, a slow bleed. My thoughts of Electra didn't fade—they sharpened, cutting deeper. I stole glances—her in the hall, her sparring, her laughing with pack kids—each one a punch, her wildflower scent a ghost I couldn't shake. Cold showers became my ritual, water stinging my skin, but her face stayed burned in my skull. She kept her distance, a nod or faint smile here and there, but no words. It killed me, silent and slow, though I knew she was better off. Tonight, under the full moon, she'd likely find her mate.

Her alpha blood—daughter of our old alpha, Mr. Harris, sister to Cade—drew a crowd. Wolves with power in their veins, alpha and beta sons from Midnight to Pine Ridge, rolled in for the full moon party on our land. Mating her meant strength, alliances, a legacy—every pack wanted a piece. I watched from my window as cars crunched gravel, tents sprouted across the field, a bonfire piled high with logs, the air thick with pine and anticipation.

Electra had been whisked to the holding room at noon—custom for new eighteens. Locked away 'til just before midnight, no drinks, no distractions, keeping their senses clear for the mate bond. I holed up in my room, pacing the worn floorboards, 'til 10 p.m. rolled around. I dressed—dark jeans, black shirt, boots—and joined the chaos, the field alive with laughter, clinking bottles, and wolfsbane-laced bourbon wafting from the bar. Wolves sprawled by the fire, some already slurring, others quiet, waiting.

I claimed a log by the blaze, its heat licking my face, embers spiralling into the starry sky. No drinking tonight—a sliver of me hoped, stupidly, she might be mine, and I wanted my head clear. A familiar scent hit—leather and something new, sharper—and Shauna sat beside me, her hazel eyes soft, her smell shifted from mating with Dylan.

"Kyan," she said, smiling, her dark hair catching the firelight. "What's on your mind?"

"What'd you say to Electra at Blake's party?" I asked, voice low, dreading the answer.

She sighed, grinning. "I knew it—the way you looked at her. You're asking 'cause you feel something. I see it."

"What do you mean?" I pressed, brow furrowing.

"She was wondering why you're... you," she said, elbow on her knee, chin in her palm. "She saw you with me, other women, heard the rumours—your 'infidelity.' She didn't buy it."

I raised an eyebrow, pulse kicking.

"Don't worry, I didn't spill about Natalie," she said, rubbing my back. "Told her you'd share when you're ready. She was heading to you 'til Amelia jumped in—touching you. I swear, she looked ready to claw her eyes out."

I exhaled, hard. Would've rather had her storming over.

"She didn't get why I wasn't mad," Shauna went on. "I'd just found Dylan, and you and I—we had rules. Friends, no strings. I cared, but I respected your lines." She smiled, soft.

My head spun. Jealousy over Amelia, trying to figure me out—why? What did she see in a wreck like me? I wasn't good for her.

Dylan slid in, wrapping an arm around her—strong jaw, short brown hair, dark eyes steady. I shook his hand. "Good to see you," I said, nodding.

"You too," he replied, curt, pulling Shauna close. They cuddled, firelight dancing on them, and she turned back. "She's got strong feelings for you, Kyan. I saw it—when you looked at her, when Amelia touched you, she nearly lost it. It's okay to open your heart." She smiled, then they said goodbye, vanishing into the crowd.

Her words churned—every bump, every smile, that near-kiss in my room. I'd nearly lost control, wanting her so bad it hurt. She brought out a Kyan I'd buried—carefree, alive. Everything I'd want in a mate.

Cade's voice boomed from the stage—cedar planks, strung lights—snapping me out. "Tonight, we welcome ten new eighteens to find their mates under the full moon!" Cheers erupted, wolves howling. He called them up, one by one—nervous kids, alpha heirs, beta sons—nine shaking hands with the crowd, scents mingling.

I pushed toward the stage, heart hammering, as Electra stepped up last, her cream dress glowing, hair loose, green eyes scanning. Crude whistles rose from wolves beside me—"Look at that alpha blood," "Bet she's mine"—and I growled, low and lethal, shutting them up fast.

Her gaze found mine, a smile breaking—goddess, she was stunning, the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, firelight carving her soft and fierce. My skin blazed, each step to the stage igniting me—hairs prickling, tingles racing, a heat I couldn't name. I hit the line, shaking hands—clammy grips, blank stares—nine down, nothing sparking. Time crawled, seconds stretching, my chest tight.

I reached Electra, her eyes wide, breath shallow—mirroring me. This had to be it. I stretched my hand halfway, trembling; hers rose, slow, hesitant. We hovered, inches apart, the crowd fading, then she grabbed mine, firm and warm.

Nothing. No jolt, no bond—just skin on skin, empty.

Her face crumpled, sadness flooding those green depths, matching the crack in my chest. I'd been so sure—so damn sure. I bolted off the stage, boots thudding, ears ringing as someone—Matt? Cade?—shouted after me. I didn't stop, hitting the forest edge, shifting mid-run, clothes shredding, dark grey fur bursting free.

I ran, paws pounding, trees blurring, heart a vise. Legs burned, lungs ached, and I collapsed in a grassy hollow, whining, howling—raw, broken sounds tearing from me. She wasn't mine. I'd opened up, let her in, and it shattered me—same as Natalie, same damn knife. I'd sworn never again, and here I was, bleeding out in the dirt, a piece of me gone.