Their Forgotten Luna

A Wolf's Whispers

Cierra:

Morning came far too quickly, with the sounds of booted feet and the smell of coffee.

“Cierra, wake up. We have training.”

The feeling of Dom’s rough hand sliding up my arm had me snuggling deeper into the thick covers with a hum.

“Come on, beautiful.” I stretched like a dog in heat at the sleep-soaked sound of his voice, deep and sweet.

“I got your clothes from your house yesterday, they’re all in the closet waiting for you, grab something and meet me downstairs in ten, okay?”

I only nodded, knowing I would likely not get up at all.

“Oh, by the way, Ci… There are bear claws downstairs.”

I sat up, glaring at him with a scowl. “Why would you use those against me?” I growled, rolling out of the bed with a huff as the sounds of his dark laughter coated my skin in its sweetness.

A sports bra, leggings, a pair of sneakers, and two bear claws later, I was standing inside the training circle staring into the most beautiful honey-brown eyes I had ever seen.

“Now, the doctor thinks if we stick to your routine, your memories will return quicker,” Dom said, quirking an eyebrow at my shocked expression.

“I get up at three?! What the hell is wrong with me?” I shrieked, earning a laugh so perfectly tuned to my heart that it made me want to do whatever it took to hear it again.

He stepped into the circle with me, his gaze all business now. “Fists up. Higher.”

I did as he told me, though awkwardly at first. He shook his head, moving behind me. His hands wrapped around my wrists, guiding them upward, reshaping my stance. “Not stiff. Loosen up here. You’re not a statue, Ci. You’re a fighter.”

My breath hitched, but I obeyed, moving into the position he set me in. I couldn’t tap back into whatever part of me that had come back yesterday during that training class when I knew all of this.

“Good. Now strike.”

I threw a punch. He caught it easily in his palm. Heat curled through me, frustration sparking hot and sharp.

“Again,” he ordered.

Over and over, I struck. My arms burned, sweat gathered at my hairline, and my chest rose and fell with the effort. Each time I stumbled, he was there—boot nudging my feet wider, fingers pressing into my lower back to straighten my spine, a firm grip curling around my wrist before I twisted it wrong.

“Don’t look at me,” he murmured, circling me like a predator teaching his prey to bare its teeth. “Look through me. See your target. Trust the line of power in your body.”

I tried. Gods, I tried. Then finally, something clicked. My fist cut sharper, my weight landed clean, and Dom’s grin of pride stole the breath right out of me.

“Yes,” he praised softly, moving close again. His chest brushed mine as he adjusted my shoulders. His hand pressed into my waist, the other sliding to brace my hip. Too close, the smell of him, so rough yet sweet, was far too much. But I didn’t pull away.

“Trust in yourself,” he whispered. “Trust in me.”

I struck again, again, falling into the rhythm of him. The world narrowed to his voice, his hands, the steady devotion that never wavered. For the first time, I leaned into it—into him—and felt the faint, fragile stir of trust rising inside me.

And yet, beneath it, something else coiled. A prickle at the back of my neck, cold as ice. As if we weren’t alone. As if unseen eyes followed every move we made. I tried to shake it off, focusing only on the strength in Dominic’s presence.

Then I faltered, my footing sliding, and I pitched forward. His arms caught me instantly—one bracing the small of my back, the other curling firm around my thigh just above the knee. His chest pressed flush to mine, his breath warm at my temple.

“Easy,” he whispered, steadying me. “I’ve got you.”

The words anchored me more than his hold did, and for one fleeting heartbeat, I believed him.

Until the growl shattered the air.

“Get your damn hands off her!”

I jerked, my pulse stuttering, and twisted toward the voice. Dane stood just beyond the circle, fury carved into every line of his face. His chest rose and fell like he’d run a mile, his eyes glowing dangerously as they flickered between his wolf and man.

Dom didn’t move, his hands still on me, unbothered by the storm rolling in.

“Dane—” Dom began, his tone low, measured.

But Dane wasn’t listening. His gaze locked on Dom’s hand, still half-resting against my waist, possessive rage igniting in his expression.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, touching her like that?” Dane snarled, stepping forward.

My heart thrashed in my chest, caught between the safe harbor of Dominic’s steady presence and the storm erupting in Dane’s.

“Easy, Dane. She stumbled, and I caught her. That’s all. If your wolf can’t handle that, maybe you should step out of the circle.”

The words landed like a spark on dry kindling.

Dane’s snarl ripped through the air, sharp enough to raise the hair on my arms. His chest heaved, his fists clenching so tightly his knuckles went bone white. “Step out of the circle? You think you get to stand there with your hands all over her and tell me to walk away?” His voice cracked, too close to his wolf, too full of rage.

Dom tilted his head, unruffled, like Dane’s fury was nothing but a summer storm. “You saw what happened. She slipped. I caught her.”

“Caught her?” Dane barked, stalking closer, his eyes burning gold now. “That’s what you call it? She’s not yours to touch, Dominic. Not now, not ever.”

Heat flared in my chest, the words cutting sharper than either of them seemed to realize. I shoved against Dom’s chest—not because I wanted him to move, but because I needed my hands free when I rounded on Dane.

“Excuse me?” My voice shook the way the ground did before a quake, sharp and dangerous. Dane froze, his anger still a storm rolling in his eyes, but I didn’t let him speak.

“You don’t get to tell him—or anyone—what they can or can’t do with me. You don’t get a say in who touches me, who trains me, who looks at me. That’s my choice. Mine.” My voice rose until it was nearly a shout, every syllable fueled by the fire clawing up my throat. “So don’t stand there acting like you own me, because you don’t!”

Dane blinked, stunned, like I’d struck him harder than any fist could. His mouth opened, then closed, his jaw tight enough to crack. The fury didn’t leave him, but something else bled through now—hurt, raw, and open.

Dom’s hand brushed lightly against my back, steadying me, grounding me without claiming. “You heard her,” he said, softer now but edged with iron. “This is her choice. Not yours.”

For a long, breathless moment, the three of us stood locked in that circle—the storm, the anchor, and me, burning between them.