Connection - Golden Lycans Sequel 3/3 [in progress]

A Shift

***Ophelia***

I hear the rain before I even open my eyes—soft and steady, tapping against the glass like it's trying to soothe me. For a moment, I let it. I burrow deeper beneath the duvet, clutching at warmth, pretending the world outside doesn’t exist. But the sound doesn't comfort me.

Not really.

It feels like an echo of something else—of what changed inside me last night.

I had NOT seen it coming.

It crept in quietly, like mist rolling in beneath a door—and now it’s everywhere.

I sit up and peer through the window. The world beyond is blurred, washed grey—buildings and trees smeared behind rain-streaked glass. The sky is low and heavy, the colour of unspoken things.

December has arrived, and it looks exactly as I feel.

Despite the size of my room, the vast window that once felt freeing, makes me feel caged.

Stifled.

I need to get out.

I pull on my running gear and yank a cap over my head, knowing full well it’ll do nothing against the rain. My eyes flicker to the ridiculous faerie wings still lying on the floor where I left them.

I glare at them. As if it’s their fault.

Slipping out of my room, I hear voices from the kitchen. People are still here. I don't look. I don't want to see who it is, I don’t want to face anyone—not yet.

Especially not Ares.

My chest tightens just thinking about it. The mess from last night still clutters the space, half-drunk bottles and empty bowls.

I don’t stop. I just grab the front door and leave.

The rain greets me like an old friend.

Cold, sharp. Real.

I start jogging, letting it pelt against my face. I almost welcome it—maybe it’ll wash the confusion from me. Maybe it’ll drown out how I felt last night.

I hated how the wings had made me feel. It was like an unintentional mockery of my situation. A chronic wound, as Will had referred to it, opened up again in the most unexpected way.

How was I ever meant to heal?

Just when I could fool myself into thinking I really was leading a life entirely away from my woes, something snapped me right back.

I pick up speed, faster, harder, until I’m not thinking anymore. Just moving. I glance towards the basketball courts and veer off, drawn to the slick black tarmac, the echoing bounce of rain.

I stop. Barely out of breath. I push wet hair off my face and step onto the court. I open the equipment box and grab a ball, then begin shooting hoops—over and over, until I can’t tell what’s rain and what’s tears. They mix, streaking hot down my cheeks, my chest burning with things I can’t name.

At some point I stop aiming, starting to hurl the ball at the chain-link fence, again and again, the metal rattling like it’s screaming back at me.

“I thought I might find you here.”

I freeze. That voice. My mother.

I turn slowly. She stands soaked and radiant, her gorgeous wings stretched wide, hair plastered to her face. She’s like something pulled straight out of a storm—fierce, otherworldly, and impossibly beautiful.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, startled.

“There was a power cut,” she says, stepping closer, eyes flicking over me.

“We never lose power. Not here. But this storm—it wasn’t normal. The electricity… the intensity…” Her brow furrows. Her hands come to my shoulders.

“Ophelia. Are you alright?”

I laugh—short, dismissive.

“It was just a power cut, Mum. I’m fine.”

She studies me for a long moment. The rain is all I can hear.

“A power cut,” she says slowly, “that also drained every single battery. Caused by a highly localised, unusually charged thunderstorm. A storm that you created.”

I stare at her, her words ringing in my ears.

“What? No. That’s not—why would you even say that?”

But even as I protest, something slots into place.

I remember the thunder.

The precise moment it cracked over our heads.

My hand flies to my mouth.

“It started over the student village,” she continues, brushing hair from my face, "and it ended there. Natural storms don’t work like that. I’d know. I’ve made a few of my own. So tell me, Ophelia—what happened?”

I can’t speak. I can’t even think. It doesn’t make sense.

Her eyes widen.

“Were you attacked again?”

“No—no! Nothing like that. I’m fine. Physically, I mean.”

But she’s still watching me, waiting. And something inside me cracks a little further.

“I… I’m feeling a lot,” I say quietly, "but I don’t quite know what it is,” I exhale shakily, then blurt, “it was Maddy’s birthday. We played spin the bottle. I know—it’s dumb—but she kissed him. And now...I don’t know how I feel.”

There.

It’s out.

And it feels just as messy as it did inside my head.

Relief floods her face. She pulls me into her arms, holding me close, kissing my rain-wet hair.

“In the kindest way,” she murmurs, “I’m glad it was nothing concerning.”

She steps back, smiling gently.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shake my head. I don’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But she looks… pleased?

“Ophelia,” she says, pride lacing her voice, “you started a thunderstorm. Like any faerie would, when they’re very upset and overwhelmed. May I check?”

I nod, heart thudding. A flicker of hope stirs.

She studies me, long and hard. But then her brow furrows again, and she shakes her head.

“I don’t understand,” she mutters, "how can you still have no light?”

I swallow, hope faltering.

“Maybe it was just a fluke. A freak weather thing?”

“No,” she says firmly, "no, it was you. I’m sure of it. I just… I think you’ll understand why I know that, eventually.”

“Cryptic,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.

She smiles, cupping my face.

“Some things we have to figure out for ourselves,” Then she steps back, “I need to go. I’ll see you at Christmas.”

I nod.

She takes off into the sky, vanishing like she was never there at all. I stand alone on the court, rain soaking into my bones for the next few minutes, as her words churn in my head.

And then I turn—and stop.

My breath catches.

Ares is standing at the edge of the court.

...

***Ares***

Stepping out of my bedroom, I’m met with the aftermath of the night before—total c*****e.

We’d lost power late, and with nothing else to do, we’d all gone to bed, leaving the mess untouched. Bottles, cans, plates, and glitter—all of it still here.

“Whoa. Lots of cleaning to do today,” Ash says from behind me, emerging from his room at the same time. I make a noise of agreement and stride forward, grabbing the recycling bin from beside the breakfast bar. I sweep all the empty cans into it with one motion of my arm.

“Nifty,” Ash comments, "now there’s room, maybe I’ll cook breakfast before we start?”

He opens the fridge and pulls out his usual carton of eggs, "wonder how the girls are feeling?”

I glance at the closed doors, an unexpected wave of nerves tightening in my stomach. I don’t know why I feel anxious at the thought of either of them walking out.

“Who knows,” I mumble, eyes lingering on Lia’s door.

“Three eggs for you?” Ash calls, cracking the first one into the pan, "you definitely need some protein after that substantial tongue workout you had last night.”

I turn to look at him slowly, saying nothing.

“I mean… do you like her?” he adds, voice quieter now.

I frown.

“Madeleine?” I ask, baffled.

Ash nods.

“You looked pretty into it, from where I was sitting. If you weren’t, you’ve missed your calling as an actor. It looked like you wanted her.”

I shake my head, the implication finally sinking in.

“N-no...I just wanted to get it over with,” I admit, voice low, "now I’ve done it, I can stop feeling embarrassed about not having kissed anyone.”

Ash gives me a soft, knowing look and shakes his head.

“You never needed to feel embarrassed, Ares. She’s been kind of a d**k about it, and you had nothing to prove. You should’ve waited until it was someone you actually cared about. Not… Maddy.”

I nod faintly, staring down at the countertop.

He’s right.

I’m starting to wish I hadn’t had any alcohol at all.

Maybe it clouded my judgement more than I realised.

“Well… it’s done now,” I sigh.

“That storm was insane, though,” Ash says, thankfully changing the subject, |"did you know one was forecast?”

“It wasn’t,” I reply.

Before either of us can say more, one of the bedroom doors opens. Lia rushes out, already dressed in her jogging clothes—though oddly, she’s wearing a baseball cap. She doesn’t say a word as she beelines for the front door and slips outside into the rain.

“That was weird,” Ash remarks, watching the door close behind her.

“Very. She never runs in the rain,” I say, gesturing up at the droplets tapping the skylight.

“Oh, I meant that she didn’t say anything. She always says good morning. Something’s off,” he says, frowning now.

“She seemed really unhappy last night,” I agree, feeling a heaviness settle in my chest, "I don’t think she enjoyed the party. The outfit Madeleine made her wear upset her—I could tell.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” Ash replies darkly, just as Maddy’s door creaks open.

She steps out, a dishevelled version of herself. Her hair’s a mess, her eyeliner smudged, and she’s shielding her eyes from the overhead lights like they’re daggers.

“There she is. Someone enjoyed their birthday a little too much,” Ash teases as she shuffles to the barstool beside me.

“Ughhh. Nineteen feels putrid,” she groans, sliding gingerly onto the stool. I grab a glass from the cupboard, and fill it with water, placing it in front of her.

I keep watching her, unsure.

Did I 'want her', like Ash said? Did I want to kiss her agian?

I don’t think so.

No.

But I do remember pulling her in. I rub my face hard, trying to shake the fog from my mind. What was it she said before she kissed me?

“Thanks, Ares,” she mutters, not meeting my eyes as she takes a sip. She looks pale. Uncomfortable.

Ash eyes her curiously.

“Er… you want some breakfast, Mads?”

“No, no thank you.” She shakes her head slightly, shrinking into herself. She looks awful, honestly. It’s a reminder why I should keep away from alcohol.

The rain begins to hammer harder against the skylight. My thoughts drift to Lia again. Last night, when she leaned against me—I could feel her sadness. Not see it. Feel it. I want to understand what’s hurting her. I want to make it better. When she’s smiling, I feel like the sun’s out. And right now, it’s pouring.

I look down from the skylight and find Madeleine watching me. As soon as our eyes meet, she looks away and pushes her glass across the counter.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

The word surprises me. Madeleine rarely apologises.

“For?” I ask.

“Kissing you. It was selfish. I shouldn’t have done it.”

I hesitate, unsure how to respond.

“Madeleine… there’s nothing to apologise for. It was a game. I just wish I could remember what you said to me before it happened.”

A flicker of a smirk crosses her face. Her eyebrows lift ever so slightly.

“Well, it worked,” she says with a wink—then winces, visibly regretting the motion, "I should shower.”

She slips off the stool and disappears back into her room.

Ash and I exchange a look.

One of those looks that says everything without saying a word.

“Women,” he mutters, chuckling.

..After I finish washing my plate, I step out onto the balcony. The wind slices through the doorway the moment I open it, biting cold against my skin.

Despite the season, Lia’s plants are thriving. One of them has even begun winding up the pergola, determined and green against the grey. She cares for them often, so I shouldn’t be surprised. Still, I find myself staring, quietly impressed. Maybe I know less than I thought about how things grow.

I lean against the railing, eyes sweeping over the campus. The rain has soaked everything, and the thick clouds overhead smother any hint of sunlight. The air feels dense with static—sharp and expectant, like the storm hasn’t quite left.

The rain begins again, harder this time, drumming against the rooftop. I step back inside, already moving towards the front door as I pull on my shoes.

“Whoa, where are you going?” Ash straightens with the dustpan still in his hand, "it’s miserable out there.”

“Lia’s out there,” I reply, already tying my laces, "she’s not okay. I think she might need a friend.”

I exit the building into the driving rain, walking as rapidly as I could without attracting obvious attention from the people in the buildings around me.

I instinctively know exactly where she is, and I make my way straight to the basketball courts.

I slow down as I approach, seeing her standing very still in the centre of the court, clutching one of the basketballs in her hands.

I halt myself, for the scent of her, somehow stronger than ever before, has suddenly hit my nose.

It is tantalising, so inviting and for the first time I feel a hunger burning down the length of my throat. The instinctual need to taste what flows around her body is very overwhelming.

Perhaps I should have stayed at the flat.

Something was starting to feel very wrong with me.

I should NOT feel like this; no natural born had the craving for blood—Any blood.

Yet here I was, fighting against an urge I was wholly unprepared to experience. An urge that makes me want to hurt my friend and take something from her, something meant only for her.

I need to turn back and seek advice from my father.

Indeed, I am about to, except she has turned around and stopped in her tracks, having noticed me at the entrance to the court.

There’s something in her expression I’ve never seen before. Something intense, something heavy, something unspoken which roots me to the spot.

She is soaked through, and has since abandoned the baseball cap, her blonde hair as wet as if she had just stepped out of the shower, her white t-shirt clinging to her feminine form.

She is so striking right now, with the way she is standing there, with the fierce look that is on her face as she stares back at me.

She looks untouchable.

And yet... she’s the same Lia. The girl who waters her plants with quiet care, who laughs heartily at the jokes I have begun to make, who touches my arm when she wants me to really hear what she’s saying. She’s the girl who sees people. Who saw me, even when I wasn’t sure there was anything worth seeing.

She isn’t a warrior—not in the way the word is usually meant. But there’s something stronger than that in her. She is brave in quiet ways. Steady. Kind, without needing anyone to see it.

She is the brightest thing in this grey, rain-drenched world.

I swallow hard, forcing the craving back down, pushing it into the pit of myself where it can’t touch her. My boots squelch against the court as I step forward. My soaked jeans drag heavily against my legs, but I barely notice them. My eyes are locked on her.

There’s a flicker in her aura—shimmering gold now streaked with darts of brilliant red. It pulses, flashes, alive. Is she angry? No—this isn’t the deep burgundy I saw when she was furious at Madeleine. This is something else. Intense. Electric. Like her whole soul is raw.

Her gaze travels over me, quick and searching. I feel the heat of it in my chest. My hearing sharpens, snapping into unnatural clarity.

I can hear her heart. It’s thundering.

I can hear the blood rushing in her veins, like a river trying to escape.

And the craving returns, sharp and unrelenting.

A pang of sorrow cuts through it. Because I realise, all over again, that if I lose control—if I give in to this hunger—I could hurt her. I could destroy something I never meant to touch.

"What are you doing out here, Ares?" she asks me as I stop just a few metres from her, "you are soaked through!"

Lia looks as if she has just climbed out of a swimming pool, so this is rich coming from her. I step a little closer, for perhaps...if I allow myself to get used to this craving, I might be able to deal with it better? More exposure might help...perhaps?

I wasn't sure.

But, even though I am a potential danger to her... I don't want to go, I don't want to leave her. I do not want to have to stay away from her. She had quickly become so important to me and I enjoyed being around her every day. Everything felt sunnier, warmer; life was just...better, ever since I met her.

So...I continue walking forwards toward her.

"You did not seem yourself, last night. The whole evening something was bothering you. This morning you left without saying a word, which is not like you. What is going on, Lia? I want to help you!" I say loudly through the rain, as I approach her. I do not think I could ever describe the way her blood smells with words, but I want nothing more right now, than to sink my fangs into the soft skin of her neck.

Her blood smells so rich, so inviting, and as Atticus so aptly described...it was so full of some sort of promise...

I swallow hard, making a discernible mental effort to push the craving deeper down within me once again, as I step closer to her. She says nothing; she just continues to stare at me.

"I knew I would find you here," I continue, now only a metre from her.

Her eyes are still traveling all over me rather quickly before she firmly meets my gaze, the new streaks of red becoming more apparent in the swirling cloud of colours before me.

"I'm okay, Ares. I just...," she falters, looking all over me once again before she firmly shuts her eyes for a moment, "I am dealing with something quite personal, and I just really needed to get out of the flat."

I laugh, gesturing around us to the heavy rain.

"Into the rain, though? Lia, you HATE the rain," I point out in amusement.

She looks surprised for a moment before a smile spreads across her face, as if she has only just realised that.

"But...I don't mind the rain, right now," she comments, smiling even more, bizarrely, "it's not even cold...I...it just feels so...natural, now, you know? I mean...its only rain!"

As she stares back at me with her heart beating faster with a strange excitement, what she just said strikes a chord with me, too.

I know what she means, right now, because I feel the same way.

Out here in the rain, it's like we are back in the butterfly enclosure, surrounded by something so natural, the part of me that wasn’t vampire, had felt almost in reach.

I don't mind feeling the cold, nor the rain, as it's simply part of the beautiful and connected world around me.

"I DO know," I tell her assuredly, excitement in my chest.

She laughs a little, smiling up at me, her eyes bright and happy.

I feel the now familiar swoop in my chest, the same feeling that I get whenever she smiles at me like this. I cannot help but smile back, feeling a surge of delight within me.

Before I can consider this new and wonderful feeling in my chest, the rain slows to an abrupt stop.

She stares up at the moody sky, her confused expression returning as she scans the sky above, searching for an explanation as to why it has suddenly stopped.

“Absurdly good timing,” I say lightly, grateful that the worst of the craving seems to have passed—for now. “Now, how about you give me that ball?”

She smirks instead, then dribbles it away from me without a word.

I chase her.

Just like that, we slip into something familiar—something that feels safe. The rhythm we’ve had since the first week of term. The ball skimming across wet tarmac. The echo of her laughter. The soft thud of trainers against the court.

She spins away from me, flicks the ball up, and scores a tricky shot with effortless grace. She turns, grinning at me, eyes bright with triumph.

The storm has lifted from her, just as it has from the sky.

The clouds have parted now, letting sunlight break through in slow, golden shafts. It warms my skin in a way that feels too gentle for the thoughts racing inside me. She’s laughing again, lighter than I’ve seen her in days—and I should be relieved. I am relieved.

But I also feel... unsteady.

My eyes keep finding her face. That smile. That brightness. It makes something turn over inside me. Something I don’t have the words for. Something I’m not ready to name.

And beneath it—louder now that the rain has stopped—my instincts keep whispering. Insistent. Hungry.

For the first time in my life, I crave blood.

Not just anyone’s.

Hers.

And that thought—that truth—rattles through me like ice in my spine.

Because I care about her. Deeply. And that should mean she’s safe with me. That I would never hurt her.

But right now, with the sun on my skin and her laughter in the air—I don’t feel safe at all.

...

***Ophelia***

I have a large happy bubble in my chest as I walk back to the flat with Ares, after what felt like over an hour of playing on the court.

The low-lying winter sun had emerged, highlighting the rain drops on the vast foliage across the campus as we slowly walk along the path.

I couldn't escape it, particularly now.

Seeing him standing there at the entrance to the court, his clothes soaked through, I felt something shift inside me. A shift I certainly hadn't expected when I had first gotten to know Ares. The memory of how it had felt to watch him and Maddy kiss, had returned in full force. It had been the first time I had properly looked at him since they had...and everything was different; as the tall young man who stood at the entrance to the court, wasn't the same one that I had known before yesterday...not really.

I couldn't escape that the sight of his wet clothes clinging to his masculine frame, was now rather pleasing to my eye, how his previously handsome face was now a different kind of handsome.

I couldn't escape how him and Maddy kissing had drawn back the curtains to reveal what had been building in the background, completely unbeknownst to me.

I glance sideways at him as we walk, taking in his warm olive skin, the length of his lashes, his almost unfairly perfect nose, and the shape of his lips. He casually runs a hand through his damp hair—he is actually model levels of attractive—and I quickly drop my eyes to the path again, feeling completely thrown.

What the f**k had happened?

How had I not seen him this way, long before now?

Everything feels suddenly different. He was sweet—so sweet. But also wildly intelligent, steady, thoughtful, quietly strong. He was caring. He was true. And on that court, time and time again, he made me forget my own troubles—made me feel lighter.

Somehow, without me noticing, Ares had taken up residence in my heart. And roots—undeniably—were beginning to grow. Seeing him smile at me the way he had on that court filled me with something bright and extraordinary. The rain had stopped in that moment. The sun had broken through. And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t a coincidence.

Were my long-dormant Fae traits finally beginning to stir?

Had I really caused the thunderstorm?

I feel light... but nervous. Confused... but happy.

My thoughts are a mess, spinning too fast. They cling to small things, like the way he holds the door open for me—something he’s always done, but now it feels like...possibly more?

My heart thuds, at the mere possibility...

I can’t stop the next thought from rising, sharp and certain as I walk through the door:

How did Ares feel about me?

...

***Austin***

It’s eleven in the morning—well over fourteen hours since she vanished—when Ella finally returns home.

It’s Sunday, so family day at the pack, and for once, I’m letting myself have a slow morning.

“I’ll make you a coffee,” I say as she walks in through the patio doors, having just landed in the garden like the dramatic creature she is, "food?”

“No thanks. Just a comforting drink would be nice, after spending hours worrying about Ophelia,” she sighs, dropping onto a stool at the breakfast bar. I flip the machine on.

“And?” I prompt, wanting the update on my heir. Ella runs a hand through her wind-tangled hair and gives a wry smile.

“Well... the storm was insane. Huge electrical charge. I’ve never seen anything like it—definitely not natural. It had to be from her. Took me ages to neutralise the field. I only managed to sort it once I could sense she’d finally fallen asleep. Got the batteries back online, set everything right... and then I waited.”

“Waited?” I frown.

“In a tree,” she adds casually, like this is a normal sentence. “I knew she’d come out eventually. You don’t generate a storm like that and then stay cooped up inside. Sure enough, she went jogging in the rain. I caught her on the basketball court. Absolutely drenched.”

“Oh, damn, I should’ve gone. It’s been ages since we played. Few rounds with her old man might’ve lifted her mood,” I say, pressing the latte button.

“She’s fine. It wasn’t anything dangerous,” Ella replies—but her tone says there's more.

“Go on…” I prod, already bracing for whatever she’s about to drop.

“Ophelia caused a violent lightning storm because her housemate Madeleine kissed him at a party last night,” she says, stirring her spoon like it’s no big deal.

I lean back. “What? That entire storm was over a kiss?”

Ella nods, giving me that particular look—the one that means I’ve missed something painfully obvious.

“Where does a faerie get her power, Aus?”

“It’s linked to love. To love, and to be loved,” I reply slowly. Then it hits me, "ohhh. So you think she’s finally showing Fae traits—like affecting the weather—because she’s got a crush? On the guy her roommate kissed?”

“Exactly. Her aura was chaos. Complete emotional meltdown—but all of it romantic.”

“So… she’s just a regular hormonal young adult. Like every other kid in the pack. Okay. Got it.” I pause, thinking, "has to be Ash. Makes sense, right? She said he gave her brother vibes early on, but that can shift. She does find him physically attractive... I think.”

“Maybe,” Ella muses, c*****g her head, "she does live in a block with two Lycans, but she doesn’t talk about them much. Aside from a roast dinner once a month, I don’t think she socialises with the others.”

A terrible thought hits me. I pale.

“It couldn’t be Augustus’ kid, could it? He and Ash switched seats for that lecture...”

Ella lets out a breathy laugh and waves a dismissive hand at the mere suggestion of it.

“Gosh, no. Relax. It’s definitely not Ares. No way!”