Summer Break. Why?

No matter how many times she tried to start her Maybach, it refused to cooperate with her. It was the third time this week and it was becoming immensely frustrating.

She had purchased the model at two hundred and fifty thousand warm dollar bills, to mark her twenty-first. And now, it was seeming like a bad investment.

Her battery percentage was barely surviving too, and the rain had flushed out any form of connectivity. Zero connectivity meant zero signal, and that meant...she couldn't order any Uber.

Fuck.

Before she could spin around, she collided chest-first into someone. The impact startled her, but then an umbrella snapped open above her head, shielding her from the worst of the rain.

Her amber eyes shot upward.

He stood like the storm had been made for him, rain dripping down his shoulders, his dark shirt clinging to a body that was all muscle and raw masculine appeal. His gaze found hers, black eyes with red rings burning faintly around the edges.

She had never seen red-ringed orbs before.

Was he a... it couldn't be.

A primordial?

"Hi," he said simply. His voice was deep, hoarse, yet subtly soft.

He kept a respectable distance between them.

"A storm is upon us," he murmured, like it was prophecy. "Everyone is advised to leave the grounds and come indoors."

Her heat hit her raw.

"Who... are you?"

He stepped out of the umbrella and handed it to her. The rain coating his body. Her eyes trailed to his abdominal muscles.

Damn.

"A member of the elders council."

"Oh," she stretched out one hand, using the other to tuck her phone into her pocket. "I'm Naelis, Naelis Hadrith. Blackwater pack."

He took her hand firmly, and just when she noticed how long and perfect his fingers were, he pulled back.

"Blackwater, you are a long way from home then."

She nodded,

"Yeah, I came to see-"

"My nephew?"

Her lips parted in surprise, and unexpectancy.

"Wait-what?"

The man's mouth curved, not a smile exactly, but something like he knew the punchline to a joke she hadn't caught yet.

"I might've caught word about you."

Heat burned her cheeks, not from her steam jacket, but from the fact that she was dripping wet, clinging to a stranger's umbrella like some fragile damsel.

She blinked hard.

She knew Silas had an uncle, but that was it, she didn't know anything else about him.

"How come I'm seeing you for the first time?."

"I only returned from the Citadel six months ago."

"The Citadel." Her eyes did a one-over on him, "You don't strike me as a devout man."

His lips pursed into a brief smile as he led her under the archway.

"Why?"

"Devote men don't....look like you do."

He closed the umbrella and likely shook it.

"No one needs to have a pot belly and large tunic before being devoted to the moon-goddess."

Naelis blinked, her wet hair plastered to her cheeks.

"I guess you are right. Maybe you could tell me more about your stay in the Citadel? Your name perhaps?"

He smiled again and she noticed his light dimples for the first time, his lips-

"Some other time, perhaps. For now, I have to get back to my pottery, Naelis Hadrith," he called out before turning around for a brief moment. "I will have someone skilled check on your car tomorrow."

That was it. And then he was gone in the blink of an eye.

Naelis let out a long exhale and leaned against the archway. The sound of hurried footsteps drew her attention.

Silas came barreling around the corner, his hair plastered to his forehead, he looked around, obviously searching for her.

"Over here," she called, waving at him.

He skidded to a stop in front of her

"There you are! I've been-" His words faltered as he saw her drenched state, the puddle of rainwater collecting at her boots.

"Are you still, do you still plan on going back home?" His voice was low, hopeful in the very least.

"No."

"Phew." Silas inhaled, "I'll make it up to you I swear, I'll do anything."

Her lips curved into a smirk as she crossed her arms in front of her chest, swimming in her thoughts.

"I met your uncle."

"Oh, outside?."

"Yeah."

"Okay, cool."

"I want him."

Silas blinked like she had just declared war.

"You.....what?"

"I said," Naelis's smirk deepened, "I want your uncle."

His jaw slackened. "You just met him, Nae."

"Yeah," she shrugged, her amber eyes flickering mischievously. "And that was enough."

Silas dragged a hand down his face. "Gods above, do you even hear yourself? He is...he's not into women."

Her brows shot up. "Wait. You mean he is batting for the other team?"

"No!" Silas threw his hands up, almost shouting. "No. He's just, he doesn't....do that. With anyone."

Naelis tilted her head, her curiosity was sparking hotter at this point. "Doesn't do what?"

"He is a celibacy practitioner," Silas muttered. "Dad says he took a vow. A lifelong one. He has dedicated himself to the Citadel teachings. Zero intimacy, zero indulgence, zero..." he waved vaguely, "everything."

Naelis's mouth parted in a small "oh." But her lips quickly pulled into a smirk.

"So basically... he is a tough nut."

Silas groaned loudly, tilting his head back like the ceiling could give him patience. "More like a locked vault. You'd need the moon goddess herself to sign off before you even-"

"Challenge accepted," She cut in.

Silas whipped his head toward her, scandalized.

"Do you even know his name?"

Naelis's smirk faltered, just for a heartbeat. Then it curved back again. "He didn't tell me, yet. But Names are just doors. I am more interested in the man behind them."

Silas's eyes narrowed, studying her like she had grown horns. "It's Zoran," he said. "Zoran Veyr."

The name rolled off her tongue smoothly.

Zoran. It felt ancient, and intoxicating.

She whispered it under her breath, tasting the syllables like forbidden wine. "Zoran..."

"Nae. No. Don't even think about it."

She shrugged, uncrossing her arms. "What? I like complicated things. And I like impossible. Besides," she added slyly, "He is a fine specimen of a man, haven't you seen his eyes? His build? Why is he not your father's Beta or something? Why a pack elder?."

Silas crossed his arms.

"Of course he is otherworldly, primordials are built like that. Secondly, I don't know if you've noticed, he is a bit traditional... old fashioned. He believes that he would impact the pack best as a member of the elder's council."

"I want to know everything about him."

He sighed, heavily.

"I fucked up Nae, with you. But... indirectly asking me to aid you get my uncle as punishment, it's a bit....over the top."

She rolled her eyes.

"Oh darling, your atrocities are still fresh in my mind." But.... "Who better than the nephew of the prize to help me win the hunt?"

Silas groaned, leaning against the damp wall.

"You're officially insane."

"Insanity gets results."

She hadn't remembered the last time she had been up this early.

"Silas, I clearly said that I wanted the aloe vera mask and my green tea, I didn't say turmeric mask and black tea."

"But you-" He yawned and kicked back on my bed. "This is part of my punishment, isn't it?"

"Of course it is, what do you take me for? A merciful judge?"

"Maybe?" He teased, helping her pick between the green and lilac.

Lilac.

"As if. We're wolves, not humans." She rolled her eyes, dabbing her face with the white koal powder. Traditional.

"Since when did you start using koal powder? And not regular eyeliner?"

"Since I found out you have a six-foot-six gorgeous primordial for an uncle."

"You are unbelievable," Silas muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. "You are supposed to be mad at me. Like, throwing-daggers-at-my-neck mad. Not suddenly thirsting after my uncle of all people."

Naelis leaned forward, chin in hand.

"Oh, don't flatter yourself. I'm still mad at you. But anger doesn't cancel desire, Silas. It just... sharpens it."

He groaned into his palms. "Heavens help me."

"Heavens help him," she corrected, smirking. "Because once I'm done with this mask, I'm going to need a pottery lesson."

Silas dropped his hands and stared. "You are not serious."

"Deadly." She dabbed another stroke of koal powder. "What is his favorite color?"

"I'm not telling you that."

"What does he usually eat for breakfast?"

"I'm not telling you that either."

Naelis tilted her head. "Then I'll just have to ask him myself."

Silas groaned so loud this time it rattled her teacup. "Nae, I swear, if you ruin my family gatherings with your insanity-"

"Correction." She rose from the vanity. "I don't ruin family gatherings, Silas. I redefine them."

Naelis dusted her fingers together and turned, arms folding. "You want my forgiveness, right?"

Silas squinted at her warily. "As your ex, yes. As your best friend, yes. But... not if it comes stapled to whatever devil's bargain you're cooking up."

She smirked. "Don't act brand new. You know I could've told everyone about your little late-night rendezvous with what's-his-name, the boy in the photos?"

Silas's ears went red immediately. "Keep your voice down..."

"Relax." Naelis leaned in close, her lips brushing near his ear. "Your secret is safe with me. For how long though... that depends on you."

"You're actually blackmailing me into pimping you out to my uncle."

"I'm not asking you to help shove me into his pants," she said with a laugh. "Just get me close enough. The seduction part?" She tapped her chest. "Handled."

Silas dragged a hand down his face. "Nae, you don't get it. He has taken a vow. A lifelong vow. Celibacy. Zero. Nada. Zilch. The man probably gets cold sweats if he brushes someone's hand by accident. Dad and I have tried to hook him up on several occasions."

"Mm." Naelis shrugged, adjusting the lapels of her coat. "Summer break will be over in a couple of months. What is wrong with a little fun? Consider it... distraction therapy. I forget the fact that I was cheated on, you get my forgiveness eventually, and your uncle, well, he gets me."

Silas dropped onto her bed with a groan.

"I feel like a brothel manager."

She patted his head. "Relax, Silas. It's a win-win."

There was a long silence. Then finally, begrudgingly, Silas muttered, "He is a meat lover. Loves having meat for breakfast."

Her lips curved into a grin. "Perfect. I love meat too."

"Ugh." Silas flopped back, covering his eyes. "If you're really serious about this, breakfast is soon. He eats in the general hall."

Naelis slipped her arms into her coat, smoothing it like armor. "And that, dear Silas, is exactly why I am dressed and ready. Now be a good boy and escort me to the woods."

"The woods? For what?"

Naelis flexed her fingers, her claws sliding out with a satisfying click. She plucked up the claw-sharpener from the vanity and dragged it along the edge, sharpening it as she often sharpened her nails.

"To hunt, obviously."

"Hunt?" Silas blinked. "Nae, what the hell-"

"You said your uncle was a meat lover, right? Then I'll bring him meat." She tilted her head.

Silas groaned. "The kitchen staff already serves meat. We have cooks. Actual, professional, apron-wearing-"

Naelis cut him off with a laugh. "Oh, Silas. Do you really think a slab of pork from a pan has the same effect as a bloody kill dropped at someone's feet? Your uncle is a primordial, not some bored accountant. He will appreciate effort, he will smell the hunt in the meat. He will know it's fresh, and from me."

"You make it sound like you're about to court him in the Middle Ages."

"That's exactly the point," she said with a smirk. "Old vows and old important traditions. I'm simply speaking his language."

Naelis waved a hand dismissively. "You said he was traditional, didn't you? Well, in traditional times, wolves wooed their women with fresh hunts. I intend to flip the script. A guest show worthy of a primordial."

Silas gawked. "So, you are going to hunt... for him."

She smiled. "Exactly. And I plan to look good doing it."

His gaze dropped to her dress.

"You are wearing that to hunt? You'll snag it on every thorn in the woods."

"I'll snag his attention first."

"Oh man. You've got it down bad."

"What?" Naelis arched his brow. "It's been ages since I set my sights on a man. Except, of course, for the time I wasted on you."

"Gee, thanks."

"Anyway," she continued breezily, "this summer deserves a little fun. And if targeting your uncle is that fun, so be it."

Silas stared. "Are you seriously not even taking a crossbow? A spear? Knife? Anything?"

She scoffed. "Crossbows? What do you take me for, an archer princess? Please. I have my hunting material right here." She tapped her claws against the sharpener with a soft metallic scrape.

"The boars in our woods are wild, Nae."

Her grin turned feral. "And I am wilder. You know that."

The Great Dining Hall buzzed with the clamor of dishes and voices until Rowan Thalric raised a hand and the conversation softened, a ripple of respect for the Alpha.

He sat at the head of the table, black hair streaked with grey at the temples, the years only sharpening his edges instead of dulling them. A strong man of about six foot one.

Picking at his hot cinnamon buns.

Beside him, Zoran studied the platter of roasted meat set before him. Grapes and a jug of wine were also arranged neatly at his place. He picked up the goblet, swirled it lightly, and then looked up at his brother.

"This..." he tapped the rim, "is it alcoholic?"

Rowan chuckled. "No, brother. It is not."

Zoran took a brief sip and then inclined his head.

It packed a fruity punch.

The Alpha leaned back in his chair. "So. Tell me. Have you rethought your decision about the Beta seat? The Pack still waits. You would serve well, you know."

Zoran set the goblet down carefully.

"Unfortunately not. The Beta's role demands mateship, perhaps children down the line. But a primordial cannot take that path. If I ever found a mate..." He left that part hanging. "It's better to remain in council."

The silence that followed was brief, but not uncomfortable.

Rowan's attention then shifted to the boy on his left.

"Silas."

His son froze mid-bite. "Yes, father?"

Rowan chewed, swallowed, then said casually, "That reminds me. Zoran mentioned last night that he saw Naelis. Out in the storm, alone. Trying to leave?"

Silas's fork clattered against his plate.

"Uh-yes. Well. We are not... together anymore, stuff happened."

Rowan's hand stilled. The fork in his grip paused mid-air. His head turned to his son, brows knitting in confusion.

"Not together?"

Silas cleared his throat, fidgeting under his father's stare. "Naelis thought it was better if we ... .stayed best friends. Platonic, that's her word for it."

Rowan leaned back, the faintest sigh escaping him. "Huh. She's wild, that girl. Spirited too. I thought the two of you made a fine match."

"Apparently, we're better off platonic." Silas muttered, stabbing his venison.

Rowan shook his head, then raised a brow.

"And where is she, then? Why isn't she at breakfast?"

Silas hesitated. Turning off his ringing mobile.

"She, uh... went to the woods."

"To....?"

"To hunt."

Rowan frowned. "To hunt? At this hour?"

The answer came before Silas could form one. The great iron doors at the end of the hall banged open. Heads turned to the figure coming in and gasps rose.

Naelis strode in, her dress torn at the hem and hands slick with blood. She dragged a full-grown boar across the stone floor until she heaved it forward and dropped it with a meaty thunk.

The carcass sprawled in the middle of the dining hall, blood coating the polished tiles, the scent of fresh kill cutting through the aroma of roasted delicacies.

Naelis straightened, her dark eyes bright with feral triumph.

"I hoped someone saved me a seat."

The hall fell silent, even the cooks froze in the archways.

Rowan's fork slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground. The chunks of bread in his mouth, spilling over his parted lips and falling onto his plate.

Zoran alone did not flinch, his gaze met Naelis's and deterred the dead boar. Others may have assumed it was just a simple hunt. But he saw the thin pendant around the boar's hoof. And he understood the gesture.

"A little birdie told me that this would be a good gift for your brother, Alpha Rowan."

She plopped into the seat and grabbed a chicken thigh. She wanted to put it in her mouth when Silas pulled out a water gun from his pocket and squeezed jets onto her face.

"You look like a bloody Mary."

"Silas!" Rowan tried to hold back his chuckle.

Naelis narrowed her eyes when the stream of water stopped hitting her. She wiped her face.

"I might gut your son in his sleep, and I'll do it with one hand."

Zoran dropped his grapes, plopping the last one into his mouth and washing his hands in the porcelain basin beside him.

"Good morning, Naelis... Haldrith." He said simply, a soft smile on his face.

All traces of irritation melted from Naelis's face as she turned to Zoran.

The turquoise shirt. The laces at his cuffs. The navy joggers that seemed almost careless, and yet the man carried them with an elegance that made the hall itself lean in to listen.

Her lips curved.

"Zoran," she said, greeting him by name, "would you... like to taste it? The chef could immediately prepare the boar for you, served however you please."

He shook his head gently, a small smile tugging at his mouth.

"I don't eat boar."

Naelis blinked, her eyes darting to the carcass she had dragged in triumph. The hunt that had left her bruised, scraped, blood-soaked.

"You... don't eat boar?" she repeated, voice thin.

Zoran's gaze dropped to the beast's snout, streaked with a purplish line. He did not say more than that.

Her eyes followed his, finally remembering the tales.

Boars with purple-streaked snouts were one of the things regarded as sacred by the citadel men.

Fuck.

She pressed her palm hard against her brow and let out a frustrated groan. "Crap."

She pushed back her chair, muttering, "Fine. I'll go hunt you a deer instead. Something.... proper. The cooks can-"

But Rowan cut her off,

"Naelis. I've never seen you hunt for anyone."

Naelis exhaled, her eyes fixed stubbornly on Zoran.

"I just... wanted to align myself with him. I know the rest of this family. Even your dead relatives. But your brother is the only one I don't know. And I thought.... a gift would bridge that."

Rowan leaned forward as though he had something more to say, only to be cut off by his own delighted groan.

The chef had returned, bearing a tray of fig, sour lemon, and curd. Rowan's favorite. His eyes lit up like a boy's, the Alpha's composure dissolving into simple, greedy joy.

Silas stared in disbelief, lips twitching. How easily his father could be conquered by food.

"Honestly," Silas muttered, pushing back his chair, "you reek of blood, Nae. Go wash before the stench kills my appetite any further."

Naelis screwed up her face and jutted her tongue at him.

"Uh...fine."

But just before she grabbed the chicken thigh, she reached into her pocket, drew a small, folded paper and slid it across to Zoran just as he lifted his goblet.

His brows arched but she motioned for him to open it.

Alpha Rowan was too busy devouring curd to notice.

Silas was too busy glancing at his screen.

The moment Zoran's fingers flipped open the paper, he spat out his wine.