CHAPTER 105: WAKE

*~ Hazel’s POV~*

I thought to myself, I haven’t really wolfed out. One moment, I was human, and the next... I became a Crescent.

I turned to him. "Well—"

But he cut in before I could finish. "Don’t tell me you haven’t wolfed out yet. You look a little too grown to be under eighteen."

"Oh, I’ve wolfed out," I said smoothly. "Just recently."

"Wow," he chuckled. "So you’re still an inexperienced wolf."

I gave a small laugh too, though in my head I was already rolling my eyes. Only if he knew I could kill him right now before he even blinked. Silly goat.

Then he turned toward the ballroom. "Why don’t we head back in?"

"I don’t really know how to dance," I said, shrugging.

He looked at me in mock shock. "You don’t know how to dance? So you’re inexperienced in everything?"

He smirked as he leaned in slightly. "Or are you gonna tell me you’re inexperienced in bed too?"

Oh, if only you knew. I just rolled my eyes.

He extended his hand. "I could teach you. Just the basics. You said your husband’s inside, right? Imagine this—if I show you how to move, when we go back in, we’ll have the most magical dance. He’ll come running back, green with jealousy. And by then..." He stepped closer, his fingers lightly brushing my cheek. "You might already be mine."

If only you had sense, I thought. If only you knew the beast I’m mated to.

"Fine," I said with a slight smile. "Not like I know how to waltz anyway."

He took my hand and started guiding me through the basics. I won’t lie—he was actually good. Really good. He laughed as I stumbled a few times, encouraging me, teaching with patience. I started to get the hang of it, step by step.

Then suddenly—his eyes widened. His body tensed.

Blood sprayed from his lips.

I gasped, pushing him away just as he crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

And then... Cyrius stepped into view.

He was wiping blood off his clawed hand, calmly tossing the stained handkerchief to the side.

"You didn’t tell me you needed someone to teach you how to dance," he said darkly. "I asked you before, didn’t I? Did you want to learn how to dance?"

I smirked. "Oh, so now I suddenly have a husband? One that actually notices me? Wow. I’m amazed."

"Hazel, what the hell are you doing?" he snapped.

"Well, you invited me to this grand ball, then spent the entire evening waltzing with another woman. While I was out here enjoying my peace, a very nice man offered me his company."

"I didn’t drag you all the way from New Orleans just for you to end up with another man," he growled. "You’re not a damn plaything."

"Oh really?" I bit back. "And what were you doing in there with Miss Supermodel Deluxe? Laughing. Dancing. Holding her like she’s the only woman in the world. You barely even looked at me. Too much for a man who says he wants a perfect family."

I turned to walk away, but he grabbed my wrist and yanked me back, hard.

"You will not dare turn your back on me."

I ripped my arm from his grip. "Oh, I should’ve turned my back on you ages ago!"

His jaw clenched, and then, with a sharp motion, he pulled off his mask.

And oh God...why did he do that?

My breath caught.

Any rage I had fizzled into smoke. The moment I saw his face..his actual face. I felt the ground tilt beneath me. That haircut? That jawline? That perfectly sculpted nose, those thick brows, and those eyes..those furious, beautiful yellow eyes.

I was gone.

I felt like dragging him to a dark corner and climbing him like a damn tree. Every feature reminded me of Cayden. Of Caspian. Of everything I used to crave and hate and want again.

My stomach flipped. I tried to speak but no words came out.

The rage in his eyes didn’t falter.

"You want to learn how to dance, huh?" he said, stepping closer, his voice low and possessive.

"Fine. I’ll teach you."

He said my name and yanked me closer, his hands tightening around my wrists. His breath was warm against my skin, our faces just inches apart as the full moon bathed us in silver light, making my dress glitter like stardust. I pushed him back slightly.

"I’ve already learned how to dance," I snapped, my voice sharp. "The man you just killed already taught me. So, you can go back to your stunning little supermodel and enjoy your night. I’m done here."

I turned and started walking away.

But of course—Cyrius wasn’t done.

He grabbed my arm again, and I shoved him off. I was nearly at the top of the ballroom stairs, beginning my descent, when he yanked me back once more.

And then a woman’s voice rang through the crowd, teasing and loud:

"Oh my God, look at that! A new couple has joined the game!"

I turned toward her in confusion. Cyrius only grinned.

"You wouldn’t want to disappoint the crowd now, would you? So," he said smoothly, extending his hand, "shall we, wife?"

I hesitated, heart pounding, then reluctantly placed my hand in his.

He pulled me onto the dance floor, just as the music began to play—slow and elegant. Apparently, this was some sort of dance competition, where an instructor wandered among the couples, eliminating anyone who made a mistake or stopped moving.

Cyrius held me close. We began to waltz.

I immediately stepped on his foot—intentionally—but he didn’t flinch. No reaction. Just a soft laugh under his breath, like he knew exactly what I was trying to do.

I kept at it—subtle missteps, stumbles, even muttered sarcasm under my breath. I was doing everything I could to sabotage us, to embarrass him, to get us disqualified.

But nothing worked.

We moved too well together.

The way he twirled me across the floor, the way his hand fit perfectly at my waist, how our bodies flowed in rhythm with the music—it was maddeningly perfect. His grip was strong but gentle, his movements fluid, like he was born for this.

Soon enough, only three couples remained. The others still danced flawlessly, and I grew more desperate.

I gave one final push, hoping to trip him. But instead of falling, he caught me—effortlessly. His arms locked around me and spun it into a graceful move, making it seem like it had been part of the choreography all along.

The crowd gasped in awe.

Then—he swirled me back up to my feet, lifted me by the waist, spun me in the air, caught me again. The audience burst into applause as he dipped me low, holding me with pride, before gently pulling me upright—

—and kissing me.

Right there.

Right in the center of the floor.

My heart stopped.

His mouth crashed against mine with such intensity, such hunger, I forgot how to breathe. His tongue slid into my mouth, and I didn’t hold back. I kissed him right back, letting myself fall into him. His hand was intertwined with mine, the other still holding me close like I belonged nowhere else but here.

When we finally broke apart, I was flushed—dizzy with confusion and desire.

I turned and saw the other two couples frozen, wide-eyed, staring at us.

Then came the announcement:

"We finally have a winner!"

My heart was racing. I spun around, cheeks burning, and bolted out of the ballroom.

I slammed the door to my room shut and leaned against it, panting.

Oh my God... what was that?

I rushed into my room and slammed the door behind me just as Cyrius’s voice echoed down the hall.

"Hazel! The party is not over, damn it!"

I didn’t answer. I didn’t even look back.

The door clicked shut before he could get through, and I locked it, pressing my back against the cool wood. My chest was heaving. My skin was hot—burning, like wildfire under my flesh.

I turned toward my babies, still fast asleep on the bed, peaceful and unaware. But I could barely focus. My body... something was happening.

Something was changing.

I stumbled backward, clutching the edge of the dresser as my breath grew ragged. Heat flushed through my core, pulsing like a drumbeat synced to the full moon. My reflection in the mirror across the room looked different—my eyes gleamed gold, glowing faintly. My lips still tingled from that kiss.

What did Cyrius do to me?!

My heart thudded louder. My nails began to grow elongating into claws. The tips curved, sharp and black. I looked down at my hands, shaking.

"No... no, no, no..."

Was I... wolfing out?

This couldn’t be happening. Not now.

And yet..here it was. Scratching, tearing, roaring to be set free.

Panic shot through me. I turned to the babies, now stirring faintly, and with a protective instinct sharper than any blade, I pushed them gently to the far corner, away from me.

"Stay there," I whispered, voice trembling. "Mama’s okay. Mama’s okay."

But I wasn’t okay.

Fur burst from my skin—silver, streaked with ash and crimson. My cheeks contorted, bones shifting under my skin. I tore the dress off me with one sharp movement, not willing to ruin it—or trap myself in it when the beast inside fully rose.

And then—

Boom.

A loud crack rippled through my spine. My knees buckled. My mouth opened in a silent scream, and then... I transformed.