TASTE OF A BROKEN LUNA

“Are you crying?”

The gravel in Dominic Hale’s voice vibrated through the phone, hitting Jess Whitman right in the center of her chest. She choked back a sob, her knuckles white as she gripped the cold metal of the park bench. Around her, the scents of the California night—damp earth, exhaust, and the faint, metallic tang of shifting gears—felt suffocating.

“I dialed the wrong number, Dominic. Go back to your team meetings or your supermodel of the week. I didn’t mean to buzz you.”

“Jess. Where are you?” The tone wasn't a question; it was a command, the kind an Alpha used when he scented blood in the air.

“I’m fine. I’m just—I’m in a park. Near Michael’s place.”

“Why aren't you in Michael’s place? It’s midnight. The Crescent Moon territory isn't safe for a lone wolf after dark, especially one who hasn't shifted yet.”

Jess let out a jagged, watery laugh. “Michael’s currently busy being knotted by some blonde omic-wannabe in his bedroom. So yeah, the park felt a bit more spacious.”

The silence on the other end was heavy, pulsing with a sudden, sharp heat she could practically feel through the speaker. Dominic wasn't just her brother’s best friend; he was the Alpha heir of the Northstar Pack, a man whose presence usually felt like an oncoming thunderstorm.

“Stay put,” Dominic growled. “Don't move a muscle. I’m three minutes out.”

“Dominic, wait—”

The line went dead. Jess shoved the phone into the pocket of her hoodie, her skin still crawling. She could still see it—the way Michael Reynolds, the man she’d thought was her fated mate despite her delayed shift, had looked at that girl. The way his claws had lightly raked the girl’s hips in a way he’d never done with Jess. You’re too fragile, Jess. You’re too human, Jess.

The roar of a high-performance engine cut through the quiet of the street. A black SUV slammed into the curb, the tires screeching against the asphalt. The door hadn't even fully closed before Dominic was out, moving with a predatory grace that made the shadows seem to shrink away from him. He wasn't in a jersey or a suit; he was in a charcoal henley that strained against shoulders that looked wide enough to carry the weight of the entire pack.

He stopped three feet from her, his nostrils flaring as he caught her scent—salt, heartbreak, and the lingering, foul stench of Michael’s cologne.

“He touched you,” Dominic said, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating with a low, sub-vocal snarl.

“He’s an asshole, Dom. It happens.” Jess tried to stand, but her knees felt like water.

Dominic was there in a heartbeat, his hands steadying her. His touch was electric, a searing contrast to the night air. “He’s a dead man. I’ll tear his throat out for this.”

“No,” Jess snapped, finding a spark of her old fire. “He’s not worth the blood on your claws. I dumped him. I punched him. I think I broke his nose, actually.”

A grim, dark smile tugged at the corner of Dominic’s mouth, though his eyes remained stormy. “Good. Your brothers taught you well. But you’re shaking.”

“I’m just cold.”

“Liar.” He didn't hesitate. He stripped off his heavy leather jacket and draped it around her. It smelled like him—sandalwood, rain, and pure, uncut Alpha. The heat from the lining seeped into her bones, making her dizzy. “Get in the car. You’re coming with me.”

“I can’t go home, Dom. Jonathan and Marcus will smell the sadness on me before I even hit the driveway. They’ll go on a rampage, and Katherine’s wedding is in three days. I can’t ruin it.”

“You’re not going to your brothers’ place,” Dominic said, opening the passenger door. “You’re coming to the penthouse. Private territory. No one enters without my say-so.”

Jess hesitated, looking up at him. Dominic Hale was a public icon, the star of the league, a man who lived his life under a microscope, yet he looked at her with a raw, unshielded intensity that made her wolf-less heart stutter. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because he’s a fool,” Dominic whispered, leaning down until his breath stirred the hair at her temple. “He had a queen in his bed and he went looking for a stray. Get in, Jess.”

The drive was a blur of neon lights and the rhythmic hum of the tires. Inside the penthouse, the air was cool and smelled of expensive cedar. Dominic locked the door behind them, the click of the deadbolt sounding incredibly final.

“Shower’s through there,” he said, gesturing toward the master suite. “Scrub his scent off your skin. All of it. I have some clothes that might fit—or at least stay on you if we tie the drawstrings tight enough.”

Jess nodded, her mind numb. She stripped in the marble bathroom, the steam rising to meet her. She scrubbed until her skin was raw, desperate to erase the memory of Michael’s betrayal. When she stepped out, wrapped in a towel, she found a pile of clothes on the counter—a soft, black t-shirt that reached her mid-thigh and a pair of gray sweatpants.

She walked back into the living area. Dominic was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He turned, and his breath hitched. The t-shirt hung off her frame, the neckline slipping to reveal a pale, freckled shoulder.

“Better?” he asked, his voice thick.

“Physically? Yes.” Jess sat on the edge of the oversized leather sofa. “Mentally? I want to set something on fire.”

Dominic set the glass down and walked toward her. He didn't sit; he knelt between her knees, his large hands resting on the cushions on either side of her. The proximity was overwhelming. She could see the gold flecks in his blue eyes, the way his pupils were blown wide in the dim light.

“He told her I was boring,” Jess whispered, the words leaking out like a wound. “He told her he’d been trying to get rid of me for months because I’m… I’m not shifting. Because I’m just a human girl playing dress-up in a wolf’s world.”

“Look at me,” Dominic commanded.

Jess raised her gaze.

“You are Jess Whitman. You have more spirit in your little finger than that entire pack of cowards combined. Your wolf is there, Jess. She’s just waiting for a reason to wake up.” His hand moved, his thumb brushing the line of her jaw. His skin was scorching. “And if Michael Reynolds couldn't see that, it’s because he’s a blind whelp.”

“You don't have to say that, Dom. We’ve known each other since I was ten. You’re supposed to be the objective one.”

“I stopped being objective about you the day you turned eighteen, Jess.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and charged. Dominic’s hand slid into her hair, his fingers tangling in the damp strands at the nape of her neck. He pulled her slightly closer, his face inches from hers.

“Dom?” she breathed, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

“I’ve spent years staying away because of your brothers. Because of the pack. Because I didn't want to be the one to break the peace.” His voice was a low growl now, the sound vibrating in his chest. “But seeing you cry over a piece of filth like him? I’m done being patient.”

He didn't wait for her to answer. He crushed his lips to hers.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was an explosion of suppressed hunger and Alpha dominance. It tasted like fire and desperate need. Jess let out a small, broken moan, her hands flying up to grip his forearms. His muscles were like granite beneath her touch.

Dominic groaned into her mouth, his tongue sweeping past her teeth to claim her. He moved with a sudden, fluid power, lifting her off the couch as if she weighed nothing and pinning her back against the cushions. He climbed over her, his massive frame settling between her thighs, his weight a grounding, delicious pressure.

“Tell me to stop,” he gasped against her throat, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin over her pulse point. “Tell me to stop now, Jess, or I’m not letting you go tonight.”

Jess arched her back, her fingers digging into his shoulders. The betrayal of the night was fading, replaced by a white-hot sensation that started in her belly and radiated outward. “Don’t stop. Please, Dominic. Don’t stop.”

He growled, a sound of pure animal triumph, and ripped his shirt over his head. His chest was a map of scars and hard-won muscle, the ink of a wolf tattoo sprawling across his ribs. He looked like a god of war, and he was looking at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

He gripped the hem of the oversized t-shirt and pulled it up, his eyes devouring every inch of her skin as it was revealed. When she was bare beneath him, he paused, his hands trembling slightly as he cupped her breasts.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his thumbs circling her nipples until they peaked into hard points. “Perfect.”

He bent his head, taking one bud into his mouth, his tongue swirling and pulling with a rhythm that made Jess cry out. Her legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, pulling him closer, needing the friction.

Dominic’s hands slid down, over her ribs, over the dip of her waist, until he reached the junction of her thighs. He found her already slick, a soft gasp escaping her as his fingers made contact.

“Look at me,” he groaned, his voice ragged.

Jess opened her eyes, her vision swimming. He watched her face as he slid one finger inside her, then two. He was slow, deliberate, stretching her until she was sobbing his name.

“Dominic, please. Now. I need you now.”

He reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, kicking them off with a frantic energy that mirrored her own. When he moved back over her, Jess gasped. He was thick, heavy, and pulsing with a life of his own. He positioned himself at her entrance, the tip of him brushing against her, teasing the heat.

“You’re mine, Jess,” he growled, his eyes glowing a faint, ethereal gold. “From tonight until the end of time. Mine.”

He lunged forward, burying himself deep inside her in one powerful stroke. Jess’s head hit the sofa cushion, her mouth falling open in a silent scream of pleasure. She felt full—stretched to her absolute limit, her body struggling to accommodate his sheer size.

He stayed still for a moment, his forehead pressed against hers, his breath coming in jagged hitches. “You okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she choked out, her hips tilting up, demanding more. “Don’t stay still. Move. Dom, move.”

He started to thrust, his movements raw and unrefined. It was a primal rhythm, the sound of their bodies colliding—a wet, rhythmic slapping—filling the quiet room. He was relentless, pounding into her with a force that made the world tilt. Jess held on for dear life, her nails leaving red crescents in his back, her legs locked tight around his hips.

“That’s it,” he panted, his sweat dripping onto her skin. “Take it all, Jess. Take it.”

The tension built, a coil of lightning tightening in her lower belly. She felt the world start to fracture at the edges. Dominic’s pace increased, his thrusts becoming shorter, harder, his teeth bared in a snarl of pleasure.

“I’m—Dom, I’m going to—”

“Go,” he roared. “Come for me, Jess. Let me feel it.”

The orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, her internal muscles clamping down on him in tight, rhythmic pulses. She screamed his name, her body arching off the sofa as wave after wave of heat crashed through her.

Dominic let out a guttural sound, his body tensing as he gave one final, deep shove. He buried his face in the crook of her neck as his own release tore through him, his knot swelling and locking them together in the ancient, biological bond of their kind.

The silence that followed was heavy with the scent of sex and the lingering hum of power. Dominic collapsed onto her, his weight immense, crushing her into the leather. Jess didn't mind. She felt safe. For the first time in her life, she felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

But as the adrenaline began to fade, a sharp, cold chill prickled at the back of her neck.

Dominic stiffened, his head snapping toward the door.

“What is it?” Jess whispered, her voice still raspy.

“Someone’s outside,” Dominic said, his voice dropping into a lethal, low register. “And they don’t smell like your brothers.”

The handle of the penthouse door rattled, then exploded inward as the lock was shredded by a force far beyond human strength. A tall, slender woman stepped into the light, her eyes cold and calculating.

“Well, well,” Vanessa Price sneered, looking at the tangled mess of limbs on the sofa. “And here I thought the little Whitman girl was just a pet. I wonder what your brothers will say when they find out you’ve been marking the Alpha’s territory while the wedding flowers are still being delivered.”

Vanessa held up a phone, the screen glowing. “Smile, Jess. This is going to be the highlight of the pack meeting tomorrow.”