Chapter 5 — The Twin (Narrative Revision)
Godiva
The night in Moonstone Mansion felt heavier than any darkness I’d ever known. It wasn’t just the unfamiliar silence or the vastness of the bedroom—it was the strange, living pulse beneath my skin, the lingering heat at the mark on my neck, and the unsettling awareness that something inside me had shifted in ways I didn’t yet understand.
I lay awake long after the house had settled. Cold moonlight washed across the room through the tall window, turning the floor silver and the shadows deeper. Every time I closed my eyes, the memory of Castor’s glowing gaze flickered behind my eyelids—the moment he bit me, the way the world spun afterward, the inexplicable pull I felt whenever he came too close. None of it made sense, yet all of it lingered like a whisper I couldn’t quite tune out.
Eventually the restlessness grew unbearable. I slipped out of bed and crossed the room, drawn to the window as though fresh air might calm the storm inside me. Outside, the courtyard stretched wide and quiet, guarded by dark silhouettes of wolves pacing along the perimeter. Their movement was fluid, purposeful—nothing like the chaotic danger I’d escaped earlier. Moonstone was a world of its own, governed by laws I hadn’t learned yet, and I wasn’t sure if I belonged to it or was being swallowed by it.
I pressed my fingers lightly over the bandage on my neck. The skin felt warmer there, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat that wasn’t entirely mine. Castor had called it a mark, something ancient and binding. Something instinctual to his kind.
A soft sound slipped from my mouth, half a groan, half a sigh.
“This is insane. Completely insane.”
I closed the window, letting the curtains fall back into place. The room dimmed, leaving only the moon’s outline brushing the furniture. I climbed into bed again, though I knew sleep would not come easily.
I had barely settled when the door creaked open.
Not loudly—not enough to jolt me—but quietly, the way someone enters a room when they don’t want to be caught wanting to be there.
“Godiva?”
His voice carried through the dark like warm smoke. Not commanding. Just soft enough that my pulse tripped.
I pushed myself up on my elbows, breath held without meaning to. Castor stepped inside, the faint light catching the edges of his hair and broad shoulders. He looked different from earlier—looser somehow, as though the weight of the night had worn him down, softening the hardness in his expression. His white shirt clung to the wetness at his collarbone, suggesting he’d only just showered.
“I thought you were sleeping,” he said quietly as he approached.
“I tried,” I admitted. “Turns out being bitten by a werewolf doesn’t make for the best bedtime routine.”
A ghost of a smile crossed his lips, but it faded quickly. He moved slowly, as if measuring the right distance between us before stopping near the foot of the bed.
“Is it hurting?” he asked, his gaze flickering to my neck.
“Hurting? No. Confusing? Absolutely.”
He exhaled slowly, and for the first time since I’d met him, he seemed unsure of himself. Castor, the Alpha, suddenly looked as if he didn’t know where to place his hands.
“You shouldn’t be awake,” he murmured. “You’ve had too much thrown at you.”
“So have you.”
That caught him off guard. His eyes snapped to mine again—sharp, golden, searching. I felt the same pull I had felt earlier, that invisible string tethering us in ways I didn’t choose yet couldn’t deny.
“Godiva…” His voice was lower now, tinged with a rasp that slid like velvet down my spine. “When I’m near you, everything in me strains. Trying to control it feels like fighting gravity.”
“Then don’t stand so close,” I whispered. “I can’t think properly when you do that.”
That earned a quiet laugh from him—warm, genuine, almost boyish in a way that felt dangerously intimate. “And you think distance will help you think clearly?”
“I’d like to try.”
“Then I’ll give you distance,” he said, but he didn’t move away. “I just needed to see you. After what happened tonight… I needed to know you were safe.”
The sincerity in his voice wrapped around me more tightly than his hands ever could.
My heart thudded once, then again.
“Castor,” I breathed, “why did you really bite me?”
His composure slipped. The mask he always wore cracked open, revealing something rawer, darker.
“Because something in me recognized you the moment I saw you,” he said. “There was no room for hesitation. No room for thought. My wolf surged forward and claimed you before I could stop him.”
I swallowed hard as the air thickened around us. The meaning of his confession hit me slowly, like warmth seeping through cold bones.
“That doesn’t make it right,” I whispered.
“No,” he agreed, “but it makes it real.”
His gaze dipped to my lips, lingering there as if he were fighting the urge to close the distance. The atmosphere shifted, tightening with a magnetic pull I couldn’t breathe around.
“Castor…” I said again, though my voice barely carried the word.
Before I could say more, he moved closer—not abruptly, but with a deliberate slowness, as though giving me every chance to pull away. The bed dipped under his weight as he sat beside me, his presence enveloping but not overwhelming.
“I shouldn’t be here,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “But I’ve spent the last hour trying to pretend I can ignore this bond. I can’t.”
He reached for me, hesitation flickering just before his fingers brushed my cheek. His touch was warm, steady, unbearably gentle. I leaned into it before I realized what I was doing.
His breath mingled with mine. Heat coiled low in my stomach. My body moved without my permission, leaning into him like he was the one gravity had been leading me toward all along.
His lips met mine.
Not hurried. Not claiming. Just soft at first—tentative, exploring, as if memorizing the shape of me. I gasped quietly, and something in him snapped. The kiss deepened, his mouth molding against mine in a slow, consuming rhythm that made the world fall away, leaving only warmth and heat and breath.
My hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer, as though my body recognized him even if my mind screamed for space.
“Godiva…” he murmured against my lips, his breath unsteady. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
I was about to ask him a question, but his hand was already covering my mouth.
"I want you to be quiet and not say much.”
I nodded.
Castor had already removed his hand from my mouth, replacing it with a sighing, demanding kiss. His kiss felt different, but I was already lulled by his tongue inside my mouth.
For the first time, I became bold and moved closer to him first. The warmth of his body clinging to my chest.
Castor buried his head in my chest. He played with his mouth until it left a wet spot on my T-shirt.
This is crazy! I almost moaned Castor's name when he slipped his fingers up my skirt past the fabric framing my thighs.
"I..."
"I said don't make a sound!"
I obeyed. My lips pressed together and gripped the sleeve of his T-shirt. I could feel the wetness of my intimate parts.
The sensation was so intense that I was tingling with something that wanted to burst out of me. I held back the sighing sound of my own. It's so hard to do when my brain can't work normally.
Castor move his hand away from mine. I couldn't see his face clearly due to the lack of lighting.
"You like it?"
I nodded, again. After that, Castor intensified his touch on every sensitive spot on my body. I almost went crazy from the sensation.
My underwear moving away from my waist and slowly toward my toes. I didn't feel any barriers anymore. Likewise, my T-shirt had slipped off my body.
The pressure was on my chest, wet and squishy. As I lowered my face, Castor's head with his hair between my fingers, already fully immersed in my breasts.
I savored his every touch and kept going until it was his that broke through my last defense. It hurt, but it also felt good until I lifted my head. My nails dug into his bare back until I heard him groan under his breath.
For the next few minutes, only a thin sigh escaped me and a stifled growl from his mouth that was close to my face. We did it for the first time after a rough day. I lay exhausted on the bed as Castor pulled his body away from mine.
"You got me drunk, Godiva," he said with his breath still coming in.He kissed me again—slower this time, unbearably tender—before pressing his forehead to mine.
And then, just as I began to lose myself again, he stilled.
He drew back slightly, and I noticed the change instantly. The warmth in his eyes had vanished, replaced by a colder awareness. The energy in the room tightened, shifting subtly, but unmistakably.
My heart skipped.
“…Castor?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead he studied me with a look that didn’t feel like Castor at all—not the protective intensity, not the quiet tenderness, none of the jagged emotion he wore so openly.
This look was sharper. Cooler.
Calculating.
When he finally spoke, the tone cut through the haze like a blade.
“My brother said something about your scent, didn’t he?”
The breath left my lungs.
“Y-your brother…?”
He leaned in, and though his lips brushed my skin, the warmth behind the gesture was gone. The voice that followed slid over my ear like silk hiding steel.
“Let me introduce myself properly.”
A chill swept through me, prickling every inch of my skin.
“The name,” he whispered, “is Pollux—the twin.”
The world lurched—my pulse, my breath, my thoughts stumbling over the truth settling like ice in my chest.
This wasn’t Castor.
His twin was in my bed.
