The tutor arrived the next day, clasping a mountain of books in reedy arms. He was older than I had taught, with salt-grey hair and kind eyes. I set us up in the music room.

I skirted around him nervously as Easton made him a welcoming cup of tea. It made me nervous to have him here–as if I was back in school again.

"Hello there," the man's voice was crackly–old and worn. He held out a hand to me, his fingers trembling slightly. "My name is Thomas."

The mug seemed heavy for his wrists, so I went back and forth, helping him to bring things into the music-room where a study desk had been set out.

"Nova." Easton called to me softly. "I have something for you."

Thomas just trundled back to the music-room, humming gently under his breath. Easton led me down to his office and I stepped inside, scanning over the neatly kept room. Not a page lay out of place on the desk and a set of photos lining the wall of Easton in varying stages of his life. I was drawn to a picture sitting on top of a filing cabinet – of Easton and a young girl with eyes that were just as golden. He grinned shyly at the camera, while the girl slung her arm over his narrow shoulders.

"I was eight there." He glanced over. "That's my cousin, Wendy."

"You're cute." The pictures showed Easton as a big child – someone who bloomed up and out. "Where's your cousin?"

"She's a school-teacher back in Lidvarn."

"Oh."

He pulled a box out from his desk and slid it across to me. It was just a small, coloured box made of plastic. Inside, neatly lain, were note-pads and copies and sets of glittering pens, pencils and rubbers. All of them had some kind of design on them and I grinned, reaching for a lady-bug pen. When I shook it, the bug at the top wiggled. "Are these all for me?"

"If you want them."

"You know me too well." I took them gratefully, casting him a look. "Do you have a file on me?"

He motioned to one of the filing cabinets against the right wall. "Bottom drawer."

"Can I..?" Why was I asking. I set down the box, pulling the drawer open. It was only half-full, with files neatly stacked together. I eased them out, flipping open the first one.

A missing poster.

Nova Blue Linden. Age 16. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Approximately five foot ten. Last seen wearing a navy school uniform, pleated tartan skirt and black loafers.

I continued to rifle through. There were school photos – of my teenage face, grinning wide and bold. In one, I wore a woven band of daisies. In some ways, I was still the same. "You have my school reports too?"

Easton sat on the edge of his desk, watching me. "I do."

"You have a lot on me." It was un-nerving to see the depth of detail in the files. He had immaculately kept notes of what seemed to be searches for me, for my body. There were even post-mortem notes from the bodies of unknown woman found, marking that they definitely were not Nova Linden. "Some people might be creeped out by that. This is very stalker-like."

He braced his thick arms on the desk. "I was going to find you. One way or the other, I would find where you had gone."

"And if they found eventually me, dead and rotted?"

"Then I would dismantle the Ravi. Just like I had taken down the monarchy." Easton vowed.

"And because I'm alive?"

"That still doesn't change the Ravi's fate"

I heaved the box into my arms, running my tongue along my un-sharpened teeth. "Good."

When I returned to the music-room, Thomas was waiting. I spent the morning listening to his quiet, whispering voice and trying not to feel ashamed that I understood very little of what he was saying. We did maths and I counted on my fingers, smiling as I began to remember things that I had learned in school. We worked on how to calculate bills and taxes and Thomas slid me handy hints on how to save my money, all while nibbling on biscuits where the crumbs got caught in his wispy beard.

The front door opened when we were going over 'problems' in my maths copy and I paused, listening to the heavy tread of several Lycans. I could faintly scent them, but they moved straight to the back of the house.

Thomas left me in the afternoon, promising to be back and making me promise to do the work he left me. It amused me to think of this older man ordering me around with a stern, yet friendly tone.

I promised him I would.

As I tidied the books in the music-room, I caught the sound of angry voices. Tension laced up my spine and my head whipped to the door. A snarl curled my lips and I crept towards the sound on stockinged feet.

"Why can't you just ask her!" A rough and unfamiliar voice demanded.

"Leave it, Ryan." Blav said severely. "Don't press it."

"We have a wealth of information here and you're not exploiting it!" Ryan snapped, his voice low. I peeked around the door, spotting them gathering at the corner of Easton's hall. This Ryan fellow was in the text-book aggressive stance, his shoulders bunched and thick fists curled. "You've never been one to take the soft route Easton. Not before, but now... you're making soft choices."

"Does being an Alpha exclude me from being respectful? Or kind?" I didn't recognise the coldness in Easton's voice. I caught sight of him there, shadowed by the dark hall. Those golden eyes were held unflinchingly on Ryan, harsh and unyielding.

"Eight years," Ryan stepped out into the hall. "That's a long time for someone to be held captive. How do we not know that she's some kind of turned spy that was sent right into the Supreme's home to gather information."

Rage spliced Easton's expression and he loosed a low snarl. The sound rolled over me and I should have been afraid. I wasn't. The hairs on the back of my neck rose and I watched him, heat flashing behind my breastbone. The one called Ryan faltered and I scented the fear in his blood- the quick rush of adrenaline. He dipped his chin, lowering his gaze. Easton took a step towards him – crowding him. A snarl, rough and beautiful curled at his lips.

Still, I wasn't one to be defended.

"You think I'm a spy?" I stepped out so they could see me, my voice saccharine and soft.

The three men jolted in surprise, but I had attention only for the new-comer. Ryan was another Lycan, tall and broad. I had seen him actually – on some of the news-reels that mapped Easton's rise to power.

"I – I..." His face hardened. "I have a right to be suspicious."

I thought Easton was going to burst into fur and claws, but he held himself back. A vein jumped at his forehead.

"You have information on the Ravi?"

"Maybe," I kept my spine straight, staring at him without blinking. Insults could slid, but the insinuation that I had anything to do with the Ravi – that I helped them in any way. "What do you want to know?"

"Who is their leader?" He asked.

"Don't know." I arched an eyebrow. "Anything else?"

"Where are they based?"

"Haven't a clue."

Ryan's jaw tightened and he stepped towards me. A hand clamped down on his shoulder and Easton hauled him back, mouth tight. Teeth bared, he leaned in close to Ryan's ear. "You take another step like that towards my ma...her, and I'll pull your spine out through your throat."

Ryan didn't scoff. Instead, he went pale and it left me wondering if that could be done. Would it be weird to ask him that? Was it weird to be so flustered by the sight of his bared teeth?

Easton dismissed Ryan coolly and Blav smiled wryly at me, trudging behind him so that it left only Easton and I in the hallway. Tension leaked from his shoulders and he sighed, softly walking past me.

"I am sorry."

"For what?" My mouth was dry.

"For scaring you." He couldn't look at me, and his scent was clouding with shame. It was such a strange smell – wrong on him. He sat heavily at one of the kitchen tables, another deep sigh heaving in his chest. "I don't mean to."

"I'm not afraid."

"Your heart is racing. Your breathing has quickened." Easton cast me a look.

Annoyance laced through me – and the thought that I was nothing more than someone feeble to him prickled me. Someone to tread around gently.

Maybe I was in some respects, but I was more than something to protect. His shoulders laced tight as I approached him from behind. My nails skimmed up the exposed skin of his nape and he took a rough breath, growing incredibly still.

Something warm bloomed in my chest – but it was harsh too. It wanted to be recognised. I wondered, briefly, if it was burning starlight trapped beneath my skin.

Then, I knotted the back of his hair in my fingers. My pulse was thrumming, but I was not afraid. Or angry. I titled his head back and he let me, exposing the jut of his adam's apple. He wouldn't see the struggle to keep my teeth from biting down. My lips scoured his ear, my voice twisting into a snarl. "Don't mistake me for someone who needs the protection of a brute beating on his chest."

His fingers flexed, digging into the table. Hard enough that his finger prints dented the wood. His breathing was so cautious now – but he was not afraid. "You sound like you're afraid."

He swallowed. "I'm not afraid."

My fingers loosened in his hair. "No?"

Why was my mouth dry? I drew my fingers along the back of his neck – then along the length of his shoulder, tracking his reaction. My morbid curiosity was over-taking me. His bare skin made my finger-tips tingle, as if there was something there, just in a brush of skin against skin that was enough to flame embers.

"Nova," His voice was low. "You are giving me too much credit."

He stood as I moved around him in a rough, startling movement and retreated. His eyes were flashing golden disks, wild and his jaw was clenched, a vein jumping at his temple.

Prey.

The Omega stirred in the back there, intertwined with my very essence. It was not a chase of blood and destruction, but we were wholly amused by the thought of chasing down the enormous Alpha who retreated so easily for someone of his stature.

"Credit for your self-control?" I asked. "If a simple touch can send your spiralling, then you have learned little in eight years."

A low snarl slipped from him. "I don't want to – scare you. Go too far and send you running."

I took a step forward. He lurched and I could see it took it as I meant it. An advance. A threat. Solidly, he took a step back.

"Don't you trust yourself?" I asked, holding out a hand. "Come here."

"I definitely do not trust myself."

I titled my head. "I don't know a lot about how things work. I've missed a lot of people learning, but even I know that a stagnant atmosphere will eventually explode. We can advance, or fall-back. Each time is a chance to learn."

A smile touched the corners of his mouth, softening that severe look. "Where did you hear that?"

"Lux, I think." I fixed my attention on him seriously. "I want to know – if - I want to see if I'll react badly to you. I'm curious."

His hands flexed. "Do you think you would?"

I thought of the starlight burning behind my chest. The hum sizzling at my finger-tips. It wasn't the warmth of blood, or the pleasure the crack of bones brought me, but it was something different. Something more pure.

"I don't know." In a poor imitation of a joke, I said, "As long as you stay away from my neck. I'm ticklish and I might taze you."

Easton stepped close. He reached for my hand, finger-tips brushing along my open palm. My pulse jumped, but I was more overcome by the quick shot of calm that thundered through me. A burst of burning starlight chased it. He held my wrist softly.

"I deserved that tazor." He touched the line of my jaw, watching for the first flare of panic. It felt as if my chest was laced tight, and I waited too, for the panic or aggression to rise.

"You did."

His fingers curled back in and he dropped his hand. My curiosity still thundered, so I switched roles. I could hear his thundering pulse – thumping like a drum. Thump. Thump. Thump. He was handsome, in a wild, frightening sort of way. So handsome, so brutal and at the same time, so shy and cautious.

Lips parted when I matched his previous move, tracing my fingers along the thick line of his jaw. I was tall, but he was taller still. He watched me, incredibly still now. Like a predator waiting to pounce.

Heat burned in my lower belly.

Something flashed in his eyes, and that whiskey-brown turned to molten gold.

"Nova..."

I traced the deep groves marring his face. No – that wasn't the right word. He had been handsome when I had first seen him, but now he was ethereal.

He turned his face into my palm and that tension in his powerful shoulders began to seep away. Taking it all in curiously, I wondered how this had worked. How this worked? The Ravi would eventually find out how I was – who I was to the Alpha Supreme, the leader of the Lycans. If I could soothe him with a touch, then Doc-Mai would find a way to use me as a weapon.

I know I would do the same in her position.

Despite how I had built up my strength and courage over eight long years, I was still a weakness. I could have been indestructible, but it wouldn't have mattered. He didn't know how to handle me. It left him unsure – open to an attack.

Would that make me vulnerable? My loved ones were my soft spot. I would take pain and had taken pain to keep them safe.

"Too much at once –" I tracked the length of his nose. "Too much at once and I might snap. A little at a time and I might not."

I didn't know if it was me, or the manufactured beast who liked the thundering of his heart, the flesh of his cheeks as I leaned up, pressing my lips to his throat's pulse. A simple bite and I would tear out life and warmth – so simple.

I was a weakness for him.

I wouldn't forget that. Every weakness was an advantage if used right.

====================

A week passed with a rhythm.

Thomas came most days, bringing information and work. Lux and I spent our afternoons in the garden, sipping ice-tea and giving Easton unhelpful suggestions. By the time we were done, he retreated back into his office with coffee laden with sugar. I worked in the town-hall, paid only in cash and spent later afternoon wandering around Lunar. Sometimes Lux joined me – but she was being swayed by Nicolas.

Every evening, Nyssa and Kale came by for dinner.

The awkward atmosphere was slowly dissipating, but they were still strangers wearing familiar faces. On Saturday night, there was a third addition to the dinner.

I dressed up for the occasion. There had been only a moment over the phone where Mam heard my voice, but the conversation had been strange. Stilted. Lux curled my dark hair and when that was done, I pulled on a pale summer dress decorated with sunflowers. I had picked it up in a thrift store, and when I spun, I couldn't help but laugh as the dress swirled out.

"You look pretty," Lux complimented, sliding a clip into her hair.

I glanced at my face uncomfortably. Too sharp. Too cold. I practised my smile. Yeesh. Too much teeth.

Lux touched my elbow softly. "Are you ready?"

"Of course." I straightened my stance in the mirror. "We should go help with dinner."

Lux and I descended the stairs. Outside, evening had bathed Lunar in a soft, orange glow and through the open windows, I smelled the fresh hair and the heady scent of Easton's immaculately kept garden. Lux checked her skirt, smoothing her hands over the pleats. Friends complimented each other.

"You looked great." I knocked her shoulder. "Very pretty. Flowery."

Lux smiled at me. "Flowery as in old granny, or flowery as in young maiden of spring?"

"Flowery as in too much perfume and jam-jar glasses."

Laughter caught in her throat. "You're awful."

A knock came on the door and next, time passed in a blur of tightly held emotions and exclamations. Mam had held me tight, warm and soft. As I had always remembered her. There was light chatter over soup and Easton had collected the bowls, retreating to the kitchen to wash up. Nyssa collected the cutlery, looking beautiful with hair like dark silk and a red summer's dress with the leg slitted up the side.

Lux watched Nyssa retreat into the kitchen, her expression dark.

"Nova," Her attention switched to me. "I think Easton might want your help with the main."

"If you want to be poisoned."

"I like the way you carve the chicken." Lux pressed. "Besides, your mother needs her wine topped up."

"Oh," Mam tapped the wine-glass. "I would be spoiled. Easton always gets me a bottle of Aloyom and I never get sick of it."

"It's nearly two-hundred credits per bottle." Nyssa wandered back into the dining room, carrying out fresh cutlery. "He always gives such thoughtful gifts."

Two-hundred credits per bottle. And here I was trying to scrap credits together for colourful trinkets. "Why doesn't he just load his credits into a cannon and shoot it into the sky."

Nyssa cast me a sharp look. "Because that would be stupid."

"But amusing."

"Some things can't be bought." Lux settled back in her chair, playing with the edges of her napkin. "Nova? Are you going to help him?"

There was a bite in Lux's voice. Uncertain as to what caused it, I rose without question. Rarely did clouds darken the house's personal sun, but when it did...

I took Mam's wine-glass too and sauntered into the kitchen. As Easton whirled around gathering the plates and food, he had slung on an apron.

"I feel bad." I set down the empty glass. "Should we not be helping?"

'Kiss the Cook' the apron said.

"No, no," He rushed to assure me. "I like entertaining and I like it done... in a certain way."

"A control freak?"

"No!" Easton passed me, fingertips brushing lightly along my upper back. A small touch. Dipping the toe in water. I searched the wine-cabinet for Mam's favourite and poured her a generous glass. After that, I eyed the nearly full bottle.

"Is this nice?" I asked.

"Not nice enough to justify the price," Easton shrugged a shoulder, watching as I swung the bottle up, taking a generous swig of the wine.

I held the bottle out to him. "Why do you buy it then?"

"People seem to enjoy wine with a heavy price-tag. It makes you someone worth listening to then." Easton took the bottle, eyes darkening. He did not look away from me as he took a swig. Wordlessly, he offered me some more. We swapped over until the bottle was empty and I felt the wine rush to my head.

Knowing either giddiness or moodiness would soon swamp me, I set down the bottle. "It tasted expensive."

"If we continue like this, both of us will be terrible hosts." He glanced at the oven.

I could smell the roast chicken and I stepped past him, a hand resting on his back as I leaned around him to peer down at the bowl. "What's this?"

"Brussel sprouts cooked with honey."

"Ohhh..." I nearly salivated over them. "Spoon me an extra helping."