The Wolf God's Unwanted Luna

Vivian’s POV

Shifting back had always been smooth for me: so quick and effortless it felt like slipping smoothly into a second skin. But this time was entirely different. The moment the transition ended, I became painfully aware that something was terribly wrong. A strange, unnatural glow shimmered around my body, only to flicker out like a candle being smothered by heavy storm clouds.

Then came the pain.

It hit me like a iron hammer to the skull hot and blinding, making my vision swim in a sickening haze of burning reds and deep oranges. My eyes flew open just as a sharp, sickening crack shot through my left wrist, the unnatural angle twisting my stomach into tight knots.

I choked on a scream but forced it down, clamping my mouth shut and holding my breath against the dark. The fire in my lungs battled the agonizing heat in my arm. My fingers instinctively clutched my broken wrist tightly to my chest as a numbing throb pulsed through the limb, the kind of severe pain that blurred the line between searing and dull.

Another sharp snap echoed.

This time, it felt like my entire nervous system short-circuited from the sheer shock. My knees buckled beneath me, and I crumpled hard onto the porch floor, the relentless agony drawing a breathless whimper from my throat. My chest rose and fell in sharp, ragged gasps as I tried to process what was happening to me. I’d never broken a single bone before not even during my excruciating first shift years ago. And I certainly hadn’t expected this to happen now.

The heavy front door slammed open with a deafening bang.

I didn’t bother to look up. I couldn’t. The pain had me completely locked in place, my body trembling violently and my mind swimming in darkness.

A massive shadow loomed over me before swiftly lowering. A hand large, pale, entirely familiar reached out toward me. My wolf instincts immediately roared to life. I bared my teeth and snapped wildly, my beast reacting defensively before I could even think to stop her.

"Shh... shh, it’s alright. Let me take a look, Vivian."

His voice. Deep, low, extraordinarily careful. Zaliver.

I forced myself to glance up through the hazy blur of tears.

Moonlight played across the sharp angles of his face, softening his expression. His normally intense blue eyes glowed faintly in the dark, the contrast stark against his pale skin. Strands of inky black hair fell messily over his forehead, glinting silver beneath the open night sky. His right hand stayed outstretched toward me, waiting patiently, even as his other wrist bore the long, uneven iron chains from the heavy shackles he’d somehow torn completely free from the bedroom frame.

My eyes narrowed sharply on the dangling metal. "You broke out." My voice came out choked and strained, teeth clenched tightly against the agonizing pulses in my bone.

The profound concern on his face instantly flickered into sheer annoyance. "Give me your hand, Vivian."

His tone left absolute zero room for argument.

I hesitated for a second, then reluctantly held out my mangled wrist toward him.

He took it gently in both of his hands, his touch surprisingly careful despite the sharp tension in his jaw. Then, a bright glow radiated directly from his fingertips: a stark, pure white light that quickly spread across my skin, sending a strange, powerful pulse straight through my bloodstream.

Something deep inside me stirred.

It felt like being pulled at from within, some ancient, dormant part of my soul waking up in direct response to his power. I sucked in a sharp breath as the sudden warmth spread from my wrist down into the very core of my body. My muscles clenched involuntarily, heat pooling low and heavy.

I swallowed hard, my cheeks burning in the night air. Zaliver’s intense focus never wavered, completely locked on mending my arm.

The agonizing fire began to ebb away, bit by bit. Just as I started to think I could handle the lingering ache, another sharp snap echoed through the quiet night air as my wrist shifted forcefully back into place. I flinched, bracing for another wave of blinding agony. But none came.

Instead, a strange, cooling calm settled over my entire body.

When Zaliver finally pulled his hands back, the white glow faded into nothing, and so did the strange warmth. My breathing was still ragged and unsteady, and his wasn’t much better.

I flexed my left wrist slowly, testing the joint. There was a faint, dull ache like I’d written a ten-page essay without taking a break but nothing more.

"What the hell was that?" I asked, staring at my hand in absolute wonder.

Zaliver sat back on his heels with a heavy sigh, rolling his neck to release the sudden tension. His glowing eyes dimmed back to their usual piercing blue. He reached out again, gently testing the bone with his thumbs and nodding to himself as if thoroughly satisfied with his work.

Still unsure, I pulled my arm protectively back against my chest.

"You’ve got about three to four days before your new form is fully ready," he explained evenly. "This kind of thing happens sometimes. Your body’s adjusting, making physical space for the shift. That kind of internal strain can cause unexpected breaks... like a false trigger."

My face paled instantly. "Three to four days? You’re guessing? Are you seriously guessing right now?" I snapped, my voice rising in sharp disbelief. "You’re the one who bit me, Zaliver! You can’t just ’guess’ when it comes to something like this!"

The words tumbled out of me in a frantic rush of frustration and underlying fear.

Because beneath all of it, one undeniable truth pulsed in my chest like a violent second heartbeat.

Something deep inside me was changing something wild, something ancient. And there was no turning back.

"Yes, three to four," Zaliver answered, giving a simple shrug. "I said I guess because unlike you, I don’t have a wolf. So your hybrid shift is probably going to hit a little differently than mine does."

He pursed his lips, and I could feel the sheer irritation bubbling in my chest at his calm demeanor.

I narrowed my eyes at him, far more annoyed than I wanted to admit. "You broke out," I repeated, my tone sharper than before.

His face twisted into pure disbelief. "Are you fucking serious right now? You break a bone, and all you care about is me breaking out of those chains just to check if you were okay?"

I crossed my arms tightly, ignoring the lingering sting in my wrist. "Yes, I’m serious. And I’m still pissed. You broke out and left the house."

He groaned loudly and rolled his eyes toward the sky, looking at me like I was being entirely unreasonable. "Technically, I’m still chained. And," he pointed down toward his bare feet, "I’m standing on the very last step of the back porch. So technically, I’m still inside the house."

He lifted one of his heavy hands to show the steel shackles still wrapped securely around his wrist and grinned smugly down at me.

Gods, he was utterly impossible.

"Fine," I muttered, completely defeated. "Get inside. And don’t leave the doorway again."

His dark eyes flicked from my face down to my wrist, then back up again. I knew what was coming the second his body tensed and he stepped forward.

"Hey! Put me down! I broke my wrist, not my damn legs!" I yelled as he easily scooped me up into his chest like some fragile damsel in distress.

He didn’t even flinch at my shouting. "Don’t care," he grumbled under his breath, turning around and carrying me up the stairs toward the house.

I squirmed uselessly in his arms at first, but fighting his sheer physical strength was entirely pointless. And honestly, I didn’t have the energy left to try.

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