They leave for Blood Moon this weekend. About fucking time too. In the past two days that Cyrus has been here, it's been so boring.

Jax is boring. Grave Shadow is boring. Everything is boring.

(Except for Zeke. He may not talk much, but he's still cool.)

In Grave Shadow, they have a routine. They wake up, they eat, they work, they sleep. Rinse and repeat. Even the local pups are too focused on their duties, whether it be through their studies or their training. None of them are out playing tag or fetch. What gives?

It's why Cyrus insisted on finally visiting the one place that's not boring before their departure: the greenhouse. Because somewhere in this cold and lonely shithole, there's a place that's actually decent. Grave Shadow has a greenhouse in its premise and Jax refuses visitation out of spite against him. Or at least, that's what Cyrus can chalk it up to anyways: pure spite.

Why else would Jax remain so adamant on avoiding his own greenhouse otherwise?

Earlier in the morning, Cyrus had even stuck his tongue out and retorted with, "If you can't even give me a real bed to sleep on, then at least hand me some damn flowers to smell. It'll help deceive me into thinking that I'm not stuck in some never-ending nightmare."

So now, much to his giddy excitement, here they are.

"I'm not doing this because you asked." Jax sucks in a sharp breath from his vape, then lets out a huff of minty air that lingers. "I'm doing this because I actually have real business to tend to. The betas here consult me on their findings and finances."

"Sure, sure." As he slings an arm around Jax's neck and pulls him closer, Cyrus leans over his broad shoulder, craning his head forward. Then, his lips meet the vape clutched in the other alpha's hand, eager to steal a puff. Without an ounce of shame, he mimics the way that he had blown his smoke earlier, replicating a sharp breath of his own and watching as the white vapor that floats from his mouth fades out into nothingness. "Go out there and be a big man."

Like usual, Jax jerks away with a scowl, his cheeks blooming red with embarrassment. "Get your own damn vape already."

The grin across Cyrus's face widens. Mint stings his teeth.

"Don't talk to anyone who works here while I'm away either," Jax suddenly warns, a blunt edge to his words. "Not a single person." He stabs a finger into his chest, pushing hard enough to almost make him budge. "Don't."

Cyrus's smile withers away. "Whatever, Grace is around anyway. I've been meaning to catch up with her." Seriously, he doesn't understand Jax's persistence in keeping away from these greenhouse employees, but he figures it's just another way for him to be petty. "We can't be more than, what, ten feet apart from each other, remember? I wouldn't be too worried when I can't even go anywhere that far."

"True. You are loud."

"Hey–!"

Before Cyrus can add more to that, Jax turns his back to him and walks a few steps in the opposite way. He's heading in the direction of a few beta staff members, both who are about five feet away or so.

He's nearby, but at least this way, Cyrus knows he won't be listening in on him and Grace.

Speaking of Grace...

As he waves over at her from where she is, beckoning her forward with an enthusiastic flourish from his hand, he notices a pair of brownish red wolf ears atop her head; he knows that she hasn't been shifting from her feral form lately, which can only mean one other thing.

She's still angry at him.

Her ears often pop out and stay out whenever she's upset. It's an instinctive reaction.

Since it's been a few days already, he thought she might have calmed down by now. After all, she is a priest of Luna, and she wasn't exactly happy to hear about his new ambitions to try and destroy the goddess that she's dedicated her entire life to. It makes sense why she feels the way that she does, but that doesn't mean he can just pull back now. Not when he, and his leadership over Blood Moon, has already been scorned by God herself. He can't submit to someone else's will, even when that someone is his fated mate.

Guess she needs more time to process, but they're meant to leave for home soon. She can only stay mad for so long...

"Hey Grace, can we talk?" he pleads, the knots in his stomach tangling together as she finally, finally, approaches him. "I'm sorry that things have been weird lately..." He brings both his hands together. "Can we sort this out?"

For the past few days now, her silent treatment has been about as cold as this year's winter season, with chills seeping through their bones and frost skating past their skin in prickling stings.

"Please?" he tacks on for good measure, stooping down to match her height and catch a hint of her golden eyes. "Please, Grace?"

When his gaze captures hers, he notices the blue rose gripped in her hands.

Luna's rose.

It's the same one she had gifted to Grace on the night of the ball. Pastel blue petals curl out from the head of a ripe green stem, thriving in full bloom. He's surprised that it hasn't wilted yet.

"I know I can't stop you from whatever you're doing," Grace says, uttering her first words to him in days. Defeat is thick in the low hush of her soft-spoken voice. "I understand that you're hurt because Luna disapproves of us, but I just can't support you in your endeavors. I can't..."

Even when angered, she carries through with docile manners. Cyrus waits for her to continue, not wanting to interrupt. When she doesn't and more uneasy silence follows, he straightens out his shoulders, pensive.

He takes a few more moments to himself before releasing a sigh. "It's not you that she disapproves of. You're one of her priests, I'm sure you'll be fine." He looks away from her. "It's me that she's after."

Grace clings onto the blue rose in her hands tighter. "Cyrus..."

"It's me that Luna disapproves of. She chose Karja and Hunter over me. I'm sure she wants me dead too when they both have her permission to come after me on the next full moon. When my life is at stake, I have to go big to protect it. And I can't die just 'cause she wants me to."

"We might be assuming bigger things that aren't true..." Grace steps forward, her wolf ears drooping down. "Why would– why would she bring us together as fated mates if she means to hurt you now? It doesn't... I just– I refuse to believe how that makes sense..."

Fated mates.

That's what they are: boyfriend and girlfriend. Soon to be husband and wife. Soulmates for life.

Everyone knows that romance is controlled by Luna. After the age of eighteen, half of the werewolf populace is blessed with a fated mate that's chosen for them. The other half that aren't given romantic partners are simply meant to thrive as independent individuals, like Ram. They aren't tied to anyone and are free to explore the rest of their lives with so much more.

Sometimes, Cyrus wishes he could be like Ram. Being single seems—well, frankly, it seems awesome. He almost envies Ram, and even Jax, for it. Both are alphas with no fated mates to be concerned about–

Not that Cyrus doesn't love Grace.

No, no, of course not. Of course he loves her. He's supposed to love her. He needs to love her.

"I think Luna's punishing me 'cause she knows," he blurts out, the confession slipping past him so fast that even he barely has enough time to process what just came out of him.

What the fuck?

With wide eyes, Grace stares back at him, the expression on her face mirroring his own bewilderment. "Sh-she knows what?" she stammers out.

In the spur of the moment, he pretends like he's talking about something else entirely because that's not a conversation he's ready to have ever. His eyes dart over to where Jax is—occupied with exclusive Grave Shadow business—then shifts back to Grace and blurts out, "The basement."

Translation: The underground vampires' den back in Blood Moon.

Since Luna had been watching over them until recently, she must be aware of his cooperation with the vampires these past few years. Thankfully, she never seemed to care about the immortal affairs of the vampires that were still around, for she had already slayed their goddess long ago; he supposes to her, it's like being concerned over the maggots that are born from a rotten corpse.

Or at least, that's what Cyrus had originally believed. Perhaps she's somehow upset that he's in contact with them after all—the cherry on top of this fucked up sundae that's their life. At least, that's what he implies with his code words.

Tension rises in Grace's shoulders, turning them rigid. Immediately, she understands his implications. She also sneaks a glance over at Jax, making sure that he's still busy. "I spoke to Ram about cleaning it out since we'll be home soon."

Translation: I already told Eliza and the rest of the vampires to remain underground, until the coast is clear, over the phone.

"Make sure they really tidy up the place," Cyrus says. "I know there's probably a lot of dust."

Translation: Jax and the rest of Grave Shadow can't ever know that they're with us. We have to make sure that the vampires stay in their bat forms for a while.

Grace nods. "It'll be taken care of."

Translation: I'll check in on them often and make sure that they're okay.

Then, she tucks the blue rose back inside of her satchel bag, grabs one of his hands, and gently pats the back of it with her slender fingers. Her polished nails gleam underneath the violet grow lights beaming down on them, a colorful contrast to the blue pentagram circle stamped across his tanned skin. "Cyrus, my alpha... We may not agree on anything right now, but I will always care for you. I'd like for you to keep your head down and pray that Luna gives us mercy sooner, but I understand why you'd rather do things differently. I know it's not like you to give up on anything."

Guilt renders him breathless as he practices a smile for her, his lips limp and numb to the motion. He feels like he's drowning and he doesn't know how to stop. As a gesture of courtesy, he kisses her on the forehead, a brief peck brushing against her fair skin, and hopes it'll mean something one day.

"Thanks, Grace." His vision threatens to blur as tears emerge, pricking the corners of his eyes. Ashamed, he averts his gaze to the ground beneath them. "Sorry you have to put up with me."

Try as he might, there's a crack in his voice. He wants to love her in the way she's supposed to be loved.

"Don't say that." She shakes her head, continuing to tenderly hold onto his hand. "You remind me of nature." She swings an arm over her head, gesturing to the vibrant green foliage surrounding them. "Sometimes you'll have good days, with sunshine and rainbows. Clear skies and cool breezes. And sometimes you can be a storm, with everything around you torn asunder. No matter how chaotic and unpredictable you may be, I will always be here because I know there's going to be a big bright sun ready to come out after the storm." A radiant smile curves up her rosy lips. "Nature can be really cool."

She's literally perfect. He's trying to destroy her goddess—their goddess—and even if she can't side with him, she can't bring herself to outright hate him either. He couldn't have asked for a better soulmate.

Yet as they maintain eye contact, Cyrus still feels nothing.

Perhaps warmth lingers like a healing balm, a sense of camaraderie shining through, but none of the intimate sparks that he'd been hoping for.

Just nothing.