The mattress dips, and warmth radiates against my back as Lucas slides under the covers, his scent wrapping around me in comfort.
"Sorry I didn’t get to see you when you got back." His voice rumbles through his chest, pressed against my spine. "I was with the trainees."
"S’okay." I burrow deeper into his embrace, savoring the solid wall of his chest. He makes the best winter heater. "Everything okay?"
"Mostly." His breath tickles my neck as he nuzzles into my hair. The tension melts from my muscles, replaced by a bone-deep contentment that only comes from being held by my mate.
Then he sniffs me, nudging against the scar and mate mark on my neck.
"You smell like magic." His nose traces along my shoulder. "I heard it was rough today."
Sleep tugs at the edges of my consciousness, but I fight it to enjoy this moment. "Yeah, but it’ll be easier next time."
His hand rests with possessive familiarity against my hip, the simple touch sends sparks of pleasure through my drowsy body. "Good. I worry when you push yourself too hard."
"I’m learning my limits."
The bed shifts again as Selene hops up, circling twice before nuzzling her head against Lucas’ hip and belly.
I crack one eye open to glare at her.
What? Her tail thumps against the mattress. I missed our mate too.
"Traitor," I mutter, but there’s no heat behind it.
It’s perfectly normal. She yawns, showing off her impressive fangs. We’re connected, remember? I feel what you feel.
His chest vibrates with silent laughter. "Let her stay."
I huff but snuggle deeper into his arms. Her presence adds another layer of warmth to our cozy nest.
"Sleep," Lucas murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Everything else can wait until tomorrow."
Not fair, Grimoire complains, and when I crack my eyes open again, I can see him on the floor in his silver fox form. I’m the only one left out.
Selene makes a little rumbling growl. Stay out.
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Stop yawning.
"Sorry." Another yawn escapes before I can clamp my mouth shut. My eyes water, and I swipe at them with my gloved hand.
Your body is adjusting to normal magical levels, Grimoire says, his fox form perched on a nearby log. You’ve been running on excess power for so long, you don’t even realize how much you’ve been borrowing from your magic.
A snowball whizzes past my ear. I throw up a small shield, just big enough to deflect it. The packed snow explodes into powder.
Squeals of delight erupt from behind the snow fort where five of our youngest pack members huddle. Their excitement at being included in "Luna’s training" hasn’t dimmed despite the cold turning their cheeks and noses bright red.
"Again!" little Sierra shouts, her gap-toothed grin visible even from here.
Remember, efficiency and accuracy over power. The shield should be no larger than necessary, and only last as long as it’s required.
"I know, I know." My next shield wobbles, barely materializing in time to block Tommy’s fastball. The boy has scary good aim for a six-year-old. He got me in the butt once, and my eye another time.
Another projectile comes from my left. I spin, conjuring a shield the size of my palm. The snowball splatters against it, sending icy spray across my face.
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