Chapter 3 MY HEART, HIS HOWL

Sebastian's Pov 

I stood in front of the mirror in my room, holding up the new shirt I’d bought for the Moon Ceremony. It was dark blue, simple but clean, and it cost me half the money I’d stashed in the safe under my bed. 

I’d built that hiding spot myself, carving out a small compartment in the wooden floorboards to keep what little I had safe, from both myself and anybody that thought me to be, rightfully, an easy target.

I opened it last night, counted out the coins, and headed to the market at dawn. The shirt wasn’t fancy, but it was better than the shaggy, worn-out stuff I usually wore.

I gently laid the shirt onto my bed, like a fragile artifact. I sat down and ran my hands through my hair, thinking if I needed a haircut. It took me a few minutes to weigh that thought against the money I had left and then discard it. My hair was fine, I knew, I wasn't due for a haircut for another month.

I patted myself on the back for that rational decision. Although if I truly felt like I needed one, I'd have bitten the gun and got it anyway. 

I’d probably have to scrub dishes at the market for a month to make that money back, but I didn’t care. If there was even a tiny chance he'd look at me tonight and I wouldn't look like shit, it was worth it. 

As if I was a piece of metal and it was a magnet I gravitated towards the shirt again. Picking it up and going back to the mirror I held it against myself. It looked exactly like it had a few minutes ago; good.

Even Alisander growled his approval. 

“You think he’ll notice?” I asked Alisander, patting down a crease in the shirt.

I'd have asked that of my friends when I had some. They used to drag me to these things, but over the last couple of years, they’d moved on. Gotten mates, were in school, gotten grown up jobs, or just decided I wasn’t worth the effort anymore. 

I didn’t blame them. I wasn’t exactly great company, always looking for where my next meal would come from. I must have become a bummer to be around, especially when there was always nothing new with me.

Alisander whimpered, drawing my attention from the impromptu pity party I was throwing for myself. I sighed and put the shirt down before finally leaving it in my bedroom to go finish making breakfast.

I had a couple of lawns to cut before night fell. The earlier I started, the better.

_

I'd spend longer than I'd admit to anyone in the shower. I'd done everything; washed, moisturized and shaved every square inch of me. I wanted to look presentable and baby-soft. I wanted to look nice… for him.

I slipped on the new shirt and looked in the mirror again. It fit well, hugging my shoulders without being too tight. I wasn’t big or muscular like the betas or alphas, but I wasn’t as scrawny as I was anymore either. Years of odd jobs had given me some muscle, even if I was still an omega.

I grabbed my boots and sat on the edge of my bed to lace them up. “I want to see him up close. One good look, to maybe sketch him later, add it to the collection,” I admitted out loud. 

My walls were already covered with drawings of Ragnar, but I could always make room for one more. 

Alisander made a noise of acceptance in my head and I huffed out a laugh, as I shut the lights off in my room. I was glad he didn't seem to mind my expensive crush on Alpha Ragnar. I'd heard of people whose wolves disapproved of things like that because they weren't mates.

The pack house was teeming when I got there. The courtyard was lit up with torches, and the air smelled like roasted meat and fresh bread. Tables were piled high with food— whole chickens, loaves of bread, bowls of fruit, soft drinks, water even.

Alpha Ragnar didn’t skimp on Moon Ceremonies, always making sure there was enough for people to take home leftovers. That was the kind of Alpha he was. He was very fair and generous. And he was the perfect man for the pack.

I stayed near the edge of the crowd, only occasionally venturing in for something to eat. Nobody paid me any attention, which was fine by me. I scanned the courtyard, looking for him. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my ears. 

“Where is he?” I muttered under my breath, stuffing my hands into my pockets.

Before I could get too antsy, a reverent hush fell over the crowd. I looked up, and there he was. 

Ragnar stepped onto the raised platform at the front of the courtyard, his broad frame silhouetted against the flickering torchlight. 

My breath hitched. One day, this man might give me a nose bleed from just how hot he was.

He was wearing a shade of dark green that made his eyes stand out even more, the deep blue like an ocean bordering a lush forest. His long dark hair was pulled back, curling lushly on his back, showing off the sharp lines of his face. 

The point of nose was a cliff I wanted to dive off, straight into the softness of his mouth. I knew one of his ears was pierced, the left one, so I knew what was glinting out the dark.

He was tall too, oh how he was tall. His wide shoulders held up the tunic he was wearing regally, and when he raised a hand to call for silence, I could see the muscles lazily ripple at the motion.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry even though I'd just had a cup of water and a drink.

“People of the pack,” Ragnar said, his deep voice carrying over the courtyard. “Tonight, we gather under the Moon Goddess’s light to give thanks for another year. We pray for fertility, for blessings, for fruitfulness in our lands and our lives. May the Goddess guide us, protect us, and strengthen us.”

“Aye!” someone shouted from the crowd, and others echoed it.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. “He’s so…” I whispered, trailing off. I didn’t even have the words. Every time I saw him, it was like the first time. My hands itched for a pencil, but I’d have to settle for memorizing every detail for later tonight; the way he filled out his tunic, the way his voice seemed to wrap around me, even from that far away.

“— out of my league,” I muttered, finishing  sentence differently in an attempt to damp down my excitement. If he came near me, I didn't just want to crumple to the ground in a dead faint.

I shifted my weight, trying to get a better view through the crowd. Ragnar stepped down from the platform, and people started cheering, bowing their heads as he moved through them. I wanted to get closer, but my feet felt glued to the ground.

The drums started up, slow at first, the pounds reverberating through me and everyone here. I sighed as people perked up, pushing myself into the shadows.

They began to pick up until everyone had almost stopped what they were doing. When their song ended, it would signal the start of a Hunt.