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Todos los capítulos de Moon Bound With You: Capítulo 41 - Capítulo 50

53 Capítulos

Chapter forty-one

POV: SebastianThe rink smelled of sweat and ice, the tang of chlorine lingering from the maintenance crew. It was early, the fluorescent lights harsh and unflattering, but the emptiness suited me. No cheering fans, no teammates pressing questions, no media waiting to dissect the smallest misstep. Just ice, boards, and my own reflection in the glass. I laced up my skates carefully, methodically. Every movement is deliberate. There was a rhythm to it, a control I craved now more than ever. My body was awake in ways it hadn’t been before. Reflexes sharper, muscles reacting faster, senses heightened. Not something I could explain, only something I felt instincts I had been blind to before Duskpine.Rowan was already here, standing at the edge of the ice with his arms crossed, eyes scanning me the way a predator might appraise prey or maybe, in this case, someone he genuinely wanted to keep alive. The bond thrummed faintly in my chest as I stepped onto the ice, and I felt him in a way tha

Chapter forty-two

POV: RowanThe cabin was quiet when I returned. The faint smell of pine cleaner lingered, along with the residual heat from the morning fire. Sebastian had gone through his gear with precision pads stacked, skates tucked neatly but he hadn’t lingered. He never lingered.I stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him, feeling the bond pulse faintly, steadily, anchored. It was different after the rink. Not louder, not demanding, just aware. He had pushed himself, tested his control, and had survived. That was enough to make me alert, not relieved. Survival didn’t mean readiness. Not yet.Outside, the wind stirred through the trees, brushing the frost along the windowpanes. I felt the subtle shift, instinctively aware of eyes watching, whispers of magic moving across the ridge. The Order was awake. Always awake.I stepped outside again, keeping my movements slow and deliberate. The air was crisp, almost sharp against my skin. My senses were heightened, tuned to more than just Sebastia

Chapter forty-three

POV: SebastianThe cabin feels different in the evening. Quiet, but not peaceful. That stillness presses against my ribs, like the air itself is waiting for something to happen. I know it’s the calm before the storm. Always calm before the storm in Duskpine.I drop my gear near the door and move toward the kitchen. The mug Rowan left for me earlier sits where he always leaves it untouched, still warm. I pick it up, take a slow sip of coffee, and let the heat anchor me. A small comfort, a tether to the ordinary when nothing about my life here is ordinary. The bond hums faintly in my chest. I feel Rowan’s presence before he steps into the room. It’s subtle, like a brush of wind across my skin, a gentle pressure that reminds me I’m not alone. He doesn’t speak at first. Just stands there, leaning slightly against the counter, hands tucked into the sleeves of his hoodie. Watching. Measuring. Caring without needing to say it.“Long day?” he asks finally. Voice quiet, careful.I shrug, more

Forty-four

POV: SebastianThe rink smells the same as it always does: ice, metal, and faint sweat. Somehow, in Duskpine, it’s comforting. Familiar. A place where I can push myself and feel something resembling control. Rowan is already there when I arrive, leaning against the boards with a towel draped over his shoulders, eyes scanning the players on the ice. Noticing. Measuring. It’s instinct now, his presence, but I feel it as a weight in my chest that’s oddly reassuring.I skate toward him, the sound of blades against ice a rhythmic reminder that I’m alive and moving in ways that are mine. He meets my gaze briefly, then gestures subtly toward a line of drills. I nod, the acknowledgment passing between us without words. The team is buzzing more than usual. Some players whisper about my… incident. A few glance my way with curiosity. I catch snippets of conversation, concern, judgment, and admiration. I keep my head down. Focus. But beneath the routine, I feel the stirrings of something bigger.

Forty-five

POV: RowanNight falls fast over Duskpine, and the streets empty almost as soon as the sun dips below the mountains. Snow covers the sidewalks in thin, slippery sheets, glittering under the street lamps. Most people are inside now with warm fires, hot drinks, and sleep. But I don’t belong in warmth tonight. I’m outside the rink, standing just beyond the perimeter, eyes scanning the empty parking lot. My fingers brush against the edge of my coat pocket, where a small warded talisman rests. Magic hums faintly under my skin, the bond between Sebastian quiet but insistent, like a heartbeat I can feel from afar. I draw on it lightly, not power, just awareness. He’s done with practice. He’s fine. But that doesn’t mean I can relax. Not yet. Movement catches my eye. A figure slips along the shadows near the edge of the lot. Too fluid, too deliberate for a local kid sneaking out for a snowball fight. My hand rests instinctively on the hilt of the small dagger at my belt ceremonial, yes, but ef

Forty-six

POV: SebastianThe rink smells like ice and sweat and something faintly metallic blood, maybe, or just the memory of it. It’s early, but the team is already there. Jared and Connor are arguing about skates again, while a new face, a rookie named Elias, nervously shuffles toward the bench. I can feel Rowan’s presence even from here, faint but steady, like a heartbeat I’m tethered to across distance. I shake my head, trying to focus. Training is training. Nothing magical about it. Nothing dangerous. Just blades, speed, and strategy. But even as I lace up, I notice the way the ice seems brighter, sharper, like it’s holding its own tension.“You look… focused,” Connor says, smirking as he watches me. “Or scared.”I glance at him, raise an eyebrow. “Which do you think?”He laughs. “Both. Classic Holt.” I shake my head and push off, gliding over the ice. My reflexes feel… different. Sharper, yes, but also smoother, like something inside me has loosened and settled. The hunger I feared the i

Forty-seven

POV: RowanThe locker room smells of sweat and plastic, the sting of disinfectant barely masking it. Players chatter around me, some stretching, some shooting glances at the boards as they strategize for the tournament next week. Duskpine’s team has been doing well, but the looming match against Kettering, their biggest rivals, tightens every jaw, every shoulder.I keep my distance from Sebastian at first, pretending I’m just here to monitor, to coach, to do my job. But I feel him the moment he enters, even through the throng of bodies. His energy isn’t wild, not yet. It’s focused, sharp, simmering just under control. The bond hums faintly under my skin, reminding me that I’m tethered to him whether I acknowledge it or not.“Focus, Holt,” I mutter under my breath, not loud enough for anyone else to hear.He glances at me, eyes narrowing, lips twitching like he knows I’m speaking only to him. That’s enough to make my stomach twist.The team captain, Jared, calls a quick meeting, outlin

Forty-eight

POV: SebastianThe rink smells of fresh ice and anticipation. It’s early, just past dawn, and the stands are empty except for the cleaning crew and a few stragglers setting up the boards. I tie my skates slowly, methodically, letting the familiar rhythm calm the edge in my chest. The bond hums faintly in my chest. Rowan is nearby, somewhere beyond the glass, watching as he always does. I can feel him steady, tethered. It’s comforting and distracting all at once.Connor jogs past, smirking. “Early bird catches the puck, huh?” I glance up. “Or avoid getting yelled at by you.” He laughs, tossing a puck toward me. I catch it easily, spin it on my stick, feeling the cool metal and hard rubber grounding me. The familiar weight, the familiar routine. I’d forgotten how much I needed that. Routine. Normalcy, as close as I can get to it.Rowan’s voice cuts through my thoughts, calm but firm. “Stretch first. Don’t rush.”I glance toward the glass, catching his form leaning slightly, mug in hand.

Forty-nine

SebastianI don’t dream. That’s the first thing I notice when I wake up. No running. No blood. No heat under my skin like something trying to tear its way out. Just dark, quiet sleep and the steady awareness of my own breathing.It unsettles me more than the nightmares ever did. I lie there for a while, staring at the ceiling of the cabin, listening to the low creak of the wood as the wind moves outside. My body feels heavy, not wrong. Sore in familiar places. Thighs. Shoulders. Lower back. The kind of ache I’ve lived with since I was a teenager.Human aches.The bond hums faintly in my chest, distant but present. Rowan is awake. Not in the room. Somewhere nearby. The sensation isn’t distracting anymore. It’s just… information.I sit up slowly, running a hand over my face.Last night doesn’t rush back at me the way the ruins did. No surge of panic. No spike of heat. Just memory. Conversation. The way Rowan’s voice had gone quieter when he told me what the Order was doing beyond Duskpi

Fifty

RowanSebastian walks a half step ahead of me back to the cabin. He always does when he’s thinking.The path is narrow, packed with snow crunching under our boots. The trees on either side are still, heavy with frost. Nothing moves except us. Even the wind seems to be waiting.I let him have the silence. He needs it more than conversation right now. Inside, the cabin is cold. I shrug out of my jacket and hang it by the door, watching him do the same. He moves with the loose precision of someone who’s lived in his body his whole life and only recently realized it might not belong solely to him.“Sit,” I say.Not like an order. Like a suggestion.He does, dropping onto the edge of the couch, forearms resting on his thighs. His focus is inward. I can feel it faintly through the bond, his attention turning back on himself, testing the edges.I move to the shelves along the far wall.Most of what’s there doesn’t look dangerous. Old books. A cracked wooden box. A few jars of dried plants th

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