Chapter 4 — The Moonstone Mansion

Godiva

By the time we left Sycamore Heights behind, my body finally stopped shaking—but the hollow numbness stayed. The city lights smeared across the car window like molten gold, blurring into streaks I didn’t want to focus on.

Somewhere behind us lay the shattered remains of Unit 10, the dead guard, the scent of fear and blood. And all of it—every terrible piece—was because something out there was hunting me.

Castor sat beside me in the back seat. Silent.

Alert in a way that made me feel like the darkness outside the car wasn’t empty at all.

The warrior—Pippo—drove without speaking, his eyes fixed on the road, shoulders tense like he expected something to leap from the shadows.

“So it was after me?”

His knuckles flexed. “When I marked you, the scent changed. Your blood… your presence… everything that makes you you—it amplified. And bloodsuckers are drawn to new marks like sharks to spilled blood.”

A cold chill slithered down my spine.

“Are you saying it would’ve attacked me?”

“Yes,” he said simply. “It already tried.”I pulled the seatbelt tighter. “Then why didn’t it take me earlier?”

His gaze flickered to me—sharp, golden, protective in a way that made my chest twist.

“Because I got to you first.”

The car fell silent again.

But something inside me—fear, confusion, maybe both—wouldn’t let the quiet soothe me.

“So what am I now?” I whispered. “Bait?”

Castor’s expression hardened. “No. You’re mine to protect. And I don’t fail what’s mine.”

I looked away quickly. The word mine always hit like a punch—heavy, possessive, too intimate.

Yet… I didn’t hate how it sounded tonight.

**

Minutes later, Pippo turned onto a road flanked by towering trees. The branches arched overhead, forming a dark cathedral of shadows. Wind rushed between them, carrying scents I couldn’t place—earthy, metallic, wild.

My pulse spiked. “Where are we going?”

“To the heart of my territory,” Castor answered. “You’re not safe anywhere else.”

“So I’m supposed to just live with strangers?”

His tone dipped lower. “You’ll be with my pack, not strangers.”

“That’s worse,” I muttered.

Castor’s lips twitched for the first time since the attack—like he found my terror mildly adorable. Infuriating man.

He leaned closer, voice dropping. “You’re safe as long as you’re with me. You have my word.”

I turned properly this time—and realized he wasn’t smirking. He meant it.

Dead serious.

That scared me more than the bloodsucker.

The forest abruptly parted.

My breath hitched.

A massive mansion rose at the center of a moonlit clearing—white stone walls, tall windows glowing warm gold, and two towering pillars guarding the entrance like ancient sentinels. The night sky framed it perfectly, stars scattered behind the roof as if the house had been carved straight out of the darkness itself.

It looked like something from another world.

Pippo parked near the steps. Before I could reach for the door handle, Castor was already outside, opening it for me.

“Welcome to your new home,” he said.

I snorted. “That’s optimistic.”

He didn’t deny it—just motioned toward the entrance with a softness I wasn’t prepared for.

Despite everything inside me screaming run, my feet moved.

Warm lights spilled across the marble foyer as we stepped in. A chandelier glimmered overhead like a constellation of glass stars. Servants moved quietly along the hall, their eyes respectfully lowered.

One of them—a woman in crisp uniform—bowed deeply.

“Alpha Castor.”

Then her gaze slid cautiously to me.

“Luna.”

I flinched. “I’m not—”

“You are,” Castor said, voice smooth but firm. “Accepting it can come later.”

I shot him a glare. “Stop calling me that.”

He ignored me. Pippo hid a grin. I hated both of them.

**

Castor led me up the grand staircase, his steps too light for such a big frame. I followed reluctantly, gripping my suitcase so hard the handle dug into my palm.

As we reached the second floor, I noticed doors lining the halls—some with guards, some with strange carvings etched onto the wood.

“What is this place, really?” I asked.

“A sanctuary,” he replied. “A fortress. A home. Depends on who you ask.”

“And to me?”

His eyes softened briefly. “To you? A safe beginning.”

My heart stuttered. I hated that he could affect me with just a tone.

We reached a room near the end of the corridor. Castor pushed the door open.

Inside, warm lamplight illuminated a spacious bedroom with cream walls, soft blankets, and a giant window overlooking the moonlit forest. Exhaustion hit me hard just standing there.

“This is yours,” he said. “You’ll stay here until we figure out how to protect you properly.”

“Protect me from what?” I whispered.

He opened his mouth—but a low howl cut through the night, echoing from deep in the woods.

My entire body froze.

Castor listened for a moment, then nodded to himself. “They’re running patrol. Making sure no one followed us.”

“No one like… that thing from my house?”

“Exactly like that thing,” he said.

My stomach dropped. “Are you saying more could come?”

His gaze locked onto mine.

“They will.”

“And you brought me here?!”

“To protect you,” he repeated. “Where else would you go?”

I opened my mouth—then closed it. I didn’t have an answer.

Finally, he stepped closer, lowering his voice to a murmur.

“Godiva… you’re marked. The bond ties you to me whether you believe in it or not. That connection alone paints a target on your back.”

His eyes glowed faintly—gold mixing with something deeper, darker.

“I won’t let anyone touch you.”

I swallowed hard, heat flooding my neck for reasons I didn’t want to dissect.

“Just… keep your distance,” I whispered. “I can’t think when you stand too close.”

Instead of being offended, his lips curved.

“But you are thinking about me.”

“Castor—”

“I’ll keep my distance,” he said softly, stepping back. “For now.”

He turned toward the door.

“Rest. I’ll have Doctor Cian check your injuries soon.”

“Wait,” I called before I could stop myself.

He paused.

“What happens now?”

Castor’s eyes glowed again—just a flicker—but enough to melt the breath from my lungs.

“Now,” he said, voice low and certain,

“we prepare. Because someone out there wants a human blood.”

His gaze sharpened like a blade.

“And they won’t stop until they get you.”

He shut the door behind him, leaving me alone in the warm, too-quiet room with nothing but moonlight and fear curling around me like smoke.

And somewhere outside… another howl rose.

I curled my fingers around the bedsheet, heart hammering.

Maybe this is my beginning, but I won’t admitted it until I lived in peace.

Chapter 5 — The Twin (Narrative Revision)

Godiva

The night in Moonstone Mansion felt heavier than any darkness I’d ever known. It wasn’t just the unfamiliar silence or the vastness of the bedroom—it was the strange, living pulse beneath my skin, the lingering heat at the mark on my neck, and the unsettling awareness that something inside me had shifted in ways I didn’t yet understand.

I lay awake long after the house had settled. Cold moonlight washed across the room through the tall window, turning the floor silver and the shadows deeper. Every time I closed my eyes, the memory of Castor’s glowing gaze flickered behind my eyelids—the moment he bit me, the way the world spun afterward, the inexplicable pull I felt whenever he came too close. None of it made sense, yet all of it lingered like a whisper I couldn’t quite tune out.

Eventually the restlessness grew unbearable. I slipped out of bed and crossed the room, drawn to the window as though fresh air might calm the storm inside me. Outside, the courtyard stretched wide and quiet, guarded by dark silhouettes of wolves pacing along the perimeter. Their movement was fluid, purposeful—nothing like the chaotic danger I’d escaped earlier. Moonstone was a world of its own, governed by laws I hadn’t learned yet, and I wasn’t sure if I belonged to it or was being swallowed by it.

I pressed my fingers lightly over the bandage on my neck. The skin felt warmer there, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat that wasn’t entirely mine. Castor had called it a mark, something ancient and binding. Something instinctual to his kind.

A soft sound slipped from my mouth, half a groan, half a sigh.

“This is insane. Completely insane.”

I closed the window, letting the curtains fall back into place. The room dimmed, leaving only the moon’s outline brushing the furniture. I climbed into bed again, though I knew sleep would not come easily.

I had barely settled when the door creaked open.

Not loudly—not enough to jolt me—but quietly, the way someone enters a room when they don’t want to be caught wanting to be there.

“Godiva?”

His voice carried through the dark like warm smoke. Not commanding. Just soft enough that my pulse tripped.

I pushed myself up on my elbows, breath held without meaning to. Castor stepped inside, the faint light catching the edges of his hair and broad shoulders. He looked different from earlier—looser somehow, as though the weight of the night had worn him down, softening the hardness in his expression. His white shirt clung to the wetness at his collarbone, suggesting he’d only just showered.

“I thought you were sleeping,” he said quietly as he approached.

“I tried,” I admitted. “Turns out being bitten by a werewolf doesn’t make for the best bedtime routine.”

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips, but it faded quickly. He moved slowly, as if measuring the right distance between us before stopping near the foot of the bed.

“Is it hurting?” he asked, his gaze flickering to my neck.

“Hurting? No. Confusing? Absolutely.”

He exhaled slowly, and for the first time since I’d met him, he seemed unsure of himself. Castor, the Alpha, suddenly looked as if he didn’t know where to place his hands.

“You shouldn’t be awake,” he murmured. “You’ve had too much thrown at you.”

“So have you.”

That caught him off guard. His eyes snapped to mine again—sharp, golden, searching. I felt the same pull I had felt earlier, that invisible string tethering us in ways I didn’t choose yet couldn’t deny.

“Godiva…” His voice was lower now, tinged with a rasp that slid like velvet down my spine. “When I’m near you, everything in me strains. Trying to control it feels like fighting gravity.”

“Then don’t stand so close,” I whispered. “I can’t think properly when you do that.”

That earned a quiet laugh from him—warm, genuine, almost boyish in a way that felt dangerously intimate. “And you think distance will help you think clearly?”

“I’d like to try.”

“Then I’ll give you distance,” he said, but he didn’t move away. “I just needed to see you. After what happened tonight… I needed to know you were safe.”

The sincerity in his voice wrapped around me more tightly than his hands ever could.

My heart thudded once, then again.

“Castor,” I breathed, “why did you really bite me?”

His composure slipped. The mask he always wore cracked open, revealing something rawer, darker.

“Because something in me recognized you the moment I saw you,” he said. “There was no room for hesitation. No room for thought. My wolf surged forward and claimed you before I could stop him.”

I swallowed hard as the air thickened around us. The meaning of his confession hit me slowly, like warmth seeping through cold bones.

“That doesn’t make it right,” I whispered.

“No,” he agreed, “but it makes it real.”

His gaze dipped to my lips, lingering there as if he were fighting the urge to close the distance. The atmosphere shifted, tightening with a magnetic pull I couldn’t breathe around.

“Castor…” I said again, though my voice barely carried the word.

Before I could say more, he moved closer—not abruptly, but with a deliberate slowness, as though giving me every chance to pull away. The bed dipped under his weight as he sat beside me, his presence enveloping but not overwhelming.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “But I’ve spent the last hour trying to pretend I can ignore this bond. I can’t.”

He reached for me, hesitation flickering just before his fingers brushed my cheek. His touch was warm, steady, unbearably gentle. I leaned into it before I realized what I was doing.

His breath mingled with mine. Heat coiled low in my stomach. My body moved without my permission, leaning into him like he was the one gravity had been leading me toward all along.

His lips met mine.

Not hurried. Not claiming. Just soft at first—tentative, exploring, as if memorizing the shape of me. I gasped quietly, and something in him snapped. The kiss deepened, his mouth molding against mine in a slow, consuming rhythm that made the world fall away, leaving only warmth and heat and breath.

My hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer, as though my body recognized him even if my mind screamed for space.

“Godiva…” he murmured against my lips, his breath unsteady. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

I was about to ask him a question, but his hand was already covering my mouth.

"I want you to be quiet and not say much.”

I nodded.

Castor had already removed his hand from my mouth, replacing it with a sighing, demanding kiss. His kiss felt different, but I was already lulled by his tongue inside my mouth.

For the first time, I became bold and moved closer to him first. The warmth of his body clinging to my chest.

Castor buried his head in my chest. He played with his mouth until it left a wet spot on my T-shirt.

This is crazy! I almost moaned Castor's name when he slipped his fingers up my skirt past the fabric framing my thighs.

"I..."

"I said don't make a sound!"

I obeyed. My lips pressed together and gripped the sleeve of his T-shirt. I could feel the wetness of my intimate parts.

The sensation was so intense that I was tingling with something that wanted to burst out of me. I held back the sighing sound of my own. It's so hard to do when my brain can't work normally.

Castor move his hand away from mine. I couldn't see his face clearly due to the lack of lighting.

"You like it?"

I nodded, again. After that, Castor intensified his touch on every sensitive spot on my body. I almost went crazy from the sensation.

My underwear moving away from my waist and slowly toward my toes. I didn't feel any barriers anymore. Likewise, my T-shirt had slipped off my body.

The pressure was on my chest, wet and squishy. As I lowered my face, Castor's head with his hair between my fingers, already fully immersed in my breasts.

I savored his every touch and kept going until it was his that broke through my last defense. It hurt, but it also felt good until I lifted my head. My nails dug into his bare back until I heard him groan under his breath.

For the next few minutes, only a thin sigh escaped me and a stifled growl from his mouth that was close to my face. We did it for the first time after a rough day. I lay exhausted on the bed as Castor pulled his body away from mine.

"You got me drunk, Godiva," he said with his breath still coming in.He kissed me again—slower this time, unbearably tender—before pressing his forehead to mine.

And then, just as I began to lose myself again, he stilled.

He drew back slightly, and I noticed the change instantly. The warmth in his eyes had vanished, replaced by a colder awareness. The energy in the room tightened, shifting subtly, but unmistakably.

My heart skipped.

“…Castor?” I whispered.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead he studied me with a look that didn’t feel like Castor at all—not the protective intensity, not the quiet tenderness, none of the jagged emotion he wore so openly.

This look was sharper. Cooler.

Calculating.

When he finally spoke, the tone cut through the haze like a blade.

“My brother said something about your scent, didn’t he?”

The breath left my lungs.

“Y-your brother…?”

He leaned in, and though his lips brushed my skin, the warmth behind the gesture was gone. The voice that followed slid over my ear like silk hiding steel.

“Let me introduce myself properly.”

A chill swept through me, prickling every inch of my skin.

“The name,” he whispered, “is Pollux—the twin.”

The world lurched—my pulse, my breath, my thoughts stumbling over the truth settling like ice in my chest.

This wasn’t Castor.

His twin was in my bed.

Godiva

"No! What have I done?"

I jolted upright, heart racing as I fumbled for the light switch. The dimness disappeared as the room lit up, revealing a familiar face—Castor, or so I thought. But then I saw it: the piercing on his eyebrow.

It wasn't Castor.

The truth hit me like a sledgehammer. Pollux. His twin. Identical. I covered my mouth, overwhelmed by disbelief, my mind spinning. How could I not have noticed? I stood frozen, naked before him, too shocked to care about my exposed vulnerability.

"What just happened? Why did you do that to me? How could you be so cruel?"

I can't think straight. Everything happened so fast, and I let myself get swept up in it. Now, I feel sick to my core—disgusted with myself for letting it happen.

His eyes lingered on me—unblinking, hungry. The air between us thickened with silent tension.

"One thing I love in a girl is innocence, in all its forms. I’m surprised Castor hasn’t marked you yet. Guess I got lucky first." Pollux smirked, his voice dripping with arrogance.

"Pollux," I seethed, barely able to speak through the rising bile in my throat. "You're disgusting!"

"There are only two types of men in this world: assholes or gay men," he shrugged nonchalantly. "I’m no saint, and I’m definitely not gay."

My hands shook as I scrambled to dress, trying to block out his presence, his words. But his smacking lips, his audacity, made me want to scream. I could feel the tears welling, but I swallowed them down, fighting the storm inside me.

"I hate you!" I spat, my voice cracking as the tears finally fell. I sat on the edge of the bed, trembling, my back to him. I buried my face in my hands, letting the sobs escape.

I felt him move, his hand tilting my chin upwards. He was fully dressed now, wearing that same smug expression. I hated how he made me feel—violated, powerless.

"I'll remember this night forever, sweet pea," he whispered. His words felt like a brand on my skin.

In a surge of anger, I slapped him. The sound echoed in the room, my hand stinging from the impact. He touched his cheek, looking more amused than hurt. The satisfaction was fleeting as he caught my wrist before I could strike again.

"I'd rather those hands touch me with something other than hate. Next time, don't pretend you didn't enjoy it."

"There won't be a next time," I hissed, our faces inches apart. "I swear."

Pollux smirked, but there was an edge to his gaze, a warning. He released my hand and walked out. The weight of what had just happened crushed me. Everything I'd hoped for, everything I'd promised myself—to save that part of me for someone I loved—was gone.

Castor.

The events from earlier keep spiraling in my mind. I’m lost—I don’t know how to face this, let alone explain it to Castor. Pollux’s sudden appearance and his intentions caught me completely off guard, something I never could have imagined.

I had to leave. I couldn’t face him, not after this. But as I zipped my suitcase, his voice stopped me cold.

"Don't even think about leaving, Godiva."

I turned to find him standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

"Castor... I didn’t know. I swear I didn’t know."

My voice trembled, guilt flooding every word. I couldn’t even look at him. I squeezed the fabric of my skirt, waiting for him to speak, to condemn me for what I’d done.

Instead, he stepped closer. "Can I touch you?"

His words made my heart ache. He was asking permission—so different from his brother. I nodded, tears streaming down my face as he pulled me into his arms.

"I didn’t tell you the full truth about Pollux," he said softly, stroking my hair. "I should’ve warned you."

"I'm ashamed," I whispered. "I betrayed you."

Castor gently pulled away, wiping the tears from my cheeks. His touch was tender, and it only made me feel worse.

"Rest now," he murmured. "We’ll talk tomorrow. I promise it will be okay."

"But I—"

"Shh," he insisted, his voice soothing. "Sleep. Everything will be fine."

Reluctantly, I obeyed. I crawled back into bed, my heart heavy. Castor pulled the blanket over me, kissed my forehead, and left. I lay there in the dark, trying to push away the horrors of the day. But the guilt, the shame—it wouldn’t leave.

I eventually drifted into restless sleep.

Pollux PoV.

A knock at the door interrupted the stillness in my room. I knew who it was before I even answered.

Castor walked in, his gaze icy. He didn't sit, just stood there, the dominant force between us even though we were equals in every other way. I leaned back, waiting for his reprimand.

"Mark her soon," he said coldly. "She’s not one of the girls you toy with, Pollux. I’m angry, but I’m holding back. If you hurt her again, I won’t."

His jaw tightened, and I knew he meant every word. He would fight me if it came to that. Not that I blamed him. Godiva was different, but I wasn’t ready to admit it yet. My past with Benedetta—my mistrust of women—it held me back.

"I’ll try," I muttered. "But you know why I’m hesitant."

"That doesn’t excuse hurting her. She’s your second chance, Pollux." I saw some anger on his face.

He was right. As much as I hated to admit it.

"We'll talk about the vampire problem tomorrow. For now, get some sleep," he said, his voice laced with exhaustion.

But sleep was the last thing on my mind.

As I lay there, Godiva’s scent still clung to me—sweet, intoxicating. It drove me wild, made me lose control. And then, something else caught my attention.

A scent. Faint but unmistakable. I shot out of bed, moving toward the window, pulling the curtains aside to peer into the darkness.

"Vampire," I muttered, a shiver running down my spine.