Chapter 4

Morning came too soon.

Aiden woke to the sound of someone knocking on the connecting door. He''d finally fallen asleep just before dawn, his body exhausted from the stress of the previous day. The wolf within him was restless, agitated by the proximity of the full moon and the presence of Alexander just on the other side of the door.

"Enter," he called, his voice rough with sleep.

The door opened, and a servant entered—not the same one from last night, but an older man with a stern expression and immaculate clothing. The head butler, if Aiden had to guess.

"His Grace requires your presence," the man said, his tone making it clear this was not a request. "You have fifteen minutes to make yourself presentable. Your duties begin today."

Aiden sat up, rubbing his eyes. "What duties?"

"You are His Grace''s personal servant. You will attend to his needs, assist with his dressing, serve his meals, and perform any tasks he requires." The butler''s eyes swept over Aiden with obvious disapproval. "You will maintain proper decorum at all times. You will speak only when spoken to. You will address His Grace as ''Your Grace'' or ''my lord.'' Is that understood?"

Aiden nodded. "Understood."

"Fifteen minutes," the butler repeated, then left, closing the door behind him.

Aiden dressed quickly in the clothes from last night—the fine trousers, shirt, and waistcoat. He washed his face in the basin, the cold water shocking him awake. His reflection in the small mirror showed dark circles under his eyes, but the silver flecks were still visible, a constant reminder of what he was.

When he entered Alexander''s chambers, the Duke was already dressed and seated at his desk, going through correspondence. He looked up as Aiden entered, his expression unreadable.

"You''re late," Alexander said.

"My apologies, Your Grace."

Alexander studied him for a moment, then returned to his papers. "Today you will observe. Learn how things are done in this household. Sebastian will show you."

"Sebastian?"

"My valet. He''s been with me for ten years. He knows my preferences." Alexander''s pen scratched across paper. "You will watch, you will learn, and you will not speak unless spoken to. Understood?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

Aiden spent the morning shadowing Sebastian, a man in his forties with a quiet efficiency that spoke of long experience. Sebastian showed him how to lay out Alexander''s clothing, how to prepare his shaving kit, how to organize his papers. All without speaking more than necessary.

But Aiden''s attention kept drifting to Alexander. To the way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he held himself. It was all so familiar, and yet so different. This was the man he''d trained, the man he''d loved, but hardened by years of power and responsibility.

And the memories kept intruding.

FLASH.

Allen Silvermoon stood in a forest clearing, watching as a young Alexander practiced sword forms. The boy was sixteen, all limbs and intensity, his movements still rough but showing promise.

"Again," Allen said. "And this time, keep your guard up. You''re leaving your left side open."

Alexander wiped sweat from his brow. "It''s hot. Can''t we take a break?"

"The enemy won''t give you a break because it''s hot." Allen stepped forward, adjusting Alexander''s grip on the practice sword. "Fingers here. Thumb there. Feel the balance."

His hands lingered on Alexander''s for a moment too long. The contact sent a jolt through him, one he tried to ignore. Alexander was his apprentice. His student. Nothing more.

But when he looked up, Alexander was watching him with an intensity that had nothing to do with sword practice.

FLASH.

Aiden blinked, shaking his head to clear it. He was in Alexander''s dressing room, holding a pair of boots that needed polishing. Sebastian was speaking to him, but the words seemed distant, muffled.

"Are you listening?" Sebastian asked, frowning.

"Sorry," Aiden said. "I was... distracted."

Sebastian''s expression softened slightly. "The first day is always the hardest. You''ll get used to it."

But Aiden knew it wasn''t the work that was distracting him. It was the past, pushing its way into the present.

The day passed in a blur of tasks and observations. Aiden learned the rhythm of the castle, the hierarchy of the staff, the unspoken rules that governed everything. He learned that Alexander was a demanding but fair master, that he worked late into the night, that he rarely smiled.

And he learned that the headaches Alexander had mentioned were getting worse.

He saw it in the afternoon, when Alexander was meeting with his steward. One moment he was discussing estate matters, the next his hand went to his temple, his face paling.

"Your Grace?" the steward asked, concerned.

"It''s nothing," Alexander said, but his voice was tight with pain. "Continue."

Aiden, standing by the door as instructed, felt a surge of concern. It was an unfamiliar feeling—concern for the man who had killed him. But the man in those memories, the young Alexander he''d trained and loved, was still in there somewhere.

FLASH.

They were by a campfire, the night cold and clear. Alexander was twenty now, no longer a boy but not yet a man. They''d been on the road for weeks, tracking a pack of werewolves that had been terrorizing a village.

"Why do you do this?" Alexander asked, staring into the flames. "Hunt creatures like... like me?"

Allen looked up sharply. "You''re not a creature, Alexander. You''re human."

"Am I?" Alexander''s smile was bitter. "Sometimes I wonder. Sometimes I feel... different. Like there''s something inside me that doesn''t belong."

Allen didn''t know how to answer that. He''d noticed it too—the way Alexander moved with unnatural grace, the way his senses were sharper than they should be. But he''d put it down to good training. Now he wasn''t so sure.

"Come here," he said instead.

Alexander moved to sit beside him. The firelight played over his features, making him look younger, more vulnerable.

"Whatever you are," Allen said softly, "it doesn''t change who you are. You''re a good man, Alexander. A good hunter. And my..." He trailed off, not sure how to finish.

"Your what?" Alexander prompted.

Allen didn''t answer. Instead, he reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from Alexander''s forehead. The touch lingered, became something more. His hand cupped Alexander''s cheek, thumb stroking the line of his jaw.

And then Alexander was kissing him.

It wasn''t gentle or hesitant. It was hungry, desperate, as if he''d been waiting for this moment for years. And Allen responded in kind, his control shattering. The kiss deepened, became something wild and consuming.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathing heavily.

"I''ve wanted to do that for a long time," Alexander whispered.

"So have I," Allen admitted. "But it''s wrong. I''m your teacher. You''re my apprentice."

"I don''t care." Alexander''s eyes were dark with desire. "I don''t care about any of that. I only care about you."

FLASH.

"Aiden."

The voice pulled him back to the present. Alexander was standing in front of him, frowning.

"You were... somewhere else," Alexander said. His headache seemed to have passed, but he looked tired. "What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing, Your Grace," Aiden said automatically.

"Don''t lie to me." Alexander''s voice was low, dangerous. "I saw your face. You were remembering something. Weren''t you?"

Aiden hesitated. Then he nodded. "Yes."

"What?"

"A campfire. A conversation. A..." He trailed off, not sure how much to say.

"A kiss," Alexander finished for him. His expression was strange, haunted. "I remember it too. Just now, while I was watching you. It came to me like a... like a waking dream."

They stood there in the dressing room, surrounded by fine clothing and polished boots, and for a moment they were back in that forest, by that campfire, two different people in two different lives.

"Who were we?" Alexander asked, his voice barely a whisper. "In those memories. Who were we to each other?"

"You know the answer to that," Aiden said.

"Tell me anyway."

"You were my apprentice. My student. And then..." Aiden took a breath. "And then you were more. Much more."

Alexander''s eyes searched his face. "And I killed you."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Orders," Aiden said, repeating the word Alexander had used in the forest clearing. "You said you were following orders."

"Whose orders?"

"The Council. The organization we worked for. They decided I''d gone soft. That I was too close to the creatures we hunted." A bitter smile touched Aiden''s lips. "They were right, in a way. I was close to one particular creature. You."

Alexander turned away, running a hand through his hair. "This is madness. All of it. Werewolves. Reincarnation. Memories that aren''t mine."

"Or maybe it''s the truth," Aiden said softly. "Maybe the world is stranger than we want to believe."

Silence fell between them. The only sound was the distant chiming of a clock somewhere in the castle.

Finally, Alexander spoke. "Sebastian tells me you learned quickly today. That you''re observant. Quiet."

"I''ve had training," Aiden said. "In observation. In patience."

"From me," Alexander said, not a question.

"Yes."

Another silence. Then Alexander said, "Tomorrow, you''ll begin taking on some of Sebastian''s duties. Starting with helping me dress in the morning."

Aiden nodded. "As you wish, Your Grace."

Alexander studied him for a long moment. "You don''t have to call me that when we''re alone. Not if... not if what you''re saying is true."

"What should I call you, then?"

"Alexander." The name sounded strange coming from his own lips, as if he hadn''t used it in a long time. "Just Alexander."

"Aiden," Aiden offered in return.

A faint smile touched Alexander''s lips. It was the first real smile Aiden had seen from him. "Aiden," he repeated. "It suits you. Better than Allen, I think."

"Allen was... harder. Older. Aiden is younger. Softer."

"Not soft," Alexander said. "I saw what you did to Grubb. That wasn''t soft."

"It was necessary."

"I know." Alexander''s expression turned serious. "Speaking of Grubb. He''s been asking questions. Trying to find out more about you. About why I paid double for a werewolf servant."

Aiden''s senses sharpened. "What kind of questions?"

"Where you came from. Who your family was. Whether you have any... special abilities beyond the obvious." Alexander''s eyes met his. "He''s planning something. I can feel it."

"Let him plan," Aiden said, a low growl entering his voice without him meaning it to. "I can handle Grubb."

"I don''t doubt it." Alexander''s smile returned, this time with an edge to it. "But be careful. Grubb has connections. In the city. In the church. He could cause trouble."

"I''ll be careful."

"Good." Alexander turned back to his desk. "That''s all for today. You may go."

Aiden bowed slightly and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Aiden?"

He paused, looking back.

"Tonight," Alexander said, his voice casual, as if discussing the weather. "The moon will be full. Will you... be all right?"

The concern in his voice, so unexpected, sent a warmth through Aiden that had nothing to do with the wolf within him.

"I don''t know," he said honestly. "This will be my first full moon in this body. I don''t know what will happen."

Alexander nodded. "If you need anything. If it gets... difficult. My door is always open."

"Thank you," Aiden said, and meant it.

He returned to his room, his mind whirling with memories and possibilities. The past was colliding with the present, and he had no idea where it would lead.

But one thing was certain: the moon was rising, and the wolf was waiting.

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