Filed to story: Confirming His Luna by Eyes Novel >>
‘Then why did you declare war?’
I ask it without thinking, the question slipping out almost of its own accord, and I know from the way he winces that he can feel my hurt behind the words.
‘I know I betrayed you by leaving like that, but the nightwalkers have been good to me. They don’t-‘
‘I didn’t declare war on the vampires.’
His thought cuts through my own like a hot knife sliding through butter. His tail flicks in frustration, ears twitching. I quirk my head to the side, and this time I’m the one that’s confused.
‘But the yellow tansies…’ I reply, glancing over my shoulder at the petals crushed on the stone bridge.
‘They were meant to be a warning, not a threat. War is coming, little flower, but I am not the one who is starting it.’
I don’t understand. A red rose or tulip means love. Begonias mean beware. Yellow tansies mean war.
I thought I was an expert in deriving meaning from flowers, but perhaps I misinterpreted.
What was he trying to tell me?
Before I can ask him, my father clears his throat in that polite, awkward manner of his, buttoning up his jacket and straightening himself out.
“I believe a truce is in order,” he says out loud, his tone unnaturally calm and controlled, considering he was just engaged in battle against a werewolf that almost tore his throat out. “We all have a great deal to talk about, and I may not trust you, King of Rogues, but I trust my daughter. For her sake, you and your friends are welcome to join us in the castle. No combat, just conversation.”
Tristsan’s eyes narrow as he looks between my father and me. He doesn’t know what to believe, and neither do I anymore. I thought I was protecting the people I love. I thought I was doing the right thing, but somehow I only managed to make things worse.
No more.
‘Please, my king… Tristan… Let me make things right. I know I don’t deserve your trust, but I am asking you for it nonetheless. Give me a chance to explain everything.’
Marco sighs, sensing Tristan’s hesitation. “I swear on my daughter’s heart and on my honor as Night King, no harm will come to you and your friends in my court. That is, so long as you don’t try to kill me again.”
The golden-eyed wolf huffs in response as if to say ‘fair enough.’
From behind him, a familiar, high-pitched voice calls out across the distance, and I almost smile to myself on the inside.
“Are you guys done with the fighting and intense staring?” Lucy yells from the other side of the bridge. The Rovers’ inner circle has been watching from the sidelines, waiting for orders from their leader. But it seems they are tired of waiting. “Nico is getting cold, and I have questions!”
Mark gives his sister an angry shove to silence her, and even from this far away, I can hear Nico chuckling. I look back at Tristan and feel myself relax as his expression softens.
The worst is over.
Now, we talk. Now, I tell him the whole truth. Now, he gets to decide what comes next for us.
No more holding back.
In the aftermath of the excitement on the bridge, Tristan and his inner circle are allowed into the court of the nightwalkers. My father graciously gives everyone some time to collect themselves, which includes me shifting back into my human form.
The change comes easily, intuitively, but even as I return to my old body, I can still feel the effects of the transformation. Whatever shifted inside of me goes beyond skin deep, and in my human form, I can still feel the spirit of my wolf. It settles within me, a wild animal making itself at home inside my soul after a lifetime in dormant captivity.
Helena brings me a new outfit after my transformation shredded through my old clothes and informs me that the Rovers have been given a room in the castle. They have been provided with food and water as well as warm clothes. Once we’re ready, we are to gather in the war room to discuss… well… everything.
I thank the nightwalker healer with a small smile before she leaves. Before getting dressed, I walk over to the window of my room. Outside, the forest is still littered with tents filled with an army of werewolves that are ready for a battle I hope will never come. I shut the window and examine my reflection in the glass, feeling a pang at the sight of the crescent-shaped mark on my chest.
I’ve changed a lot in the past few months. My sandy blonde hair is longer, going down to my waist, and there’s a healthy shine to it I never had while living with the Banes. My skin is still pale, but there’s a healthy glow to it, and there are no longer dark circles under my eyes despite the confusing sleep schedule of the nightwalkers. My hunger-panged frame has filled in after my time with the Rovers, and while I still have a small frame, I’m no longer skin and bone. Instead, there are soft curves along my body and muscles from my training with Amara.
But the damned mark is still there.
All the growth and healing with the Rovers, feeding for the first time, manifesting my wolf… none of it was enough to erase the curse that was tied to my very existence.
With a sigh, I slip into the clothes Helena brought. This time, the nightwalkers provided me with a sleek woman’s suit with a jacket that was tailored to perfection. It has a slim, single-breasted silhouette that hugs the curves of my body, the fabric soft and comfortable. The pants are similarly sleek and streamlined, with a straight leg and a high waist that flatters my figure. The fabric is stretchy and breathable, allowing for ease of movement. Black, just like my father’s.
Once I’m dressed and feeling as composed as I’ll ever be, I make my way to the war room, where my father waits outside the closed doors.
“Are they all inside already?” I ask, my heart thundering in my chest. Facing Tristan on the bridge and seeing the others in the distance had been one thing. But the thought of being properly reunited with them made my heart ache. I did not know if they will be happy to see me or if they will hate me for all the trouble I’ve caused.
“Not all of them,” my father replies cautiously, watching me closely for a reaction. “I thought you might want a moment alone with your Rogue Alpha first. Once you’re ready, you can call out to me through our link, and I’ll send for the others.”
“Thank you.” I nod politely and move towards the door, but I hesitate.
After a moment, I turn to face my father, this strange, elegant, immortal creature that nearly died for me less than an hour ago. When I was a little girl, and I still dared to dream of a family, I used to try to picture what my parents were like. Oscar and Viktor had eventually beaten such fanciful thoughts out of my head, but I could still remember the image in my mind.
The Night King is nothing like it. His blood-red eyes are too old, and the rest of his face too young. He’s too stiff and stuffy, and there is still so much we don’t know about each other.
But he loves me. He understands me as much as he can, and he trusts me, even if it’s reluctantly. He respects my choices, and he truly wants to do right by me.
No, Marco Silas is not at all the kind of father I might have imagined once. He’s better than that. He’s real. He’s mine.
I reach out and grab his icy hand and squeeze it softly, hoping he knows how grateful I am.
He smiles sadly at me, his gaze flickering down to the place over my heart where the mark is concealed by my clothes. “I am sorry that my love cost you yours, child,” he replies softly, letting his hand slide out of mine. “Take as long as you need.”
I turn away from him and head into the war room, glancing out at my father one last time before closing the door behind me. He knows that I have to face what comes next alone.
Well, not completely alone.
Once I’ve shut the door, I turn to face my mate. I could sense him across the room, but I still suck in a breath when I see him.
His hair is even messier than before, chestnut strands framing his chiseled jawline and accentuating his sharp features. The nightwalkers have given him new clothes as well. Every inch of his muscular frame is sheathed in black, from his fitted button-down shirt that clings to his broad chest and powerful shoulders to his sleek black pants that hug his strong thighs and emphasize his muscular build.
From the first moment I met him, I thought he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen, rugged and graceful all at once. But dressed in the nightwalker’s signature black, I can’t decide if he looks like a mysterious, dark prince or the sinfully attractive bad boy of a romance novel.
He looks at me with that concerned, appraising sort of scan I’ve become familiar with, like his amber eyes need to take in every inch of my body.
“Well? Say something,” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “Tristan…”
His name is like a prayer on my lips, but before I can muster up the apology I’ve been trying to formulate in my head from the moment I saw him on that bridge, he storms across the room, closing the distance between us.
He throws his strong arms around me, pulling me into an embrace with such force that I nearly stumble forward into his chest. For a second, I’m too stunned to move or speak, and I just stand there with a lump in my throat as he hugs me tightly. His body is warm and solid against my own, and it wraps around me like I was made to fit into him.
I breathe in his scent of honey and smoke, melting against him and returning his embrace. I don’t know how long we stand there, clinging to each other as if our lives depended on it. I can feel his heart beating through his shirt, a sound that seeps into my skin and echoes my own.
New Book: Veiled Desires of the Alpha King Novel
Dayson was the alpha of the largest pack in North America. Powerful figures from other packs sought to offer gorgeous girls as potential mates for Dayson. He steadfastly rejected these advances, he was not a pawn to be manipulated. But eventually there came a mysterious girl he could hardly say No. Who was she?