Filed to story: Confirming His Luna by Eyes Novel >>
Tristan catches the little roll of tape before it can hit me, and I duck out of the way of the bandages with a laugh.
“Careful,” Tristan warns, his voice equally protective and playful. “You wouldn’t want to hit the Queen, would you?”
I resist the urge to make a sour face at the title. I want to stay in this little bubble of teasing and kinship with them, avoiding reality for just a while longer. Here it is awkward, odd, simple, and safe. This strange moment is a small reminder that there are traces of joy to be found even in times of hardship.
But there is a battlefield to clean up, bodies to burn, a kingdom to put back together, and the politics of five dead Alphas to attend to.
“Don’t call me that,” I protest timidly. “I’m not, I mean, I can’t be… I-I don’t even know what to call myself.”
The Princess of the Nightwalkers. The Luna of a pack that once hated me. The mate of a male I can’t actually be with. The Queen of five armies that originally came here to kill me.
Bane. Rover. Massen. Silas. Lyall.
Who am I supposed to be now?
“About that,” Helena says as if suddenly remembering why she came up to us in the first place. “Your father is recovering in his chambers. You should come with me to check on him. I believe your mother will be waking up soon. Perhaps it is time for you to meet her.”
“Will you come with me?” I asked.
I’d been speaking to Tristan, feeling the urge to have him by my side.
Now, I’m standing outside the door of my father’s chambers with Nico leaning on Lucy to stand on his injured leg, and Mark is carrying Amara in his arms despite Helena’s protests that they should all stay back and rest. Tristan’s hand is resting on the small of my back, his touch barely there but somehow enough to steady me.
After spending most of my life feeling utterly alone, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever actually be alone again. My pack seems disinclined to allow it.
Honestly? I’m okay with that.
Helena opens the door, and my heart skips a beat as my father’s crimson gaze lands on me. He was sitting on the edge of his massive bed, gently wiping Vanessa’s brow with a damp cloth. When he sees me enter, he slides to his feet with that unnatural grace and speed of his, and in the blink of an eye, he’s standing in front of me, his worried look scanning me from head to toe to see if I’m hurt.
“I’m okay, Dad. I—”
Before I can finish, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into a tight hug. I chuckle, warmed by the stiffness lingering beneath his warm embrace.
“You’re getting better at hugs,” I say softly as he steps back to survey me once again, his hands resting on my shoulders.
“Forgive me, my brave girl. I never should have left you on that battlefield.”
“No, don’t say that.” I shake my head, swallowing the lump in my throat that forms at the sight of such guilt on his usually controlled expression. “You were hurt, and so was Vanessa. You had to get her out of there; otherwise, Viktor would have just used her against us. There is nothing else you could have done.”
If he’d stayed, Viktor would have killed them both. I glance down at his chest, which is visible below the unbuttoned collar of his loose shirt. Just as Tristan says, the vicious slices across his chest and down his abdomen are already starting to heal, his skin weaving itself back together thanks to the blood he drank from his enemies. He’ll recover in no time, but if he’d remained a minute longer on that bridge…
Nico clears his throat slightly, and my father glances over my shoulder at my companions, his eyes widening slightly in surprise.
Helena nods respectfully at her king before saying, “I tried to tell the wolves not to come, but they insisted on accompanying your daughter.”
“Of course they did,” my father replies softly, dropping his hands from my shoulders as the hint of a smile tugs at his lips.
His gaze lands on Tristan, and he clenches his jaw as if to hold back the emotions that threaten to break his perfect composure. After a moment, he takes a deep inhale and offers his arm to the Rogue Alpha.
“My clan is forever indebted to you and your pack. My condolences for the losses your people suffered. If there is anything I can do to repay you, you need only say the word. You have my thanks, Tristan Lyall, King of Outcast and Lost Wolves, Protector of the Night.”
Tristan takes Marco’s extended arm and bows his head gracefully. At another time, I would have been enchanted by the exchange, touched to see the mutual respect between the two men that loved me most in very different ways.
But I can’t help but look beyond my father, my attention landing on the unconscious woman on his bed.
“I regret the circumstances that forced us into an alliance,” Tristan replies. “But I am grateful to have fought by your side. It would be an honor to continue to do so and to help protect your people as my own.”
“The honor would be mine, but there will be time to discuss such matters later. For now, I must ask your noble entourage to excuse us. Vanessa has been through an unimaginable ordeal, and I think it best not to overwhelm her when she wakes.”
I’ve already started walking toward the bed, my feet pulling me toward the slumbering woman of their own accord. But I stop for a moment and glance back at my pack.
“Of course,” Tristan says, motioning to dismiss the others. But instead of leaving, Mark looks at me, his grey eyes searching mine as if waiting for my permission to leave.
How strange to think that a man that once seemed determined to hate and mistrust me has become someone I care for, with the Beta’s protectiveness towards his Alpha somehow extending to me.
“It’s okay. We’ll join you guys later. Go get some rest.”
“Come,” Helena adds. “I’ll show you to your rooms, and I can have another look at those cuts.”
The healer leads the Rovers away, leaving only Tristan to close the door behind them as my father returns to the bedside, gesturing for me to join him.
I walk over to where my mother lies unmoving, lingering by the foot of the bed. Now that we’re not fighting for our lives, I have the chance to finally look at Vanessa.
She’s beautiful.
Where my father’s hair is such a pale shade of platinum, it’s almost silver, hers is a warm strawberry blonde. It falls around her shoulders, sleek and silky, framing her soft features. Her skin is light from having been locked away for so many years, but even so, there’s a natural flush to her cheeks, and I wonder if Helena must have given her some sort of potion to help her heal.
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?