Filed to story: Confirming His Luna by Eyes Novel >>
When I asked her about it one day, she merely shrugged with a sheepish little smile.
“I’ve never been very good at… talking,” she said, shaking her head in a way that made her long blonde waves bounce around her face. “But flowers can speak volumes. They have meaning, you know? I once found a book in my uncle’s library about how flowers were used to send messages many years ago. There’s a whole language growing in your garden. Sometimes I think I’m better with plants than with people… It’s silly, but… flowers I’m good at.”
She proceeded to explain that a begonia could be a warning, and rosemary is a sign of remembrance. Morning glory and ivy mean affection and friendship, and myrtle is a wish for good luck. One could even declare love with a red tulip and proclaim war with a tansy.
I don’t remember much beyond that, but I remember how the girl’s eyes shone when she talked about it.
We have not been close since that night when her mark glowed in the bath, though I can still taste her damp lips when I close my eyes. Perhaps that is also why I tasked Amara with her training and Sophie with her tutoring.
I do not trust myself around her.
I cannot tell whether it’s the mating bond or just… her. But being around her has become increasingly intoxicating. Her soft curves and gentle hand, her plump lips and their kind smile, her wide, haunting eyes full of secrets and sorrow and so much hope underneath it all. Soft and sweet as a petal.
Sometimes I worry I’ll lose myself in the scent of her, in the sensation of having her near me. Other times, when nights become cold, and my thoughts of her grow hot, I feel as though I could crush her with how much I want her. On those nights when I find myself longing to have her by my side, I remember the scars on her skin. I think of the mark on her chest, and the notion of her pain is enough to make me burn in an entirely different way.
Underneath it all, I can’t shake a single foreboding uncertainty in the back of my mind.
Is this what killed my father?
The question scratches against my thoughts like nails on a chalkboard.
This girl is the niece of an Alpha I despise. Her past is shrouded in mystery, and even though Sophie insists she is essential for the future of the Rovers and we must be patient, the questions are starting to pile up. There is so much we don’t know about her, and so much I don’t understand.
But for the first time, I understand why my father did not discover my mother’s betrayal sooner. My flower could be poison, and I’d still fight to protect her. I’d fight for her with everything that I am, and it terrifies me. There’s an almost primal need within me to see her safe and cared for. To see her happy.
But my mother was once my father’s fate. She was his wife and his mate, marked and bonded. He’d looked to her in the end when his treacherous Beta prepared to strike the killing blow. My father had looked at my mother, and though he had every reason to hate her, there’d been no rage in his eyes. No anger.
I was just a boy at the time, held back by the other pack members while Jacob won his wicked challenge. I’d seen regret on my father’s face but not rage. Not even resentment toward the woman who’d cost him everything.
And when my mother’s lover snapped my father’s neck in front of our very eyes, she had just closed hers. She’d closed her eyes and wept without a word, and even though she and I both remained, my family died that day.
I could never make sense of it- the way the fight seemed to just drain out of my father then and there. I could never forgive or justify what happened, but for the first time in my life, at least in some way, I think I’m beginning to understand it.
“You’re late,” the girl says with a little smile as I step out of the doorway and meet her on the veranda, pulling me back to the present.
Amara is away with Mark visiting another pack in an effort to maintain the peace. There’s been no conflict with the other territories for a few years, but the Rovers aren’t exactly popular. Having a pack full of rogues means that other packs are constantly judging and underestimating us. That’s why Amara isn’t here. That’s why, today, I’m in charge of training.
“I’m not as obsessed with punctuality as Amara,” I grumble in reply.
She looks stunning in the morning sunlight, her golden hair tied in a messy bun atop her head. Her cheeks are pink and flushed from the chilly early breeze, and her clothes…. her clothes are a fucking torture. Pastel blue leggings that hug every curve, and a matching sports bra that Lucy undoubtedly picked out for her.
As I step onto the wide area covered in mats and workout equipment, I try not to think of the pit in my stomach I felt when I saw the girl’s scars. And I certainly don’t want to think about the mating bond or the fight between my father and his Beta.
Because the truth is that, even though I fear crumpling the little flower that is now growing in my home, she holds just as much power to destroy me.
Maybe even more.
“So, where do we begin?”
Tristan watches me from the edge of the veranda, stepping out onto the training floor.
I try not to stare as he takes off his shirt. His tan brown skin looks almost bronze in the sunlight. Every inch of him is toned and taut, his messy brown hair combed back away from his face.
“Did you already warm up?” he asks, and I nod.
Honestly, I had to. I’d arrived early to training this morning, knowing that Tristan would be the one to work with me today. I’d been anxious enough that I started the exercises Amara taught me right away, needing to dispense some of the nervous energy building up inside of me.
Tristan had put some distance between us since that night in the bath, and I couldn’t say I blamed him for it. Things between us are… complicated.
But I can’t deny that there is a part of me that longs to close that gap between us. It’s like something opened up inside of me when he saw my scars and did not turn away, He was, perhaps, the first person in the world who’d ever seen all of me that way. My flaws, my faults, my limitations.
And he had not condemned me for them. Instead, he’d just watched me much as he did now. No one had ever looked at me the way that he did. No one had ever touched me the way that he did.
And the way that he kissed me….
It still kept me up at night.
“Why don’t you catch me up?” he says, suddenly drawing my attention back. “What have you been working on with Amara?”
“A lot of strength building. She says my balance is good, and I’m quick on my feet, but I need to work on my endurance.”
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?