The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King

Aria’s POV

One of our phones on the nightstand started buzzing too. I couldn’t tell whose.

Damian had my mouth by then, and my breath caught, a small helpless sound slipping out of me. I couldn’t speak. He had absolutely no intention of letting go.

His brow furrowed. He pressed me down harder into the sheets, like he could will the rest of the world out of existence.

But the doorbell kept ringing.

When it stopped, the phone took over.

Finally I couldn’t take it. I planted a hand against his throat and pushed, forcing enough space to breathe.

"Damian... Damian... something’s wrong, this has to be important—"

He pressed his lips together, his breathing rougher now. His shirt was already off, the muscles of his stomach drawn tight, and even the old scars along his back felt scorching where they touched me.

For a moment he didn’t move. Then, extremely reluctantly, he let me go.

We both grabbed our phones. My eyes widened the second I saw the name on the screen, and I was already scrambling into my clothes and bolting for the door.

"It’s your grandmother! Get dressed, hurry!"

While we’d been tangled up in bed, Grace had called five times. And texted.

Saying she was already standing outside our door.

I raked my fingers through my hair, took a breath, and opened it.

Grace stood there in a sharp black plaid skirt suit, impeccably put together, flanked by a man in his early fifties and a younger woman dressed like an assistant, all business.

"Aria, sweetheart, is Damian up yet?" Grace beamed the moment she saw me.

It was nearly ten already.

Normally we’d both have been awake for hours. But last night had gotten out of hand—Damian hadn’t let me sleep until the sky was already going gray.

I still ached everywhere. It had taken all I had just to look normal opening the door.

"Oh, he’s up," I said quickly, ushering them inside. "He’s just finishing getting ready. He’ll be right out."

I felt my cheeks warm as I turned to the two people beside her. "Grace, these are...?"

"Let me introduce you. This is a dear friend of mine, Dr. Everett, Director of the International Institute for Psychological Research. He’s a full professor at the top medical school in the UK now, and he consults for major hospitals on the side." She gestured to the younger woman. "And this is his graduate assistant."

The moment she said it, everything clicked.

Damian had mentioned he’d be starting therapy. But when he’d told me, I’d caught the reluctance flickering across his face. He clearly hated the idea.

For a man who fell apart at the mere thought of anyone seeing his wounds, sitting across from a doctor probably felt like carving them open himself.

I didn’t want to force any of this on him. If he hated it, I could act like none of it ever needed to happen. He had PTSD. I could simply stay close, protect him, keep him out of the places in his own head that hurt. Was there really anything wrong with that?

You didn’t have to dig the wound open. As long as it didn’t get worse, keeping it steady was its own kind of healing.

But Grace meant well, and Damian had already agreed, so it wasn’t my place to argue. Thankfully she was thoughtful enough to know he’d resist. That was why she’d brought Dr. Everett here as a friend instead of dragging Damian into some sterile office.

"Grandmother."

Just as I got everyone settled with tea, Damian emerged from the bedroom.

He’d changed. A crisp shirt and tailored trousers now, no lounge clothes in sight. The man who’d been wrapped around me an hour ago was gone. In his place stood the version the world knew, the one who moved through boardrooms like a blade through water. Elegant, remote, coldly untouchable.

The only thing that gave him away was the way his eyes softened when they found me. That lingering warmth hadn’t quite burned off.

I stood and reached for his hand. "You had a whole appointment with your grandmother and you didn’t tell me?"

"Forgot." He hesitated, his voice going quiet and low, threaded with something almost like guilt. Then he moved to the chair across from Dr. Everett and sat down, his expression guarded.

Dr. Everett wore heavy metal-framed glasses, his manner steady and calm, his clothes plain and unassuming. Everything about him invited trust.

And yet, even after their handshake, I could tell he’d already picked up on the tension coiled in Damian.

He wasn’t wrong. The second Damian laid eyes on him, I could feel the tide of memory pulling at him.

He’d told me, once, about all the doctors his father Andrew had marched him to see as a boy. The cold rooms. The black and white light. The soft, careful sighs that had settled into his chest like lengths of iron chain, dragging him down. Even shifting slightly under that weight had felt like drowning.

"Relax, darling." Grace stepped in smoothly when she caught the stiffness in the air. "Everett’s just here to chat, to help you untangle a few knots. This isn’t some clinical appointment."

I watched Damian’s expression darken by degrees, and I slid my hand quietly onto his thigh.

"Why don’t your grandmother and I step out?" I said gently. "You two can talk. I’ll be right back."

I wanted to stay with him. But I worried he’d feel more exposed with me in the room.

I’d barely started to rise when his hand caught mine and held on.

He didn’t look at me. I couldn’t read his face. But he wasn’t letting go.

Even now, facing the exact thing he dreaded most, his first instinct was to keep me beside him.

I stilled. Only then did his fingers slowly loosen.

"It’s all right, Luna Aria can stay," Dr. Everett said warmly. "We’re only going to talk. You’re mates. There’s nothing here she needs to be shielded from."

His voice was soft, reassuring. He met my eyes with a look that steadied something in my chest.

I glanced at Grace.

She smiled and offered to run out and pick up some food herself, since it was nearly lunch anyway. She’d bring back something nice for all of us.

Dr. Everett gave his assistant a small nod, and the young woman rose to accompany her out.

Three of us left in the room. Dr. Everett pulled a pen and small pad from his pocket and smiled.

"Alpha King, Luna Queen, I hear you’re still on your honeymoon. Congratulations to you both."

"Thank you," I said, smiling back.

I straightened in my seat, assuming the consultation was finally about to begin.

I took a quiet breath and prepared myself, ready to answer whatever questions Dr. Everett had for us.

I straightened in my seat, assuming the consultation was finally about to begin. I took a quiet breath and prepared myself.

I just hoped the questions wouldn’t be too sharp.

After all, we were here because of Damian, and I knew there were things he still struggled to talk about. I didn’t want Dr. Everett to push him too hard.

But instead of asking a single question, Dr. Everett lowered his head and began moving his pen across the small pad.

I blinked.

What was he doing?