The Wolf God's Unwanted Luna

Chapter 41: Wrong asnswer

Her brows were naturally arched, like they were always judging the world, or me. Her nose was small and delicate, and those lashes, dark and thick, casting shadows over her cheeks. When she tilted her head just right, it gave her that sultry, half-daring look she wore without trying. The same one she had when I kissed her.

My gaze dropped to her lips, full, soft, and slightly parted in sleep. I had the sudden, almost painful urge to trace them.

Her skin, pale as moonlight and smooth. I ached to touch her. To mark her. To make her mine again and again.

But instead, I just stood there.

Watching. Wanting.

Waiting.

She barely reached my chest, small in frame but lush in all the right places. I remembered too vividly how that body had felt the moment she opened her eyes beneath mine, warm and soft, trembling yet fearless. The memory alone stirred something primal in me, had my body reacting before I could will it not to. It was maddening, how easily she got under my skin.

Vivian was a paradox, innocence wrapped in the kind of temptation that would bring lesser men to their knees. Every subtle movement she made, every breath, every flutter of her lashes, pulled at the animal inside me. And not just me. Any male with working instincts would feel it. That’s why I couldn’t risk letting her out of my sight. She was danger dressed in sweetness, and I had to lock that danger away, for her safety and everyone else’s.

I reached down, winding a strand of her silky dark hair around my fingers, letting the texture soothe my fraying thoughts. It was almost a habit now, touching her, needing to know she was real.

She shifted on the bed beside me, inching closer until our bodies nearly touched. A small sigh slipped from her lips, soft and almost relieved, like some part of her recognized me even in sleep and chose me anyway. The tension in her brows faded. I didn’t need sleep like most wolves did, hell, I didn’t need it at all. But since Vivian arrived, I’d started following her to bed, not because I needed rest, but because I needed her. Watching her breathe. Hearing the steady beat of her heart. It lulled me like nothing else ever had, and I had lived long enough to know that was not a small thing.

It should’ve been unsettling, this obsession. But it wasn’t. It was grounding.

What had she done to me?

Before her, my pleasures had been simpler. Land. Power. War. Blood. The satisfaction of victory, clean and uncomplicated, repeated until it lost whatever meaning it had started with. I had taken what I wanted from the world and given nothing back because there was nothing I cared to give. I moved through centuries like a force of weather, indifferent to what I leveled. There had been others in my bed, over the years. Warmth of a kind. But I had never stayed to watch them breathe. Never found myself counting heartbeats. Never sat in the dark simply because another person was sleeping in it and I didn’t want to be anywhere else. Then she arrived, chained to my bed and furious about it, and somehow the ground had shifted. Now I felt warmth just by sitting beside her. Peace. And that, that terrified me more than any blade ever could.