The Wolf God's Unwanted Luna

Chapter 42: baby bump

I hadn’t laid eyes on Zaliver since he shackled me the night before. Honestly, that might’ve been for the best, because if I had, I’m not sure I wouldn’t have strangled him with the very chains he used on me. The thought was more satisfying than it should’ve been.

Even my wolf was irritated. For once, we were aligned in our fury. She wasn’t letting him off the hook for his impulsive, infuriating behavior, and neither was I. His reasoning? Absolutely ridiculous. He knew it too, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Somewhere beneath all that Alpha arrogance, he had to realize it.

All I’d done was put a hand on another guy’s shoulder! That was all it took for him to snap like a jealous pup? It wasn’t like I kissed the guy or ran off into the woods with him to elope.

I’d tried everything I could think of to get these damn chains off. I’d tugged, twisted, even chewed on them, bad idea, by the way. I tried slipping my hands through, breaking the metal, anything. Nothing worked. The chains barely had a scratch on them. Figures.

I glanced at the clock. 8:50 AM. I groaned, not just out of frustration but from pure exhaustion. I had slept at some point, but it was fleeting. I couldn’t find comfort. Not without him.

As much as I hated admitting it, I missed Zaliver’s warmth. The solid weight of his body beside mine, his arms wrapped around me like a living cocoon. I wanted to press my face into his chest, feel his lips trail against my skin. It was maddening. How had I spent almost eighteen years perfectly fine on my own, only to fall apart after two nights tangled up with my mate?

I threw my head back into the pillows, letting out another long groan. I was pathetic. One minute I wanted to snap his neck, the next I was aching to be near him. Was this what being mated was supposed to feel like? A constant tug-of-war between fury and yearning?

And did he feel it too? Was he just as affected, or was all of this one-sided?

Last night, wrapped in silence and solitude, I’d had time to really think. His talk about marking me, it haunted my thoughts. Was he finally going to do it? The idea sent a thrill through my chest and a sharp edge of panic.

Excitement came from the bond. From the idea of finally being his, truly. But the fear? That came from everything else.

First, there was the act of marking itself, intimate, deeply primal, and incredibly arousing. Not exactly something you could mentally prepare for. Second, there was the aftermath. Once marked, I’d be his. His in every sense of the word. Zaliver’s possessiveness was already stifling. Once the mark was there? I’d be trapped. Not metaphorically. Literally.

And I wasn’t even sure he wanted to mark me for the right reasons. Was it love? Was it devotion? Or was it just another way to claim and control me like territory? That question stung more than I cared to admit.

A knock on the door snapped me from my spiraling thoughts.

My ears perked. Maybe it was him. Maybe he’d come to unchain me and apologize. Or at the very least, give me a chance to yell at him face-to-face.