Beneath the Alpha's Moon

Nova’s POV

I didn’t mean to stay leaning on Eldur’s shoulder.

Okay, maybe I did. Just a little.

There was something about the way Eldur sat—so still, like a statue that just happened to breathe. I kept telling myself I’d straighten up any second now, make some awkward joke, or ask him if he was tired of being my very dramatic pillow.

But... I didn’t.

Because somehow, being pressed into his side felt safer than I’d felt in a very long time.

His coat smelled really nice. And his shoulder was warm, too warm for the chilly breeze sneaking through the broken trees, but I didn’t question it. I just stayed there, head tucked against him like a song I didn’t want to end.

For a while, we just sat in silence. Until Eldur broke it—with the most unexpected thing.

"There’s a story," he began, voice so low it melted into my skin like heat, "about a man who could shift into a wolf the size of a bear. Not just during a full moon—but whenever he wanted. He could hear whispers from miles away and run faster than a speeding car. The villagers called him a monster."

I snorted. "A werewolf? Seriously?"

He didn’t flinch. "He wasn’t a monster. He protected the same villagers who feared him. He stood between them and things they didn’t even know existed."