Chapter 282: A Bloom of Magic and Maybes
Nova’s POV
If you’d told me six months ago that I’d be curled up in the arms of a silver-eyed, portal-conjuring, werewolf-wizard hybrid—who, by the way, stormed into my apartment like some mythological avenger to save me from my deranged ex—I would’ve laughed until my ribs ached and then probably cried in the shower afterward because, let’s be honest, existential breakdowns are my love language. And yet here I am, wrapped in warmth that smells faintly of cedar and storm clouds, in an impossibly gorgeous apartment I got teleported to, being told that everything I grew up thinking was make-believe—magic, wolves, vampires, moon goddesses—wasn’t just real, it was him. And the way he looked at me, like I’d personally handcrafted the stars just for him... yeah. No one tells you how terrifying it is to feel seen like that. Not just looked at—but known.
Here I was.
Still in his arms. Still breathing the same air as him. Still completely, irreversibly unprepared for any of this.
It started with the flowers.
I don’t know why that was the thing that broke me. After everything—wolves, magic, sparkly portals, his silver eyes and ancient soul and mate talk—it was the flowers that made my throat tighten and my eyes sting.
One second I was curled into Eldur’s chest, head tucked beneath his chin like he was the only solid thing in a world that had lost its shape, and the next... I was staring at a blooming crown of violets and soft blue roses swirling above our heads, drifting down like they were floating on an invisible breeze.
"What..." I breathed, watching the petals twirl.
He chuckled softly against my hair. "Magic. I figured you could use something pretty. Real flowers this time. Not summoned from a garden. I made them."
I blinked up at him, lips parted, heart doing that thing it did when he looked at me like I mattered. "You made them?"
He nodded, looking a little too proud of himself for someone who could conjure portals and wolves and actual chefs—