Beneath the Alpha's Moon

Nova’s POV

If someone had told me two months ago that I’d be living in a castle straight out of a gothic romance novel—complete with towers, velvet drapes, eternal twilight corridors, and a man who literally turns into a wolf—I’d have laughed until I choked on my store-brand cereal.

But here I was.

Living it.

The Daegon family castle was nestled in the heart of Beauty Valley—aptly named, I’d come to learn. Think fairy-tale landscapes: endless green hills, sparkling brooks, cobblestone paths winding through forests that looked like they’d been painted with a giant whimsical brush. The sky always seemed to blush, like it knew secrets about the moon. And the flowers? Don’t even get me started. They bloomed like they were trying to win awards.

It was the kind of place that made you feel like the wind itself was whispering stories from a thousand years ago.

And the town people? Sweetest humans alive. Literally brought me homemade bread and pies just because I was staying at The Manor, as they called it. I’d sit with Eldur on the castle steps and wave like a queen while the old lady who ran the bakery shouted, "Tell your in-laws I need more wood for the oven!" or "Nova, darling, I saved the blueberry tarts for you!"

They thought I was some foreign guest of the ancient family that owned the castle.

What they didn’t know? Eldur’s father was the ancient family. Emphasis on ancient. Vampire ancient.

Apparently, the townspeople believed that the Daegons’ ancestors had founded Beauty Valley and just... never left. And technically, they weren’t wrong. Just off by, oh, a few hundred years and a dose of supernatural denial.

I’d once asked Eldur how no one suspected they weren’t human.