The Triplet Alphas' Curse: Rejected by the Wolfless Luna.

The slap echoed across the garden.

Aire stood frozen where she was.

Her palm stung.

Across from her, Lysander’s head remained slightly turned from the force of the hit.

The red mark slowly appeared against his cheek. Neither of them moved.

Aire’s chest rose and fell strongly. The anger that had driven her hand vanished almost immediately.

Reality returned. She had slapped a dark fae.

Not just any dark fae, she had slapped Lysander.

Aire swallowed hard.

For one terrible second she wondered if she had finally lost her mind. She wondered if he’d kill her, and finally put her out of this misery.

Lysander slowly turned his face back toward her.

His expression remained unreadable, yet she could see the disappointment behind his eyes.

Aire’s stomach dropped.

Immediately, the air shifted. A violent burst of dark purple magic exploded through the garden.

Aire flinched.

A familiar figure appeared between them.

Morrigan.

The female materialized so suddenly that even the flowers around her withered slightly beneath the force of her power.

Her eyes immediately landed on the red mark across Lysander’s face, and everything stopped violently.

Morrigan stared at the mark, then her head turned very slowly toward Aire. Enough to scare Aire.

Aire immediately wished the ground would open and swallow her whole.

The look on Morrigan’s face promised death. "What." Her voice came out dangerously calm.

Aire opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Morrigan took one step forward. "What." She took another step towards Aire. "Did." She took another. "You." She took her last step. Standing directky before Aire, she comoleted ger question. "Do?"

The final word cracked through the garden like thunder.

Aire instinctively stepped backward. She’d rather stay away from Morrigan, and not test the waters yet.

Her heart began hammering. "I—"

A hard slap landed before she finished speaking. Aire never saw it coming.

One second Morrigan stood several feet away. The next second pain exploded across her face.

Her head snapped sideways.

The force sent her stumbling, and stars burst across her vision. Aire tasted blood immediately.

The world tilted.

She barely caught herself before falling.

The side of her face burned.

Morrigan looked ready to kill someone. "What made you think you could do such a thing?" She growled at her.

Her voice shook with fury.

Aire pressed a hand against her cheek. The pain felt familiar, and almost comforting. It reminded her of home.

"You slapped him?"

Morrigan looked genuinely offended. "As though he were some village idiot?"

Aire remained silent.

Morrigan took another step. "What gave you the courage?"

Aire stared at the ground.

Honestly? She didn’t know. The anger, frustration, helplessness, and feeling of being trapped had happened too fast.

Everything had exploded at once and now she regretted it. Not because she feared punishment, but because it had solved nothing.

The guilt she felt made her silent.

Morrigan looked ready to strike her again when Lysander suddenly cleared his throat, stopping her.

She suddenly rounded on Lysander. The movement happened so quickly that Aire blinked.

Morrigan pointed directly at him. "You."

Lysander’s eyes narrowed. "What?"

"What is going on?"

The question cracked through the garden.

Lysander remained silent.

Morrigan pointed between them. "No." She shook her head. Her eyes narrowed. "What is going on between you two?"

Aire blinked in shock.

Lysander sighed. "Morrigan."

She ignored him. "What exactly is happening?" Her finger jabbed toward Aire, without taking her face off Lysander. "Because she just slapped you."

Silence fell between all three of them.

Morrigan scoffed in pure disgust, breaking the silence. "Do you understand how ridiculous that sounds?"

Lysander’s expression darkened. "Morrigan." He called her, his voice flat with warning.

She still wasn’t finished. "Vaelor has never slapped you."

Her eyes widened. "Vaelor." She emphasised on his name, and the emphasis echoed through the garden. "And somehow she thinks she can?"

Morrigan pointed toward Aire again. "You gave her that confidence."

Lysander’s jaw tightened. "Morrigan."

Morrigan eyes glowed with rage. "You gave her permission."

"Morrigan."

"You let this happen."

The growl that left Lysander’s throat next to sbut her up ended up silencing the entire garden.

Aire froze, and even Morrigan paused.

For a moment nobody moved. Then Lysander suddenly grabbed Morrigan’s wrist jard.

"Morrigan." His voice had changed dangerously. "Walk." He commanded.

Morrigan stared at him, in full disobedience and rage. She wanted to hit Aire more to out senses into her.

Lysander stared back hard, and the tension became almost visible.

Morrigan scoffed. "Fine."

Lysander immediately dragged her away. Far enough that Aire could no longer hear them clearly.

She remained standing alone, confused and uncomfortable. She strangely felt guilty. Her hand still hurt, and the side of her face still burned.

The garden suddenly felt enormous.

Aire looked toward the distant figures.

Morrigan was talking aggressively, and Lysander looked equally irritated.

Aire couldn’t hear the words, only fragments carried by the wind.

"...what is wrong with you..."

"...nothing..."

"...don’t lie..."

"...trust me..."

Aire frowned.

Trust him?

About what?

The conversation continued.

Morrigan folded her arms, and Lysander rubbed the back of his neck.

Neither looked pleased.

Eventually Morrigan threw both hands into the air dramatically, then she stormed away, and vanished just like that.

One second she was there, and the next she wasn’t. Dark magic swallowed her completely, leaving only Lysander standing there alone.

He remained standing there for several moments.

His shoulders looked tense, and his jaw looked tighter than before.

Slowly he turned, and his eyes found Aire.

Aire straightened, and the guilt returned.

Lysander sighed. He let out a long exhausted sound, and started walking back toward her.

Lysander stopped in front of her.

For a moment neither of them spoke.

Aire stared stubbornly at the ground.

The guilt remained.

The side of her face still burned from Morrigan’s slap, and somehow that felt worse than the sting in her palm.

Lysander sighed again, then he stretched out his hand to her.

Aire blinked.

His hand remained there, waiting.

Slowly, and cautiously, she lifted hers. The moment their palms touched, warmth spread through her skin.

Lysander’s fingers closed around hers and he pulled her upright.

Aire stumbled slightly.

The movement brought her far closer to him than she expected.

Dangerously close.

Their hands remained intertwined, and the garden seemed quieter. Then the wind moved through the trees, and silver hair lifted around Aire’s face.

Golden strands from Lysander’s hair shifted as well.

The breeze tangled them together briefly before carrying them apart again.

Aire looked up, and Lysander was already looking at her. His gaze drifted slowly to her cheek, staring at the red mark Morrigan left behind.

His expression darkened.

Without warning, he lifted his free hand.

Aire stiffened.

His fingers brushed gently against her cheek.

She flinched immediately. The touch wasn’t painful. It was simply unexpected, and felt really familiar.

Lysander’s jaw tightened. "Does it hurt?"

Aire nodded at once. "Yes."

Lysander huffed softly through his nose. His thumb brushed the edge of the mark.

Aire fought another flinch. The gesture felt oddly careful.

The wind continued moving around them, then Lysander tucked a loose silver strand behind her ear.

Aire froze. Once again, the movement felt strangely familiar. Dangerously familiar.

His eyes remained on hers. "Want to take a bath?"

Aire chuckled. The question was so unexpected that her thoughts completely stopped.

"A bath?"

Lysander nodded. "You look miserable."

Aire immediately looked offended. "I do not."

"You do."

Aire narrowed her eyes.

Lysander raised a brow, and the corner of his mouth twitched. For the first time since she came to the garden, some of the tension eased.

Aire looked away first. Her lips twisted. "...a little."

"A little?" Lysander repeated dryly.

Aire sighed dramatically. "Fine. I’ll take a bath."

Lysander nodded as though victory had been achieved.

He freed her hand. "Come on." He turned toward the estate.

Aire hesitated only a moment before following him. The lesson about dark magic had been forgotten. For now.

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