The Wolf God's Unwanted Luna

Vivian’s POV

Somehow, knowing I had Zaliver right where I wanted him dulled the sharpness of my resentment. I wasn’t even close to forgiving him, no chance in hell, but there was something immensely satisfying in watching him experience a taste of what I went through... maybe even a bit more.

"Vivian!" he bellowed from upstairs again, his voice shaking the floorboards.

I rolled my eyes. "What!" I called back with zero urgency.

"Come up here!"

I smirked, taking my time stirring the food. "Nah!"

His responding growl echoed heavily through the house, and I couldn’t help but laugh to myself.

After I finished up in the kitchen, I plated the food and balanced it on two trays—don’t ask me why there were trays in this place. I added two glasses of water and carried everything upstairs, steady and careful, to where a very much awake and very annoyed Zaliver waited. Pushing the door open with my hip, I stepped inside.

He sat up on the bed, eyes narrowing between me and the food like he was expecting some kind of elaborate trick. I rolled my eyes and placed the tray on the nightstand beside the bed. Taking my own plate, I headed over to the small couch and settled down.

Zaliver picked up his fork and gave the food a tentative, suspicious poke.

"You know, that’s kinda offensive," I said flatly, taking a bite of my own dinner. "And no, I didn’t poison it. Where am I even supposed to get poison? Pretty sure the dollar store doesn’t carry that kind of thing."

He glanced at me, then back at the plate, and after a beat, finally began eating.

At first, I watched him out of the corner of my eye. But the way he inhaled his food? Like a starving wolf. It made me pause mid-bite. The man was devouring it like he hadn’t seen a proper meal in days. I sighed softly, setting my own plate down on the coffee table and standing up. That look in his eyes when I moved—half alert, half worried—was weirdly satisfying.

I didn’t say anything. I just turned and went downstairs to get him another serving. Call it an instinct, but I knew he’d be eyeing mine the second he cleared his plate if I didn’t.

God, washing all these dishes later was going to suck.

Sure enough, when I walked back into the bedroom, his plate was completely spotless, and his intense blue eyes were definitely fixed on mine. I handed him the extra plate and set the fresh water on the nightstand.

"Thanks," he muttered, barely pausing between mouthfuls. I nodded silently, noting how uncharacteristically quiet and tame he was being.

Once we both finished eating, he drained his water in one long gulp and set the empty glass on the floor. Sitting cross-legged on the mattress, he turned to look at me with a focused, heavy expression that made me sit up straighter. I crossed my legs on the couch to mirror him.

"So," I began casually, blinking at him like I hadn’t just fed a literal god his dinner. "How was your day?"

"It’s been fine," he said dryly, flexing his chained wrists slightly. "Thanks for asking."

I gave him a polite, mocking nod. "I saw you took a nap. That’s good."

He said nothing, just kept staring like I was a complex puzzle he was desperately trying to solve.

"What’s with the small talk?" he asked suspiciously.

I shrugged and leaned back against the cushions, feigning utter boredom. "Did you use the computer?"

He gave a cautious nod. "Yeah."

"What for?"

"Work."

I tilted my head. "And the mind link?"

"That too. Also work-related."

"What exactly does ’work-related’ mean for a god?" I asked, gently swinging one leg over the edge of the couch.

He gave me a look like I was being dense. "It means I used them both... for work."

I raised a brow. "Yes, I got that part. But what does your work involve exactly? What does a god do all day?"

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze swept slowly over my face... then dipped lower. I tensed, fighting the instinctive shiver that wanted to crawl up my spine at the sheer intensity of his focus.

"What is this?" he asked, an amused edge softening his voice. "An interrogation?"

I smiled faintly and shook my head, standing up from the couch. "Just curious."

"Nope," I said, propping my hands on my hips with a mock-serious expression. "I’m officially calling this day one of couple’s therapy. And today’s focus? You. Welcome to Zaliver 101."

A slow, wicked smirk curved his lips, and he tilted his head back, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. I noticed the faintest trace of dark stubble along his chin—new, barely there, but oddly grounding. He was starting to look... a little more human.

"Oh, sweetheart," he drawled in that deep, velvet tone that made it far too easy to forget how dangerous he was. "If you want to know me, I’ve got a few ideas on where we could start."

His eyes had started to darken, pulling me into that deep midnight shade that I knew meant trouble.

I rolled mine in return and pointed a stern finger at him. "Oh, I’m sure you do. Too bad I’m not as impressed with what I do know. So how about you just answer the question instead?"

Whatever playfulness had been simmering in his expression vanished in an instant. His face shifted, twisting into something completely unreadable and dark. He dropped his head slightly, letting strands of jet-black hair fall forward and shadow his eyes. It wasn’t just the angle or the sudden silence that made my pulse spike; it was the quiet, dangerous shift in the air around him. The heavy stillness right before a storm.

And then he looked up again, and that smile... It wasn’t right. Too wide. Too sharp. It made something inside me curl tightly, but I held my ground. I had to.

His head tilted to the side in an odd, almost off-kilter way. "So... you don’t like me, then?" he asked softly, but the undercurrent in his tone felt like broken glass wrapped in dark velvet.

The question blindsided me completely. I blinked, stunned into silence for a second.

"That’s not what I said or meant," I said quickly, rushing to fix what he’d clearly misinterpreted. The second the words left my mouth, he straightened up. That weird, off-putting grin slipped away, replaced by a flicker of something almost... vulnerable in his midnight gaze.

"Oh."

Why was my heart suddenly racing?

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