The Wolf God's Unwanted Luna

Vivian’s POV

Zaliver set the cake down beside the picnic basket and gently tugged me under the warm blanket with him. We sat close, shoulder to shoulder, as the ocean wind danced lightly around us and the distant waves whispered their steady lullaby.

"Wait," he said suddenly, pulling out his phone. I watched as his fingers moved across the screen, and a moment later, the soft, aching notes of Fire In The Water by Feist floated into the quiet night air. The song wrapped around us like silk melancholy, gentle, and beautiful, like a quiet confession.

Then, his phone screen went dark. For a second, I didn’t understand until small, delicate lights flickered to life in the grass all around us. One by one, pastel fairy lights in soft shades blinked on, forming a glowing circle around our little blanket. They pulsed gently, spiraling around us once, then again, and again, as if weaving some kind of silent spell. The colors shimmered in shades of lavender, rose gold, and silver-blue, casting a soft, heavenly glow across Zaliver’s sharp features.

My heart clenched in my chest, almost painfully. I couldn’t believe this was real.

He turned to look at me with a small, unusually hesitant smile. "Do you like it?"

How could he just ask that so simply?

I couldn’t even speak at first. I just stared at the lights, the dark ocean, the food, and felt the deep warmth of the blanket wrapped around us both. Then I looked back at him this mysterious, infuriating, beautiful male who could drive me insane and still make me fall for him all over again.

"Zaliver," I breathed, completely overwhelmed. There was no way to describe what I was feeling, only that it all sat heavy, warm, and full inside my chest.

His pale eyes searched my face as my expression softened. I saw something almost vulnerable flicker in his gaze as he waited for my answer.

"So... yes?" he asked carefully, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of the blanket like a shy teenager.

I smiled, my heart completely melting. I sat up on my knees, leaned forward, and pressed a soft kiss directly to his lips. He immediately responded, one large hand threading through my hair, cradling the back of my head like I might disappear into thin air if he let go. His other hand found my waist, firm, reassuring, and gentle.

The kiss was nothing like the intense, desperate ones we’d shared before. It wasn’t wild or urgent. It was slow. Tender. A quiet declaration neither of us had quite found the words for yet. I felt everything in that single kiss his hope, his care, his fears, and his raw longing.

When we finally pulled back, we were both breathless, wearing matching, silly smiles. I rested my forehead against his, our noses lightly brushing in the cool night air.

"It’s a yes," I whispered softly against his skin.

"I’m glad," he whispered back.

We finally broke apart, though it felt like a small heartbreak just to pull away. He pulled out the plates and glasses while I helped uncover the still-warm pasta and roasted vegetables. My brows lifted in surprise when he admitted he’d had a few pack members help carry the heavy setup up the hill, but that he had cooked every bit of the food himself. He was proud of that part. I could tell by the tilt of his jaw.

"You cooked?" I asked, smirking at him.

He gave me a mock warning look. "Yes. Personally. And I assure you, it’s edible."

I laughed and nudged his ribs playfully. "I’m impressed, Alpha."

We ate slowly, savoring every bite and every quiet moment. The wine was sweet and rich, and I let it loosen the stubborn knots that always seemed to live inside my chest. We talked really talked.

He shared stories with me, little details I had never known about him. His favorite music, the way he preferred his coffee dark, how he couldn’t sleep unless the window was left cracked open. We talked about things we loved, things we hated. He opened up about his brother, and when he did, his voice changed deeper, sadder, heavier. I didn’t push him for more. I just listened, and he let me in.

Eventually, we laid back together on the blanket, full and content, the stars scattered above us like brilliant diamonds on black velvet. Our fingers brushed against the fabric, then twined together naturally.

I turned my head slightly to look at him in the dim light.

This man, who was feared by entire supernatural nations... had created genuine magic tonight just to make me smile.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t feel terrified of the future. I felt curious. Hopeful. Connected.

Maybe, just maybe, this bond between us wasn’t just an unyielding twist of fate.

Maybe it was something meant to be cherished.

"I miss my brother terribly," Zaliver said quietly, breaking the peaceful silence that had settled over us.

The way his voice softened, almost fragile, caught me completely off guard.

"Joshula?" I asked gently, treading carefully. It wasn’t a topic we’d spoken about much, if ever. The brother he’d been forced to kill was a ghost neither of us knew how to face.

"Yeah," he murmured, gazing up at the stars. "I don’t remember much from my human life, or really anyone from before... except him. But I do remember the way he made everything feel lighter, like the whole world wasn’t always sitting on my shoulders." A faint smile tugged at his lips, but there was undeniable pain beneath it. "I wish he were here. You’d have liked him. He used to scold me constantly. I was the older one, supposed to look after him, not the other way around."

The way his voice cracked slightly at the very end twisted something painful inside me. I turned my head further on the blanket to face him completely.

"I think I would’ve liked him too," I said softly, offering whatever comfort I could. "Especially since he told you off. Sounds like my kind of guy."

He laughed at that low, warm, and genuine and the tension in his broad shoulders finally eased. The quiet hum of music in the background shifted to A Drop in the Ocean by Ron Pope, filling the night air with its melancholy melody. Without warning, he shifted the topic, like he always did when a memory cut a little too deep.

We drifted into lighter, easier conversation. He started asking all sorts of ridiculous questions, like which kids used to bully me in school, all the way from kindergarten through high school. He was dead serious too, looking at me like he’d go hunt them down personally if I gave him names. I stubbornly refused. No way was I contributing to a supernatural hit list just because fifth-grade me got teased for her shoes.

Eventually, dessert time came around. Zaliver reached for the white box sitting next to the blanket, opened it up, and pulled out a small fork. Then, without any warning, he tugged me effortlessly onto his lap, wrapping a thick arm around my waist like I naturally belonged right there against him.

I gave him a skeptical look as he held up a bite of his lavender cake on the fork.

"What’s this?" I asked, raising a brow. "Are you seriously gonna feed me?"

"Yes," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. His piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, glinting with something dark and playful. "Now open up."

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