The Wolf God's Unwanted Luna

Vivian’s POV

I barely registered the thudding rushing toward me before Zaliver was suddenly there, scooping me into his arms without a word. I didn’t even have time to react. With me clutched to his chest, he ran at a speed that forced me to squeeze my eyes shut and hold on. My heart hammered the whole way, my stomach twisting, until he came to a sharp halt in front of our room.

He let me slide down the length of his body, and even through my still-rattled nerves I felt every inch of it. Then he leaned over to open the door. I didn’t wait, just slipped inside quickly, grateful for something solid under my feet.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" he asked instantly, stepping close.

I threw up a hand. "Zaliver."

He paused, clearly wanting to close the distance, but I backed up a step.

"I’m fine. Really. Nothing to worry about," I said. "I just ran into someone new. We had a weird moment, but it’s sorted."

He narrowed his eyes. "What new friend? And I’m almost certain I heard something about murder—"

I laughed, a little nervously. "Yeah, I might’ve said that. No one’s dead, though. It’s fine. You didn’t need to come get me, but, thanks." I bit my lip. My body still buzzed from the way he’d held me, from the involuntary safety I’d felt pressed against his chest.

But I couldn’t let that feeling win. I had to hold the line. If I let this go every time he showed up looking like that, he’d never understand that marking me didn’t mean he owned every decision I made.

Zaliver’s eyes dropped to my lips. I pulled in a breath.

His chest started to rise and fall heavier. His nostrils flared. He began walking toward me, each step measured and deliberate, and I backed up with every one. My back hit the desk.

I tried to slide sideways, hoping he’d stop. He didn’t. He followed, arms bracketing me on either side, blocking me in. His face came down close to mine, a few strands of dark hair falling forward.

"Vivian," he said, voice low and rough.

The sound of my name in that voice did things I didn’t want to acknowledge. He leaned in, skimming his nose across my cheek, trailing it slowly toward my neck, toward the mark. The moment he got close to it, it started to burn, not in pain exactly, but in that deep, aching way that made it hard to think.

One arm coiled around my waist and pulled me closer. My hands found the fabric of his shirt without me deciding to put them there.

Then, just above the mark, he pressed a soft kiss.

A sound came out of me that I’d never made before. His mouth hovered there, featherlight kisses trailing across the heated skin, close but never quite landing directly on the mark, teasing me, and my hands moved under his shirt and gripped his sides.

"I want you so badly it physically hurts," he said against my ear, voice tight with restraint. "Tell me you feel it too."

I did feel it. Every part of me did. My thoughts had gone soft and slow at the edges, like trying to think through water.

"W-what," I managed, which wasn’t really a sentence.

"Let me take care of you."

He kissed the mark, fully, deliberately.

A shock of heat tore through me, pulling a moan out before I could stop it. My body moved on its own, arching into him, and then his mouth was on mine and I stopped trying to think entirely.

The kiss was rough and hungry and I kissed him back just as hard, my walls coming down in a way I hadn’t planned for. He pulled my leg around his waist and pinned me harder against the desk, and I was dimly aware that a soft noise was coming from my own chest, some wolfish sound I had no control over.

But then something snagged.

Sharp. Wrong.

I gasped and pulled back just enough to think, and the moment my focus cleared I looked at my hand and felt my stomach drop.

My nails had extended into claws, curving and shifting, and I’d dug them into his back without realizing. Four punctures in the black fabric of his shirt. Blood on my fingertips.

I shoved him back hard.

"I’m sorry!" The words came out broken. "I didn’t mean to, I didn’t even feel it happening, I’m sorry—"

My voice shook. I was already fighting tears, which I hated, because this wasn’t what I wanted to be right now. Zaliver stepped forward, and his expression had shifted into something softer than I deserved.

He cupped my face in both hands. "Hey. Shh." His thumbs moved across my cheekbones. "What are you talking about, little cloud? What’s wrong?"

"Doesn’t it hurt?" I whispered.

He tilted his head. "Hurt what?"

I pointed at his back. "That. I clawed you. You’re bleeding."

I glanced over his shoulder, then back at me with an expression that was somehow both gentle and quietly amused at the same time. He pulled up the hem of his shirt and turned slightly. The blood was there, but his skin was already smooth. No wound. Nothing.

"But I saw it," I said, hating how uncertain my voice sounded. "I felt it."

"I heal remarkably fast," he said simply. He took my hand and used his shirt to wipe the blood from my fingers, unhurried, like it was nothing at all. "I didn’t even notice until you said something."

I stood there watching him carefully clean my hands and tried to get my head back together.

"That shouldn’t have happened," I said finally. I meant the claws. I also meant everything before the claws.

"Why not?" he asked, voice dropping again.

"You know why."

"I actually don’t," he said. "Is this still about last night? Because if it is—"

"No, you don’t," I snapped, and started for the door.

His hand shot out and caught my arm. I tried to pull free. He held on.

"Then say it," he said, quieter but firm. "Tell me what’s actually going on."

Fine.

He wanted the truth? He was finally about to get all of it.

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