The Wolf God's Unwanted Luna

Vivian’s POV

But questions still buzzed around my mind, tugging at the edges of my calm.

"Why did she say the alpha couldn’t feel my pack link but can still feel me? And Lily, why doesn’t she even remember picking me up from the airport?" I asked quietly, eyes fixed on him.

He crossed his arms and leaned back a little, taking on that calm but authoritative tone he always used when explaining werewolf things.

"Well, now that you’re marked as my mate, you’ve stepped into a different kind of connection. Every wolf has different kinds of bonds. There’s the pack link, everyone feels that. Then there’s the mate bond, which is between, well, mates. Alphas have an alpha link, which keeps the hierarchy in line. And then there’s the semi-complete link to me."

"Semi-complete?" I echoed, confused.

His eyes did that strange glowing thing again, flashing with unnatural light before settling back into that stormy blue.

"You still have to shift into your other form," he said, voice smooth and even, like it wasn’t a big deal. But it made me go quiet. I didn’t want to talk about that. Not yet.

"What about Lily?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. He gave a small nod, though I wasn’t sure if it was in agreement or because something had clicked in his memory.

"I had Albericus erase the memory of her picking you up. Just a precaution," he explained casually.

That made sense, I supposed. It still felt strange, but I was learning that a lot of things in this world did.

"Okay. So what about my parents? What’s the plan?" I asked, pacing a little, my nerves taking over. I didn’t want them left out in the open or in danger. As I walked back and forth, the worry rose in me again, but I forced myself to breathe and think of the positives.

"Don’t worry," he said, trying to reassure me. "I’ve got it covered. They’ll be picked up tomorrow and brought here. You can talk to them, tell them how happy you are, make them see this is where you want to be."

I paused and looked at him, squinting slightly. He sounded so sure of himself.

"So they’ll be staying here? With us?" I asked slowly.

"No."

I blinked, confused. "What do you mean, no? Where are they staying then?"

He looked at me for a long, unreadable moment, then stood up.

"Come on," he said, already walking toward the door and grabbing his keys.

I followed him, a tight ball of anxiety forming in my stomach. Where was he taking me? What did he mean by no? He better not be thinking about putting my parents in some hotel on the island.

We drove down the long path behind the pack house, deeper into the forest. The further we went, the more uneasy I felt. Trees swallowed the road, and I was starting to worry that maybe he was planning something drastic. I opened my mouth, ready to yell at him for even thinking about locking them away, when suddenly the trees cleared and a house came into view.

Scratch that. A mansion. Or maybe even a castle.

It looked like something from a dream or a movie. Grey stone walls rose high with elegant arches, balconies, and massive boulders framing the entrance. It had the same feel as the pack house, but older, more ancient, majestic.

Zaliver pulled the car up to the front steps and parked.

"Wow," I whispered, staring out the window.

"Here. They’ll be staying here."

Something about the way he said that made me pause. I turned to look at him and really looked. His jaw was tight. His hands gripped the wheel harder than necessary. Shoulders squared. His eyes flicked between the house and me. And for once, they weren’t filled with the usual confidence or calculated calm.

He was nervous.

I tilted my head and felt along our bond, searching. My eyes widened slightly as I realized I was right. He was nervous.

I turned back toward the house, staring harder. It didn’t look abandoned. In fact, it looked immaculately cared for. But it gave off an unmistakable air of loneliness, like something beautiful that had been kept ready for a long time, waiting. Whoever this place was meant for, it meant something to him. Enough to rattle Zaliver, the same man who terrified everyone else.

"Zaliver," I said quietly, "who owns this house?"

He glanced at me, then sighed, dragging a hand through his thick dark hair. For a long moment, he didn’t answer. But then his shoulders sagged slightly, like he was giving in.

"We do."

Shock rippled through me like a jolt of electricity. That wasn’t the answer I was expecting, not even close.

"W-what? You mean your house, right?" I asked, blinking at him. He bit his lower lip, and for a brief moment, I had the wild urge to lean forward and bite it too. But I shoved that thought away.

He shook his head slowly, eyes not leaving mine. "No. Our house. I, I had a house built for us."

My breath caught in my throat. My eyes went wide, partly because I had never seen him stutter from nerves before, and partly because he had a house built for us.

"When?" My voice was barely above a whisper. I turned in my seat to look at the house again. It was beautiful, modern but cozy, and it definitely looked untouched, like no one had ever lived there.

"I-I, umm," he let out a low, frustrated growl and dragged a hand over his face.

I watched him for a moment and felt something shift quietly in my chest. This was the man who had commanded armies, who had made gods answer to him, who had outlived everything and everyone for six centuries without so much as a tremor in his voice. And right now, he couldn’t finish a sentence.

Because of me.

Because of a house he’d built for us and wasn’t sure how I’d take it.

My lips parted slightly. The sight before me wasn’t the untouchable, powerful god the world feared. Right now, he looked like a man, nervous, raw, uncertain, trying. A small smile tugged at my mouth despite the shock still lingering in my chest.

He was struggling to find the words, and that meant something. That meant a lot.

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