The Wolf God's Unwanted Luna

Vivian’s POV

Two days slipped by quicker than I expected, especially with how much time I spent learning every corner of our new home. And I say "our" even though it still felt surreal to put that word on it. Zaliver made sure to pop in every few hours with flowers in hand, small thoughtful gifts tucked under his arm, and that dangerously charming grin that never failed to leave my pulse slightly off-balance. Those eyes of his, icy blue and always more intense than warranted, had a way of unnerving and calming me at the same time.

While he was off managing whatever the island demanded of him, I busied myself decorating. Most of the additions came from shopping sprees with Hannah, who seemed to be living her actual dream through my house. She bounced around flinging throw pillows and scented candles with the energy of someone who had been waiting her whole pregnancy for an excuse to do exactly this, while I followed behind her in a state of equal awe and mild panic. Honestly, she had more fun dressing my house than I did.

Still, I kept finding things to tidy or fluff or realign even after everything looked picture-perfect, because the nerves wouldn’t stop moving under my skin. My parents were due in just a few hours, and despite every logical part of me knowing I had nothing to prove, I felt exactly like a teenager about to introduce her boyfriend to her parents for the first time. Except this wasn’t some boy. This was Zaliver. The Lupus Deus. My mate.

I checked my outfit for the fifth time in front of the mirror. The soft peach dress hugged my frame just enough to be elegant without trying too hard. I’d curled my hair loosely and left it down, and I was wearing the diamond drop earrings Zaliver had surprised me with yesterday. Looking at my reflection, I could see what the outfit was saying even if I hadn’t planned it that way: look how well I’m being taken care of.

The funny part was that I hadn’t seen him since this morning. He’d kissed my forehead, told me he’d be around the island making sure everything was ready, and that he wanted things to be perfect. Which was, in itself, unexpected. Sweet, but unexpected. Because even if my parents hated him, there wasn’t a thing they could do about our bond. He didn’t have to impress anyone, and yet here he was, apparently trying to anyway.

Which was why, two nights ago, I’d dragged him into what I could only call a planning session.

I’d been pacing in front of the bed like a woman on the edge of snapping. Hair in a lazy bun, pajamas wrinkled from tossing and turning for an hour before giving up on sleep entirely. Zaliver, by contrast, looked like he’d never experienced stress in his six hundred years of existence, lounging across the bed with his ankles crossed and his arms folded like he was waiting for a movie to start.

"We need a plan," I muttered for the third time. "We really, really do."

He said nothing. He just raised a brow and let me keep going.

"I mean, they’re my parents. This is a big deal, Zaliver."

His eyes twinkled. "What sort of plan are we talking about?"

I stopped pacing to glare at him. "Don’t play dumb. I know you’ve already figured this out. You wouldn’t have invited them if you hadn’t."

He didn’t deny it. Typical.

"Fine," he said, shifting slightly. "I’ll give you the outline. When they arrive, they’ll be escorted to the house. You’ll greet them first, without me."

My brows pulled together. "Why not?"

His expression turned serious, though a grin lurked just underneath. "Two reasons. First, I want to give you those initial moments alone with them."

"And the second?"

"Because it’s not ideal for their first impression of me to be," he paused, seeming to search for the word, "overwhelming."

I frowned. "What does that mean exactly?"

"You’ve felt what it’s like to be close to me. My presence runs heavier than a typical Alpha’s. The wolves here have adjusted to it over time. Your parents haven’t had that adjustment. If I open the front door, they might drop to their knees from pure instinct before either of us can say hello. Would make dinner a bit awkward."

Despite myself, I started laughing, even though the mental image of my father on his knees in the entryway did very uncomfortable things to my stomach.

"You’re ridiculous," I said.

He only shrugged. "You chose me."

And I had. Goddess help me.

It was true, though. The power he held was something I could feel through our bond, this quiet, volatile pressure caged just beneath the surface of him. Like a bottle of soda shaken and sealed. Every now and then he’d release a faint ripple of it, barely noticeable, but I felt it in my bones. It made some primal part of me sit up straighter whenever it happened. If this was how he felt when calm, I genuinely didn’t want to know what enraged looked like.

"And," he added, drawing it out with a mischievous edge, "I’d like you to put in a few good words for me before I walk in. Warm them up a little."

I groaned. "So I’m the warm-up act."

"Something like that."

I chewed my lip, turning it over. Was there even a right way to do this? Introduce your parents to your immortal, dangerous, occasionally terrifying mate on an island hidden inside the Bermuda Triangle? Someone should have written that guide. Would have been genuinely helpful.

"Do not stress," he said, standing and crossing to me, both hands settling on my shoulders. His touch grounded me the way it always did, even when everything else was a mess. "Whatever happens, we’ll get through it. Together."

The bond carried the rest of what he meant, quiet and certain.

Whatever happens, I’m not going anywhere. Neither are you.

I’d held onto that promise when I finally fell asleep that night.

Now, standing in front of the mirror in my peach dress with two hours left to go, I was trying to hold onto it again.

Please, Moon Goddess. Let this go smoothly.

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