The Wolf God's Unwanted Luna

Zaliver’s POV

Aurora sat strapped to a chair, blindfolded with thick black cloth that stole away her sight. We’d learned the hard way that she was sharper when she could see her surroundings, her magic more focused, her mind faster. She worked better with visuals, not because she was a spiritual witch, but because her magic required precision and calculation. That little vulnerability was courtesy of her bitter mate, who shared it during one of his angrier moments.

Even after all this time, forty years since I last saw her running from Albericus, Aurora hadn’t lost her beauty. Her long raven-black hair framed fierce features, and though I couldn’t see her eyes under the blindfold, I knew they were as dark and intense as ever. Tall and willowy, she stood as an odd contrast to her mate, but somehow the two of them had always just fit.

For a while, at least.

Until it all fell apart.

Now, all that remained between them was the tension of things never resolved, lust and bitterness and unresolved rage all braided together into something neither of them had ever found a way to cut clean. It clung to the air like smoke. I ignored it and kept my face neutral.

"Aurora," I greeted, voice low.

Her head jerked toward me, a sly smile curling her lips. "Zaliver. Always a pleasure. Or in this case, I suppose I should say it’s nice to hear you." Her tone dripped sarcasm. "Let me guess, this charming little blindfold was your idea? Or was it Albericus, remembering how much I hate the dark? My dear mate, are you sulking in the corner?"

She leaned back with an exaggerated sigh, one leg draped over the other like she had all the time in the world. Despite the years apart, the bond between them clearly hadn’t weakened. She could still sense his exact position in the room without her eyes, and she hated that she could.

Albericus didn’t respond with words. Just a low grunt. Arms crossed, shoulders tense, green eyes locked onto her. He didn’t move, just stared. I knew that look. If I hadn’t needed her for information, I would’ve left him to handle this his own way.

"I expected more of a warm welcome, mutt," she taunted, voice sharp. "What, not happy to see me?"

His only answer was a narrowing of his eyes.

"Aurora, I need—" I started.

She cut me off. Of course she did. Decades had passed and she was still the same infuriating woman.

"Let me guess, you want me to explain the cryptic little message I sent. Same old Zaliver. Straight to the point." She tilted her head as if studying me, even without the ability to see. "But before we go there, tell me, what do you hold close to your heart these days?"

My jaw clenched. A flicker of violent temptation moved through me. If it weren’t for Albericus, I would’ve already forced the answers out of her. Slowly. Methodically.

Instead, I glanced at him and gave a sharp nod.

He stepped forward, canines extending as he moved. I couldn’t touch her, but he could. Just not the way I wanted.

Aurora flinched, trying to press herself back into the chair, but the restraints held. Albericus reached down and brushed her hair aside to bare her neck. He leaned in, close enough that his breath would have ghosted across her skin.

The man had remarkable restraint. I’d always known that about him. If it had been Vivian sitting in that chair—

A jolt ran through me. I shoved the thought aside before it could pull me down. I couldn’t afford that spiral right now.

As expected, Aurora cracked.

"Okay! Okay, I’ll talk!" she yelled. "Just get his fangs away from me!"

Albericus stepped back, face unreadable. But I caught the pain in his eyes before he locked it down.

Aurora’s freedom, her bond, her mate, those were the only things she truly valued and had never been willing to admit out loud. It made her vulnerable in ways she despised.

I pulled up a chair and sat across from her. "Tell me everything you know about the premonition."

She inhaled slowly, lips pressed together. I could practically feel the glare behind the blindfold.

Then, finally, she began to speak.

"Well..."

I rubbed the back of my hand slowly across my eyes, feeling the familiar sting of exhaustion burrowing into the edges of my control. Lack of sleep made me volatile, more than usual, and less capable of the restraint I generally preferred. Not that the damage mattered much, I could heal anything I caused, unless I crossed that final line and someone didn’t survive it. No amount of power could undo that.

Before Vivian, I could go days without rest or food. I’d never needed comfort or warmth. I hadn’t wanted it. But now my body craved things I’d spent centuries convincing myself I was beyond. Rest. Peace. Her.

My mind was fracturing across too many directions at once. I was mind-linking with wolves across the globe, scanning for signs of betrayal. Coordinating missions. Tracking rogues. Sitting in on alpha councils from a distance, filtering through conversations layered with half-truths. Every order I issued pulled more from me, and still the one connection I needed most, the one I was deliberately keeping silent, stayed untouched.

Hers.

And to compound everything, there was a traitor somewhere in my pack. Someone had been quietly feeding information about Vivian to the wrong people while I was too distracted to notice. Whoever it was had been patient, careful, skilled. I hated that I was chasing a shadow instead of dragging them into the light where they belonged.

The faster I found the snake, the faster she could come home.

Four days.

Four days since I’d forced her away. Since I’d watched her face move from confusion to heartbreak and stood there and let it happen anyway. Since I’d made the worst decision of my long life, dressed it up in the language of protection, and walked away from it. I was running out of the steadiness it took to keep operating like everything was under control.

It wasn’t.

Not without her. And the sooner I accepted that, the sooner I could do something about it.

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