Page 21 of Moonlit Fate

He leaned forward ever so slightly and took my hand, his thumb skimming circles on the skin of my palm. “With our union, we can really strengthen the pack’s position in the region.” His words radiated with ambition and eagerness for power.

Ugh.

“Strength comes in many forms,” I explained, carefully extracting my hand from his. “And unity is not solely forged through bonds of matrimony.”

“True, but consider the alliances we could secure, the respect we’d command.” A persuasive smirk played at the corners of his lips. I suspected it was meant to flatter, and I’d bet all the gold in the treasury that other girls in the pack found his half-smile irresistible. It only left an unpleasant taste in my mouth.

His inquiries flowed, one after another, a river seeking the way of least resistance. He posed questions about the pack’s resources, its defenses, the vulnerabilities that only those in the inner circle would know. The genteel conversation cloaked an underlying interrogation.

I responded, each sentence measured and laden with the caution of someone walking a tightrope. I felt more like I was being investigated than wooed. There were no questions about my dreams, no inquiry into the passions that set my heartbeating. Larkin was not interested in Aria the woman. All that mattered were the ways in which our mating had the potential to elevate him in the pack.

“Strategic alliances are important,” I stated coolly. “But they are not the only consideration when it comes to leading.”

“Of course not,” he replied smoothly.

In the silence that followed, a single question throbbed in my mind: Where did love fit into the equation of power and unity?

The polite smile I had worn throughout dinner finally crumbled as I excused myself. I stood up from the table, and Larkin, ever the gentleman, rose from his seat and took my hand. Instead of shaking it, he surprised me by raising it to his mouth. His lips grazed my knuckles, but I felt nothing.

His touch was an insincere, superficial display, and the smile he gave me never reached his eyes.

“Goodnight, Aria,” he said, his eyes lingering on my lips. “I can’t help but imagine what it would be like to kiss more than just your hand.” He turned and left the room.

“I bet,” I muttered to myself. I felt so uncomfortable in his company.

Slipping outside, my feet found reassurance in the cool grass as I ventured into the gardens. Here, beneath the blanket of stars, the stifling expectations and propriety lifted from my shoulders temporarily.

I inhaled the lingering sweetness of night-blooming flowers. The gardens were my reprieve, a place where I could simply be Aria, free from the constraints of my duties.

Yet even here, surrounded by the serenity of nature, an unsettling energy prickled at my skin. It was as if the forest was bracing itself, tense and waiting. I strolled along the winding paths, looking toward the tree line. The whispers of the leaves carried a disharmony, a clashing melody that sang of change and disruption.

I stopped at the ornamental pond, watching the constellations reflected on the water’s surface. My own reflection stared back, a ghostly echo distorted by the gentle ripples. The expectations of my pack, my impending marriage to Larkin… it all loomed over me, a never-ending tide, each wave eroding the shore of my autonomy.

I searched the darkness beyond the garden’s edge. A chilling silence hung all around. It seemed like an omen of trials yet to come.

A figure came into view, interrupting my thoughts and startling me. Larkin.

“I thought you’d left.”

The night had drawn its cloak around the garden, making the shapes of the flowers and trees blur into indistinct silhouettes.

“I wanted to say goodnight again.” Larkin reached out, tucking a stray lock of my silver hair behind my ear with a tenderness that was so damn fake. “You truly are beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Why couldn’t I simply enjoy his attention? Each carefully measured compliment, every planned caress, grated against my spirit. It was unfair to him, this scrutiny that I subjected him to, nitpicking his every move while he was only fulfilling the role assigned to him.

The more I admonished myself to appreciate his efforts, the more I resisted. This routine had been deeply ingrained in me since childhood, with every step and move committed to memory. Yet, now I found myself faltering.

“Goodnight,” he whispered, leaning in closer to me. Larkin’s lips brushed against mine, a gesture meant to seal an evening. I remained motionless, my body rigid, my mind frantic with the effort of trying to find passion where there was nothing but emptiness. When he kissed me, it felt as cold and lifeless as the vast expanse of starry space.

“Goodnight,” I said, detaching myself from his embrace with gentle insistence. His arms clung around me for just a beat too long. “I need to get inside.”

I turned away quickly, not trusting myself to look at him any longer, afraid he’d see my insincerity.

As I headed back to my room, my intuition—a steadfast companion that had never failed me before—urged caution. I had always possessed a keen sixth sense about people’s intentions, and as much as I wanted to trust Larkin, I simply couldn’t bring myself to do so.

I made my way back through the manor, passing the ancestral portraits lining the walls, the eyes of past alphas following my retreat with silent judgment. Their painted faces pierced through me, seeing the disarray of my soul.

As I made my way past the great hall, I caught sight of my father. His presence was commanding, the epitome of what it meant to be alpha. The grand fireplace framed his silhouette, the flickering flames casting his shadow across the floor, elongating it into something formidable and foreboding. The authority he exuded had always been a source of pride, but tonight, that same authority felt like shackles tightening around my wrists.

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