Page 64 of Moonlit Fate

My muscles tensed, my wolf urging me to give chase, to hunt him down and exact the justice that pulsed through my veins. But a stronger call anchored me to the spot. Aria. Her name was a silent plea, a prayer that eclipsed the roar of vengeance whispering in my soul.

I moved to her side, my steps unsteady as I knelt beside her still body. The world narrowed until there was nothing but Aria. Eldan’s presence registered faintly, a peripheral ghost as I cradled her head gently in my lap, brushing back the silken strands from her pallid face.

“Aria,” I whispered. But she lay unmoving, fragile.

Eldan stood next to me in a contemplative silence. I’d heard Aria talk of him and knew he was a good friend, one I now owed dearly for helping me get to her. Our eyes locked in a silent exchange. Whatever he had been searching for in my gaze, he must have found it because he nodded in understanding. His nod had been the unspoken accord with warriors, and now our mutual worry for Aria forged a new, albeit temporary, alliance.

“Stay with me,” I whispered in Aria’s ear, my tone soft yet fervent, as if the force of my will alone could summon her back.“Fight,” I urged. “Your spirit is much too passionate tosuccumb to the night.” As I held her, the world beyond ceased to exist.

I wanted to tear through the woods, to hunt Larkin down and exact a ferocious vengeance. But the quiet sound of her breathing grounded me here, keeping her safe.

“Normally, I’d want to take her home, but if Larkin has double-crossed us, there’s no knowing who can be trusted,” Eldan said. “He has supporters in the pack, and it’s impossible to know if he has manipulated any of them. I’m trusting you to take her to safety. I’ll handle things here and relay any important news.”

I nodded. With utmost care, I lifted her into my arms and carried her from the clearing. Every step I took was an oath that I would protect her. The last vestiges of battle cries and clashing teeth faded behind us, replaced by the mournful whispers of the trees grieving their own scars of conflict.

Ahead, I saw my den, a haven that called out toward me. Aria needed healing, rest, the gentle touch of those who would tend to her with quiet reverence. Once she was secure, once the steady beat of her heart was free from peril, I would return to the fray. Larkin and his treachery would be dealt with, his threat to our future extinguished.

“Help!” I bellowed into the semi-darkness of our den.

The dim confines of the den burst into life as Mia rushed toward me. In a flash, she was at my side, her skilled fingers hovering over Aria’s fragile form. The soft cadence of her muttering melded with the rustle of leaves as she inspected each bruise, each mark marring the perfection of Aria’s skin. From her healer’s pouch, Mia drew forth an arsenal of nature’s remedies, her hands a blur as she concocted a salve potent enough to mend flesh and spirit.

I felt powerless, a beast with no outlet for its fury.

There, in the quiet of the den, time stretched into an endless void, punctuated only by the shallow rise and fall of Aria’s chest and Mia’s humming as she worked her healing arts. My mind, usually so clear and strategic when faced with adversity, now spiraled in the singular axis of Aria’s recovery.

“What can I do?” It was a plea to the universe, a desperate man seeking help, any help.

Mia didn’t pause in her ministrations, her focus unbroken as she blended the herbs with a precision that spoke of years of knowledge passed down through generations.

“Just give her space,” she said, steady and sure. It was a gentle command from one who knew the dance of life and death, a dance she had swayed to many times before. “She’s strong. She’ll pull through.”

In the stillness, I realized that love was not just the fierce protectiveness that drove me to fight, nor the passion when our bodies entwined. It was also this, the quiet vigil, the aching wait, the steadfast belief in the woman I loved.

And so I sat, watching over Aria as night bled into dawn.

16

ARIA

Iawoke with a start, my senses jumbled and raw as if I had been torn from one reality and thrust into another less forgiving one. Pain throbbed in every inch of my body. Disoriented, I struggled to piece together the fragmented images that teased at my consciousness.

“Easy,” a deep, familiar voice coaxed me back from the brink of panic. Atticus. His den surrounded us, a cocoon of safety in a world that had been turned upside down.

“Atticus?” I felt small, fractured. The disarray of my memories confused me. I blinked, trying to clear the fog that clung to me.

“Shh. You’re safe here, love.” He was close. I wanted to inch closer to his warmth. His fingers brushed tentatively against my arm, the touch sparking along my skin.

“How did I get here?” I asked through gritted teeth, each word full of the effort it took not to succumb to the pain keeping me hostage.

“The battle was chaotic, a frenzy of tooth and claw. After I felt you fall, I fought my way to you, tearing through anyone who stood in my way. When I found you...” He paused, clearly shakenas he recounted. “You were unconscious, your body battered and bleeding.”

My heart clenched at the visual he painted, the battle’s ferocity a distant memory. Atticus had pulled me from the brink of death, had carried me to this haven where the outside world could not touch us. For now.

“Thank you,” I said, though the words were inadequate to express the torrent of gratitude that surged through me.

“Always,” he said, the word laden with promise and protection. And in the quiet of his den, with pain racking my body and uncertainty bearing down on us, I believed him.

The world spun in disjointed fragments as I lay there, trying to piece together the chaos of the battle. Flashes of snarling muzzles and gleaming fangs invaded my mind, a discord of growls and pain. Worry for my pack burrowed deeper, claws scraping against my insides.

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