Chapter 12 Cold Feet
Aelira’s POV
The day before my formal mating ceremony arrives with startling speed. Though I’ve worn Alarion’s mark for three years,
my
stomach chums as if I’m a girl on the eve of her first bond. I stand at the window of our den and watch the flurry of pack members stringing lanterns, hanging banners, their laughter echoing across the grounds. The world outside glows with anticipation, but my heart only pounds with dread.
“Look at you, all jittery like a fresh–bonded pup!” calls a familiar voice from the doorway.
I spin, my heart leaping at the sight. “Oriana!”
She stands there, her shoulder–length black hair now streaked with vibrant purple, eyes alight with mischief. Her presence is a balm, a lifeline. I run into her arms, clinging just a moment longer than I should.
“I thought your business trip would keep you away until tomorrow!” I breathe, relief softening the ache in my chest,
“And miss helping my best friend through her formal mating? Not a chancel” Oriana hugs me hard before holding me at arm’s length, brow furrowing. “But you look awful. Spill everything.”
I lead her to the sitting area, grateful for Alarion’s absence. Sinking into the cushions, I tell her everything–Cyrinne’s return, her suicide attempt, Alarion’s shifting loyalties, my secret pregnancy. With each word, Oriana’s expression darkens, her wolf’s anger flickering in her eyes.
“That manipulative witch,” she growls. “I knew she was trouble. Please tell me you’ll let me claw her face off.”
Despite everything, I laugh, the sound brittle but real “Alarion says he’s cut ties. He blocked her number, hasn’t seen her
since the… incident.”
Oriana rolls her eyes. “And you believe that? Men like Alarion don’t just walk away from their obsessions,”
“He’s not obsessed,” I protest, the words sounding thin even to me.
She leans in, her voice gentle. “Why are you still with him, Aelire? You could leave. Daelor Briarhallow would help you–he’d do anything for you.”
My cheeks flush. “Daelor is just being kind.”
Oriana’s snort is pure disbelief. “Kind? The Alpha King of the Northern Territory doesn’t offer to sever mate bonds out of kindness. He’s had feelings for you for years.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I scoff, though my wolf shifts, alert to something I can’tname. “And besides, I’m pregnant with Alarion’s
pup.
Her face softens, protective. “All the more reason to be careful. After the ceremony, you should see Dr. Myrren at Aethervale. Make sure all this stress isn’t hurting the baby.”
“I will,” I promise, resting my palm over my
belly.
“And your mother?”
I swallow hard. “Stable, for now. She’s living for this ceremony–it’s everything to her.”
Oriana squeezes my hand. “Then we’ll make it perfect.”
The door opens. Alarion steps in, eyes flicking from me to Oriana. His expression is polite, but tension simmers beneath the surface.
“I didn’t realize you had company,” he says, voice carefully neutral. He and Oriana have always circled each other warily.
Priana stands, smoothing her dress. “Just got back from my trip. My best friend needed backup.”
Alarion’s jaw tics before he forces a smile. “Would you both join me for dinner in the dining hall? The cooks want us to sample tomorrow’s dishes.”
“Lovely,” I say, grateful for the reprieve.
<Chapter 12 Cold Feet.
As we walk, Alarion’s phone chimes. He glances at it, frowns, and silences it without answering.
“Nuisance call,” he says, catching my questioning look.
Oriana arches an eyebrow but says nothing, letting her skepticism speak for her.
Dinner is a lavish affair–a preview of tomorrow’s feast. The cooks have outdone themselves, each dish a
symbol of fertility and prosperity. Despite my nausea, I can’t help but savor the flavors.
“The silver moon cakes are divine, Oriana declares, licking frosting from her fingers. “Though not as good as the ones at Nightshade Pack ceremonies.”
Alarion stiffens. “You’ve attended Nightshade Pack ceremonies?”
“My job takes me everywhere,” she replies smoothly. “Their Alpha King knows how to host.”
I shoot Oriana a warning glance. Her mention of Daelor is deliberate, and I don’t want to provoke Alarion.
Throughout the meal, Alarion checks his phone, brow furrowing deeper each time.
“Is everything alright?” i murmur when Oriana is distracted by dessert.
“Minor pack business,” he assures me. “Luthen is handling it.”
After dinner, Oriana excuses herself to prepare her ceremonial attire. She hugs me tight, whispering in my ear, Aelira. Something’s off.”
Her eyes flash amber as she pulls away–a warning, a promise.
“Be careful,
Alarion leads me out to the ceremonial gardens. Lanterns flicker in the twilight, casting everything in a magical glow. Tomorrow, we’ll stand here before our pack and seal our bond–again.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he
he murmurs, his arm warm around my waist.
“Perfect,” I reply, willing myself to believe it.
His phone chimes again. He tenses. “Excuse me a moment.”
I watch as he steps away, voice clipped. “What now, Luthen?” His posture is taut, shoulders hunched, energy prickling the
A sick dread stirs inside me. Is Cyrinne still lurking in the shadows of our lives? Has Alarion truly let her go, or is this just
another lie?
I catch fragments-“handled discreetly,” “after the ceremony“-before he ends the call and returns to me, face carefully composed.
“Everything’s resolved,” he says, taking my hand. “Nothing to worry about.”
But worry gnaws at me, relentless.
Morning comes in a blur of ritual and chaos. I’m barely awake when ceremonial attendants sweep into our den, ushering Alarion out and surrounding me with preparations.
“The Alpha must not see his Luna until the formal bonding,” one intones as she lays out my ceremonial gown.
I’m buffeted by hands, voices, sacred oils, intricate markings, layer after layer of silk and symbolism. I drift, dozing off more than once.
“Carefull” Oriana scolds, steadying me as I nearly topple. “We can’t have the Luna fainting at her own ceremony.” She pops a moon berry into my mouth, the tart sweetness jolting me awake.
“These are precious,” I protest, but she just feeds me another. “You need them more than anyone. Pregnant wolves need all the energy they can get.”
She keeps me fortified as the attendants finish their work. The gown is breathtaking–silver–white silk embroidered with lightning and healing herbs, the symbols of both my families.
“Has anyone seen the Alpha this morning?” I ask, trying to sound casual, though my anxiety claws at my insides.
Chapter 12 Cold Feet
“It’s tradition,” an attendant replies, fixing my veil. “No contact until the ceremony.”
Oriana eyes the door. “Want me to check on him as your companion? Make sure he’s not getting cold feet?”
“Don’t you dare,” I warn, but my pulse spikes with unease.
“Of course,” Oriana agrees, too quickly. “But maybe I’ll just peek–for tradition’s sake.”
Before I can object, she slips out, her purple dress swirling behind her.
The minutes crawl by as the attendants fuss and perfect every detail. I sit frozen, barely breathing, counting each second
When Oriana returns, her face is pale, lips pressed thin. Dread pools in my gut
“What is it?” My voice is a whisper.
She kneels at my side, voice trembling. “Aelira. Alarion is gone. No one can find him anywhere.”
