Chapter 18 Proposal
Aelira’s POV
“Sign it.” I thrust the documents into Alarion’s hands, my voice steady–steadier than I imagined possible. “Sign and get out of my apartment.”
Alarion’s amber gaze ignites, burning with an Alpha’s fury. The air thickens, stifling, his scent transforming from the wild calm of pine and earth into something jagged, all sharp edges and rage.
“You think I’ll just let you walk away?” He rips the papers from my grip.
Before I can react, he tears them apart. The sound is violent, a raw, shredding noise that reverberates through the tight quarters, the fragments swirling down like bleak winter snow.
I don’t flinch. I’d seen it coming.
“That was pathetic,” I say, reaching into my purse and producing another set. “I made spares.”
He stares at me, as if I’ve become someone unrecognizable. For a fleeting moment, his shock is real, unguarded.
“Who are you?” he murmurs, voice frayed. “The Aelira I knew would never-”
“The Aelira you knew died with her mother,” I cut in, cold and unyielding. “Now sign them. Then leave.”
He closes the distance, crowding me with an Alpha’s weight, his presence oppressive in my cramped living room
“I’m not signing any severance,” he growls, low and dangerous. “You’re my mate. My Luna.”
“You mean your properly? Something you can keep on a shelf while you run to Cyrinne every time she snaps her fingers?”
His jaw flexes, hard enough I wonder if his teeth will crack. “You have no idea how complicated-”
“No,” I interrupt, voice rising. “I understand perfectly. I just refuse to accept it anymore.”
He scrubs a hand through his hair–a gesture that used to make me ache with tenderness. Now it feels like a trick, a calculated attempt at wounded vulnerability.
“I won’t do it,” he says, voice flat as stone. “I won’t sever our mate bond.”
His stubbornness sends a fresh wave of anger crashing through me. “You’d rather keep me caged in a mating that’s already dead?
“It’s not dead!” he snaps. “You’re twisting it!”
I let out a laugh, brittle as glass. This isn’t love, Alarion. Love doesn’t look like this. Love doesn’t flaunt another woman in photos on our ceremony day.”
His eyes narrow, Alpha fury simmering beneath the surface. “I told you. I didn’t post that picture.”
“Sure,” I say, my voice slicing between us. “It just appeared on your account, out of thin air.”
His hands ball into fists, knuckles white. For a split second, I brace for violence–I see it flicker across his face, that impulse to lash out.
He doesn’t. He turns on his heel, striding for the door. “This conversation is finished.”
He slams the door with such force that the windows tremble in their frames. His scent lingers, a territorial brand, as if he could still lay claim to me by sheer will.
I collapse onto the sofa, drained. Tom shreds of the agreement scatter across the floor, each piece a silent accusation
Inside, my wolf keens–confused, wounded. She knows Alarion is ours, yet she recails from the pain he’s inflicted, the betrayal that festers between us.
Anxiety crashes over me, suffocating. What now? Alarion, with all his Alpha power, could drag this out for months, years- make the severance brutal, endless.
E 781
Chapter 18 Proposal
Unless…
Daelor Briarhallow’s words resurface, echoing in my memory: “Want to break the mate bond? I’ll help you.”
Back then, I’d brushed it off–just another taunt, a jab to rile Alarion. But what if he meant it?
My wolf stirs, drawn to the memory of Daelor’s strength, the way his presence fills a room.
Without hesitating, I grab my phone and dial his number. I mean to explain, to ask for a meeting, to beg for help if I must.
“Aelira?” His voice answers after two rings, warm and deep, surprised but not displeased.
The sound of my name in his mouth sends a shiver down my spine.
“Daelor, I-” I falter, suddenly uncertain. “I wanted to thank you. For what you did at the hospital.”
“No thanks needed,” he replies. “How are you doing?”
His genuine concern disarms me. “Managing,” I say, though it feels like a lie. “Are you free for dinner? There’s something i mportant I need to talk about.
I hold my breath, waiting for him to refuse, to judge me.
“Of course,” he says, not missing a beat. “When?”
“Tonight?” I blurt, startled by my own boldness. “If you’re not busy.”
“Tonight’s perfect,” Daelor answers, his tone perfectly neutral. “Send me the time and place.”
After we hang up, I spend too long rifling through my closet, discarding outfit after outfit. Nothing too desperate, nothing too casual, nothing that screams ‘abandoned mate begging for rescue.”
At last, I settle on a forest–green dress that brings out my eyes and skims my waist–loose enough to hide the subtle changes in my body. I’m only six weeks pregnant, no outward sign yet, but my wolf feels every shift beneath the skin.
Silver Moon is high–end, built for wolves, with private rooms and scent–masking partitions–ideal for secrets and confessions.
I arrive early, smoothing my dress, heart thudding. My wolf’s on high alert, searching for threats, for spies who might report back to Alarion.
Daelor is already there, unmistakable even across the crowded foyer. Wolves glance his way, then at me, curiosity sharp in their eyes.
“You’re early,” I say, approaching.
His silver–gray eyes warm. “I had a meeting nearby. Lucky timing.”
He looks flawless in a charcoal suit, broad–shouldered and collected. His Alpha power feels natural, effortless–so unlike Alarion’s manufactured dominance.
“I arranged for privacy, he says, steering me past the main dining room toward a quiet hallway.
“You got us a reservation?” I’m impressed; Silver Moon is booked out for weeks.
He gives a faint smile. “I keep a standing reservation for business. It’s useful.”
He opens the door into a softly lit room, a single table set for two, fresh flowers perfuming the air.
“This is… a lot,” I admit, uneasy at the intimacy.
Daelor draws out my chair. “I find it easier to talk without a dozen ears listening in.
His wolf’s power lingers, not oppressive, but grounding–steadying me.
A waiter appears with menus.
“The venison is especially good tonight,” Daelor suggests, scanning the offerings. “The moon crab’s a specialty, too.”
I glance at the prices, trying not to cringe. “I’ll just have-
Chapter 18 Proposal
“My treat,” Daelor says gently. “Order whatever you like. Any dietary needs?”
His th
His thoughtfulness catches me off guard. Alarion never asked.
“No restrictions,” I say. “But I am sensitive to some scents lately.”
Daelor’s gaze flicks to my belly before returning to my face. His expression gives nothing away.
“We’ll avoid the strong ones,” he says smoothly. “Silver pine soup is very mild.”
When the waiter returns, Daelor orders the venison, moon crab, silver pine soup, and several dishes I’ve never tasted. I add a modest forest sturgeon and wolf–apple pie, and Daelor nods approvingly.
“Wolf–apple’s a smart choice,” he notes. “Especially good for…”
He stops, uncertain whether to finish the thought.
Our food arrives, each plate a work of art. Despite my nerves, I find myself enjoying it–my wolf relishing every nutrient-
dense bite.
Daelor watches me, his gaze attentive, nonjudgmental. “You said you needed to talk,” he prompts, voice gentle.
I set my fork down, steadying myself.
“At the hospital, you offered to help me sever my mate bond with Alarion,” I begin. “I want to accept. Alarion won’t sign. He’s going to fight this every step.”
Daelor is silent, his eyes shadowed with thought.
“Aelira,” he says at last, voice measured. “I meant what I said. But there’s a complication I have to be honest about.”
Dread knots in my stomach. “What is it?”
“Alarion and I…” He hesitates, searching for the words. “We go back a long time. Different territories, but he’s like family to me. Helping you would put me in direct conflict with him.”
My hope dims, wolf whimpering low inside me. I’d been so consumed with desperation, I’d never once considered Daelor’s loyalty to Alarion
