Chapter 60 Kiss Her
Aelira’s POV
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“Did he admit his feelings to you?” Oriana inquires again, her excitement
evident in her wide eyes.
“No! Absolutely not,” I quickly refute, feeling my wolf whine softly inside me
at the mere suggestion. “How could that even be?”
Oriana leans in closer, completely abandoning her meal. “Then, how are
you certain he has feelings for you?”
éta
The recollection of that moment in the vehicle rushes back to me–Daelor’s
penetrating silver–gray gaze fixed on me while I feigned sleep, his tender
fingers brushing against my cheek. The warmth of his touch sends a surge
of electricity through me, stirring something I’m reluctant to confront.
I can feel my cheeks flush with the memory.
“Look at you, you’re turning red!” Oriana teases, her eyes sparkling with
mischief. “Something definitely transpired!”
I quickly reach for her hand, stopping her before she can elaborate. “That’s enough! I’m trying to have an earnest conversation here.”
“This is serious!” Oriana grasps my hand back, her expression one of
triumph. “I told you that Daelor must be interested in you, and I was right! I
knew it!”
She appears so self–satisfied that I almost feel guilty shattering her
excitement.
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“It’s impossible for us,” I maintain, withdrawing my hand.
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“Why is it impossible?” Oriana presses, her brow furrowing. “He’s an unattached Alpha, and you’re breaking your mate bond. The timing is
ideal!”
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I shake my head, placing a hand on my slightly rounded belly. “He’s an
unattached Alpha, and I’m breaking my mate bond and pregnant. Plus,
considering Daelor’s family background, how could he accept a she–wolf
who’s breaking her mate bond? Not to mention, I’m carrying Alarion’s child
now.”
The exhilaration on Oriana’s face fades as reality sinks in. Her shoulders
visibly droop.
“That sort of desperate love only exists in human films,” I continue gently. “How many werewolves genuinely experience steadfast love? The term
‘well–matched‘ eliminates more than half of potential partners.”
“But his family seemed to welcome you-”
“Besides,” I interject, “I just want to have this baby and raise it. Other concerns are not on my mind right now.”
Oriana lets out a heavy sigh, defeated by my reasoning. “Alright…”
She starts to push her food around on her plate, her expression darkening as her thoughts turn bleak. Suddenly, she slams her fork down on the
table.
“It’s all that worthless Alarion’s doing!” she exclaims angrily.
I shake my head, a bitter smile crossing my lips. “No one is truly
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responsible for this predicament.”
If I had to point a finger, I would only hold myself accountable for being
oblivious and falling for Alarion in the first place.
That thought brings to life a memory I haven’t revisited in years. At sixteen, I had attended pack training at the Neutral Grounds with other young wolves. On that day, I unexpectedly entered my first moon cycle, and my scent became overwhelming–drawing unnecessary attention from the young male wolves surrounding me.
Feeling completely adrift and unable to manage the circumstance, I suddenly find a pack jacket draped over my shoulders, masking my exposed scent. I gaze down at the collar, where “Alarion Riven” is elegantly
stitched in silver thread.
That jacket shields me from unwanted attention and protects my sensitive
young wolf’s dignity. After carefully washing it, I personally return it to
Alarion, expressing my gratitude for his generosity.
He simply nods dismissively and leaves with the jacket tucked under his
arm. However, by then, it is too late–my wolf, just starting to recognize
potential mates, has already chosen him.
From that point onward, I am hopelessly in love, unable to break free from
my emotions. Reflecting on it now, I wonder if I’ve made a mistake from the
outset. Perhaps I should have repaid his kindness with sincerity instead of
dedicating half my life to him.
It’s unfortunate that I only come to this realization now.
“Aelira, Earth to you,” Oriana waves a hand in front of my face. “Where did
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<Chapter 60 Kiss Her
you just disappear to?”
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I blink, shaking off the recollections. “I was just reflecting on the past.”
“Well, stop that. The past is a waste of energy,” Oriana asserts decisively.
“So, are you really going to move out? Even if it means leaving behind this
luxurious apartment?”
I nod, firmly resolved. “I’ll inform Daelor first thing tomorrow.”
True to my word, I start packing my things the next morning. I attempt to
catch Daelor to convey my decision, but his apartment is quiet–he must
have left early.
I make my way to work at Verdant Moon Herbalists, still reeling from
Cyrinne’s dramatic visit the day before. Throughout my shift, I strive to
focus on my moonberry–infused remedies, yet my thoughts keep drifting to
how I plan to explain my decision to Daelor.
When I return to Myrthale Residences that evening, I knock on his door, but
once again, there is no response. His absence is out of character–he typically returns home by this time.
It isn’t until much later, as I am getting ready for bed, that I hear the distinct
ping of the elevator followed by footsteps shuffling in the corridor. Then I hear a heavy thump against my door, as if someone has stumbled into it.
Worried, I rush to open it.
Daelor leans heavily against the doorframe, supported by a man I do not
recognize. His usual polished appearance is in disarray–tie askew, top
buttons undone, hair tousled as if he has constantly raked his hands
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< Chapter 60 Kiss Her
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The unmistakable scent of wolf–whiskey emanates from him, strong
enough to make my pregnant wolf flinch slightly.
“Ms. Sunmere?” The stranger holding Daelor offers me an apologetic grin.
“I’m George Leach, personal assistant to Alpha Briarhallow.”
George is a well–groomed man with keen dark eyes, maintaining a professional demeanor despite the late hour. His poised demeanor suggests a background in training and discipline.
“Alpha Briarhallow had a successful security contract celebration tonight and indulged in a bit too much wolf–whiskey,” he says, adjusting his hold as
Daelor sways slightly.
I anticipate that Daelor is barely aware of his surroundings, yet when he
lifts his head, his silver–gray eyes lock onto mine with surprising clarity.
“Aelira,” he states, his voice deeper than normal but surprisingly steady for
someone who is supposedly under the influence.
Daelor straightens, lifting his weight off George’s shoulder. “That’s enough,
George. Thank you.”
George appears uncertain. “Sir, are you certain-”
Daelor waves him off, his Alpha authority intact despite the effects of
alcohol. “I’m alright. Go back to your family.”
George nods respectfully to both Daelor and me before he leaves, though
he casts a concerned glance over his shoulder just before the elevator
doors seal shut.
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<Chapter 60 Kiss Her
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Daelor motions toward his apartment across the hall. “Come in.”
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It feels more like a command than an invitation, yet there’s an undeniable
quality in his voice that makes it impossible to refuse.
I follow him into his apartment, observing him as he gracefully sinks onto
his couch, surprising me with his poise after a night of heavy drinking.
“You should drink some water,” I state, moving toward his kitchen.
“It’s in the second cabinet on the right,” he calls out.
I locate the glasses exactly where he said, fill one with cold water, and
carry it back to him.
“Drink this,” I instruct him, offering the glass. “I’ll prepare something to
counter the wolf–whiskey. It will ease your hangover tomorrow.”
Without protest, he accepts the water, his gaze fixed on my face as he
drinks. The intensity in his eyes prompts me to quickly avert mine.
In the kitchen, I gather the materials needed for a basic herbal remedy–a blend of moon sage, silver pine, and crushed moonberries. It’s an old recipe my mother taught me, intended specifically to mitigate the effects
of wolf–whiskey on a werewolf’s body.
By the time I return to the living room with the warm liquid in a mug, Daelor
has drifted off on the couch. He sprawls comfortably, one arm shielding his eyes while the other dangles down. His chest rises and falls
rhythmically, his Alpha scent intertwining with the potent aroma of wolf-
whiskey.
I pause, uncertain whether to wake him. The remedy would be more
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effective if administered right away, but he looks incredibly serene.
“Daelor,” I call gently, setting the mug on the coffee table. “You need to
wake up and drink this.”
When he doesn’t respond, I tentatively reach out to touch his shoulder.
“Daelor?”
His eyes snap open, silver–gray irises locking onto mine with stunning
clarity. “Aelira,” he rumbles, my name sounding husky from his throat.
Relief floods over me. At least he seems coherent and not entirely lost to
the effects of wolf–whiskey.
“I prepared something to help alleviate the effects,” I say, reaching for the
mug. “It doesn’t taste wonderful, but-”
F
Before I can finish my sentence, he suddenly reaches out and grabs my
wrist. The abruptness causes me to lose my balance, and I stumble
forward with a startled exclamation.
The mug slips from my hand, the herbal mixture spilling onto his costly rug,
but neither of us notices. I find myself drawn into his embrace, my body
pressed against his strong chest.
“Daelor, what are you-”
“Shh,” he whispers, tightening his hold around me.
I attempt to push up, but his Alpha strength keeps me firmly in place. His
wolf scent envelops me, overwhelming my senses.
His face hovers mere inches from mine, his breath warmth against my
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skin. Although the aroma of wolf–whiskey is potent, there’s something deeper beneath–something distinctly Daelor that stirs my own wolf within
- me.
I sense his gaze fixed on me, intense and searing. His silver–gray eyes reflect the moonlight filtering through the window, making them appear
almost radiant in the dim space.
He moves closer, the purpose of his actions clear.
Surprised, I instinctively raise my hand, covering his mouth. We both remain still for a brief moment, my palm against his lips while his eyes
widen slightly in astonishment.
Gradually, with intent, he lifts my hand from his face. His fingers encircle my wrist, gentle yet possessive. I cannot divert my gaze from his eyes, paralyzed as he leans in again.
Then his lips find mine, capturing them in a kiss that tastes of wolf-
whiskey and something distinctly Daelor.
