Chapter 20 Affection
Aelira’s POV
OGIST
Outside the restaurant, I finally manage a lungful of the cool night air. My hands still tremble from our brush with Alarion and Cyrinne, the adrenaline not yet faded. The mere thought of facing them–of seeing Cyrinne’s satisfied little smirk if she ever discovers I’m with Daelor–knots my stomach with dread.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, my voice so quiet it nearly vanishes between us. “I shouldn’t have hidden. I’m Luna of the Thunder Pack–or I was, at least. It should be Cyrinne skulking in corners, not me.”
Heat floods my cheeks, shame prickling beneath my skin. Where is my pride? Where is the woman who slapped Alarion three times in a hospital corridor? Now here I am, shrinking behind Daelor like a child afraid of thunder.
Daelor’s eyes glint with humor, the silver in them catching and scattering the streetlight. “Next time,” he suggests, a mischievous smile curving his lips, “we could just slap them both. You’re obviously good at it.”
My embarrassment deepens to a full flush. “You saw that?”
“The whole hospital saw that,” he teases, laughter warming his tone. “It was… memorable.”
Despite myself, grin. “It felt amazing.”
“I can imagine.” His expression shifts, the levity giving way to something more somber. “I’ve already arranged for a lawyer to take your case. His name’s Beryn Quillon–best in the territory. People call him the Territory’s Undefeated Counsel.”
I stare, momentarily speechless. “You’ve already found a lawyer? But we only just-”
“I like to be ready,” Daelor says simply. “He’ll reach out to you tomorrow.”
Gratitude wells up, so fierce I have to blink fast to keep from crying. “Thank you, Daelor. I don’t even know what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything,” he replies, voice gentle. “Just take care of yourself… and the pup.”
My hand drifts protectively to my abdomen, my wolf shivering with uncertainty. Of course he’s noticed. Alpha senses miss
nothing.
“Does Alarion know?” Daelor asks quietly.
I shake my head, “No. And I’m not sure I want him to.”
He nods, not pushing, “Let me drive you home.”
Morning comes, and as I finish my tea, my phone rings with an unfamiliar number.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Sunmere? Beryn Quillon here. Daelor Briarhallow retained me on your behalf for the mate bond severance.
His voice is crisp, professional, exactly as I’d imagined from someone with his reputation.
“Thank you for calling,” reply, sitting up straighter, as if he might see my posture through the line.
“I understand your situation is… delicate,” he says. “Could you outline your terms for the severance?”
I draw a steadying breath. This is real–it’s happening.
want a clean break,” I say, steady and sure. “No ongoing financial ties. I keep my apartment and personal belongings, but.
I want nothing from Thunder Pack’s assets.”
“That’s more than fair, Beryn notes. “Most Lunas in your position would seek substantial compensation.”
“I don’t want anything that keeps me tethered to Alarion,” I insist.
“And as for custody? Daelor mentioned there might be… other factors.”
My hand moves unconsciously to my stomach. “That isn’t relevant–not at this stage.”
Chapter 20 Affection
Certi
He pauses, respectful. “Understood. I’ll handle all communications. You won’t have to face Alpha Riven unless absolutely
necessary.
When the call ends, I feel lighter, as if the weight of the last months has finally shifted. Even my wolf relaxes, sensing the path to freedom clearing before us.
With new purpose, I tum to what I’ve neglected far too long–my craft: herbal medicine. Alarion always dismissed it as unworthy of a Luna, forcing me to practice in secret, hiding my passion like contraband.
I gather my supplies, hands falling into familiar rhythms after two years away–crushing, mixing, measuring with unconscious confidence. By noon, I’ve prepared five distinctive remedies: a tonic to bolster aging wolves; a balm for shift- induced aches; tea to calm pregnant she–wolves; a salve for battle wounds; and a special blend for moon sickness.
I pack each with careful instructions and send them off to cooperative clinics across the territory. My heart hammers between hope and doubt. What if I’ve lost my touch? What if no one cares?
Before anxiety can take hold, the phone rings again. Alarion.
My stomach drops. Has he already caught wind of the legal proceedings? Is he calling to threaten, to bargain?
I answer, bracing myself. “Hello?”
“Aelira.” His voice is strained, tense in a way that unsettles me. “It’s my mother. She’s sick.”
That’s not what I expect. “Elysande? What’s wrong?”
you.
“The doctor says it’s stress, worry,” Alarion explains, all pretense gone from his tone. “She’s been asking for y
Suspicion prickles along my nerves. “Is this a ploy to bring me back?”
“It’s not a trick,” he answers quickly, a flicker of genuine worry breaking through. “She’s really ill.”
I hear a shuffling, then Elysande’s voice, thin and wavering, comes through the speaker. “Aelira, dear? Are you there?”
My chest tightens Elysande had always stood up for me, shielding me from Roderic’s bitterness and Alarion’s Indifference.
“Elysande? Are you alright?”
“Just a little under the weather,” she says, her voice trembling Nothing for you to fret over.”
But I do fret. Elysande has never stooped to manipulation; she has too much dignity for that.
“I’m coming.” I promise, already pulling on my coat.
The Thunder Pack’s main house rises before me, stony and imposing, its windows cold and watchful. As I hurry inside, the eyes of passing pack members follow me, surprise and speculation flickering in their glances.
Luthen Brielle meets me in the entryway, solemn and respectful. “Thank you for coming, Luna Sunmere. Alpha Mother is upstairs.”
I climb the stairs, heart pounding. When I reach Elysande’s room, the sight of her nearly stops me cold.
She looks fragile, colorless–her face pale, her silver hair limp, her energy drained away as if in a single week she’s aged ten
years.
“Elysande,” I breathe, rushing to her side.
She smiles, weak and grateful, and takes my hand–her skin cold, trembling in my grasp.
“You came,” she whispers, the relief in her words unmistakable. “I wasn’t sure you would.”
I sit beside her, squeezing her hand. “Of course I came. Tell me what happened. Alarion said you’re ill, but…”
“It’s an old affliction,” she explains softly. “My heart. Stress always makes it worse.”
Guilt claws at me. Did I do this? Did my leaving push her past her limits?
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Chapter 20 Affection
“Don’t let it trouble you,” Elysande soothes, reading my thoughts. “I’ve managed this for years–long before you entered our
lives.”
I bite my lip, unable to hide my worry. “I still hate to see you suffering.”
She sighs, her amber eyes–so like Alarion’s–searching my face. “Alarion says you’ve hired legal counsel. You’re really going through with it.”
It’s not a question, but I nod anyway.
She closes her eyes, pain flickering across her features. “It saddens me, Aelira. I had hoped… Well, it no longer matters. You must do what’s best for you.”
“He never really loved me,” I say quietly. “Not the way a mate should.”
Her grip strengthens, feeble but insistent. “That isn’t true, Aelira. He does love you. He’s just… complicated
My wolf whimpers, but I shake my head. “I know you want to comfort me, but it’s not the truth. He’s always belonged to Cyrinne, not me.”
Before Elysande can respond, the door bursts open. Roderic Riven stands in the frame, his presence filling the room–a storm of authority and contempt.
“What are you doing here?” he demands, amber eyes alight with accusation. “Haven’t you caused enough damage?”
I sit taller, refusing to shrink beneath his glare. “I’m here because Elysande asked me to come.
Roderic storms into the room, his Alpha presence crackling, undiminished by age or retirement. “Still playing your games? First you want to break the bond, now you cling to my son like a parasite.”
The words hit, but I hold my ground. “I’m here for Elysande. Not for Alarion.”
Elysande begins coughing, a jagged, wrenching sound that racks her frail body. I jump to help, easing her upright and grabbing the water from her bedside.
“Small sips,” I whisper, holding the glass to her lips, steadying her shoulders. “Take it slow.”
Roderic’s face darkens, his anger deepening. “See what you’ve done? Just being here makes her worse!”
“Roderic, please,” Elysande pleads between coughs, voice raw with strain. “Not now.”
He ignores her, turning his fury on me, finger stabbing through the air. “You’ve been a curse to this family from the beginning! Three years and not a single pup. And now you make my mate sick with your selfishness!”
My wolf bristles, protective and furious. If only he knew–if only any of them knew–I am carrying his grandchild right now. But I bite down on the words, focusing on Elysande, on her pain, not on Roderic’s venom.
“You’re the one upsetting her,” I say, my voice quiet but unyielding. “Not me.”
His mouth twists with rage. “You dare speak that way to me? You’re nothing but a stain–a jinx on the Riven pack’s
bloodline!
Elysande’s face blanches, her breathing growing more ragged as Roderic’s tirade batters the fragile peace of the room. I hold her hand, murmuring comfort, as his anger pours over us both.
“A jinx,” Roderic spits, voice shaking with bitterness. “That’s all you’ve ever been to this family.”
