Chapter 23 Secrets in the Waiting Room
Aelira’s POV
“Maybe she’s pregnant,” Oriana murmurs, her eyes shining with the wild thrill of a fresh secret. She leans further around the corner, tracking Cyrinne’s elegant silhouette as it vanishes down the hall.
“Or maybe she picked up something from all her little flings,” she adds, grinning with wicked delight. “Karma’s got a sense
of humor.”
I sigh, my hand instinctively cradling my belly–the fragile life I almost erased, which now feels impossibly precious after seeing its shape on the screen.
her wolf
“Or maybe she’s trying to trap Alarion,” Oriana continues, her wolf prowling just behind her words. “It’d explain why she’s been so desperate, always clinging, always watching.”
go?” My voice comes out thin and tired. I’m wrung out, every nerve raw from the day’s relentless
“Can we please just g
blows
She ignores me, still peeking through the doorway. “Just a second. I want to see if she picks up any prescriptions or paperwork. Could be a clue.”
“Oriana, please.” I slump against the wall, suddenly dizzy. My wolf whimpers, caught between instinct and the chaos of my human heart.
At last, once Cyrinne is gone, Oriana relents. She slips her arm through mine, supporting me as we step into the daylight.
“I’m telling you, she’s hiding something, Oriana insists, voice bright as we cross the parking lot. “Sunglasses and a scarf in July? In the OB/GYN department? Classic guilty behavior.”
I shut my eyes, the sunlight needling my headache. “Please, Anna, can we just not talk about her?”
She opens her mouth to argue, but something in my face silences her. Instead, she squeezes my arm. “Alright. Let’s get you home. You need rest.”
We’re halfway to the car when the low purr of a luxury engine draws our attention. A sleek black vehicle glides up beside us: the window slides down, and Daelor Briarhallow’s eyes–silver–gray, unerringly perceptive–find mine.
“Ladies,” he greets, his voice warm and smooth as whiskey. “Need a ride?”
My wolf perks up at the scent of him–rain–soaked pine, cinnamon, the steady thrum of Alpha power. The response startles
me, confusing in its intensity.
“Actually, we were just heading out for lunch,” Oriana jumps in, before I can answer. “You should join us.”
I shoot her a look, but she only grins.
Daelor’s gaze lingers on me, gentle concern flickering in his eyes. “You look tired, Aelira. Everything alright?”
“I’m fine,” I lie easily, forcing a smile. “Just routine.”
He doesn’t believe me, but lets it go. “Then lunch it is. Hop in.”
Oriana practically shoves me into the front seat while she claims the back. “Such a gentleman, offering a ride and lunch,” she teases.
“I don’t recall offering lunch,” Daelor retorts, amused, “but I’m happy to extend the invitation.”
I fumble with my bag, self–conscious. “You paid last time. If we eat together, it’s my turn.”
He glances my way, lips quirking. “Are we keeping score now, Ms. Sunmere?”
His formality makes me smile–a small, real thing. “Just fairness, Mr. Briarhallow.”
“Where to?” he asks, steering out of the lot with easy confidence.
I think for a moment. “Glimmerrest Hearth? Good lunch specials.”
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Chapter 23 Secrets in the Waiting Room
Daelor’s eyes brighten in recognition. “The place by the old gathering hall? I remember their moon–seared steaks.”
“You’ve been there?” I ask, surprised he’d recall such a humble spot.
“We used to go after territory meetings,” he answers. “You came a few times, I think. With Alarion.”
The mention of my mate–soon to be ex–sends a jolt of pain through me. “Yes,” I say softly. “I remember.”
Sensing the shift, Daelor smoothly turns the conversation to Oriana, asking about her work as territory manager while he drives.
Glimmerrest Hearth is packed with the midday rush: werewolves and humans, laughter and the sharp scent of spices and seared meat. The smells are overwhelming, my stomach lurching with every step.
We find a table in the back, away from the noise. The waitress approaches, eyes widening as she registers Daelor’s
presence.
“Alpha Briarhallow,” she breathes, nearly fumbling her notepad. “What an honor.
He nods with practiced grace. “Thank you. We’ll need a moment with the menus.”
As she hurries away, I arch an eyebrow at him. “Famous everywhere, aren’t you?”
He shrugs, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “It’s a mixed blessing. Makes a quiet lunch a rare thing
We order quickly–moon–seared steak for both Daelor and me, a special herb salad for Oriana. As the waitress leaves, a group of young wolves shoves past our table, one brushing me so hard I nearly stumble.
Daelor reacts instantly, catching my arm with steady, unyielding strength. “Easy,” he murmurs, his hand warm on my skin. “Thank you,” I say, withdrawing my arm, unsettled by the spark his touch sends through me. My wolf is restless, alert. Our food arrives, perfectly rare steaks glistening. The first bite melts on my tongue, rich and bloody and exactly what I need.
“This is just how I remember,” Daelor remarks, savoring his meal.
I nod, eating slowly, careful with my unpredictable appetite.
Oriana’s phone rings–a shrill, urgent sound. She answers, face darkening. “Now? Yes, I’ll be there.” She hangs up. apologetic. “Border dispute. I’m needed.”
Daelor nods. “Go. We’ll be alright.”
Oriana gathers her things, shooting me a pointed look I ignore. “Next bill’s mine, I promise.
And then she’s gone, leaving a quiet that feels instantly charged.
Without Oriana’s chatter, I’m hyperaware of Daelor across from me–his focus, his calm, the way my wolf seems to lean toward him.
“So,” I start, just as he says, “I was thinking-”
We both laugh.
“You first,” he invites.
“I wanted to ask about your grandmother–about the weekend.”
“That’s what I was going to discuss,” he replies. “I’ve arranged for us to leave tomorrow, if you’re ready.”
“Tomorrow?” I echo, startled by the speed.
He nods. “Elowen doesn’t like to wait. She’s… formidable.”
“Formidable,” I repeat, half–laughing. “That’s comforting.”
“She won’t bite,” Daelor assures me, but his smile is tight. “Not you
you, at least.”
We finish the meal quietly, but not awkwardly. When the check comes, I insist on paying. “You can get next time,” I say,
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then pause, unsure if there will be a next time.
Outside, Daelor suggests, “Want to visit the Neutral Grounds? They’re close.”
A pang of nostalgia hits me–the Neutral Grounds, where young wolves once mingled, competed, fell in love. I haven’t been in years.
“Is it even open?” I ask. “I thought they restricted visitors now.”
“They do,” he says, “but I can get us in.”
Curiosity wins out, and I agree. The drive is short. At the gate, the guard waves us through the moment he sees Daelor.
“They really do make exceptions for you,” I comment as we park
He gives a secretive smile. “Elder Maelor and I go way back.”
We walk together through the nearly empty fields and training rings. The place seems smaller, yet every scent and sound brings a flood of memory. I pause at the combat circle, remembering my brother, remembering Alarion–how I’d watched him from the stands, years before our bond.
My wolf whimpers, lost in the tumult of past and present, pain and possibility. Everything feels impossibly heavy–my mother’s death, Alarion’s betrayal, the baby, the looming severance.
Daelor keeps a respectful distance, letting me breathe.
“Maybe we should go,” I say at last, my voice barely above a whisper.
He nods. “Of course.
As we near the exit, a cluster of official–looking wolves approaches, led by Elder Maelor himself–tall, silver–haired, his presence commanding.
“Alpha Briarhallow,” Maelor greets, clasping Daelor’s forearm. “A pleasure, as always. We weren’t expecting you.” “Elder Maelor,” Daelor replies, returning the gesture. “Just showing Ms. Sunmere the old grounds,”
Maelor turns to me, eyes lighting with recognition. “Little Aelira Sunmere! You’ve grown into a beautiful she–wolf.” ! flush, surprised he remembers. Thank you, Elder. It’s been a long time.”
“Indeed,” he agrees, his gaze flicking between us, curiosity clear. “Alpha Briarhallow, your recent donation is already making a difference for our young wolves.”
“Donation?” I turn to Daelor.
Maelor answers before Daelor can. “Alpha Briarhallow has generously funded new training equipment and safety barriers for our trainees. The formal announcement is next week, but we’re already seeing the impact.”
Daelor looks embarrassed, brushing off the praise. “It’s a worthy cause.”
Maelor beams. “Well, when should we expect the marking ceremony invitations? All the elders will want to attend, of course.”
“Marking ceremony?” I echo, thrown.
“For you and Alpha Briarhallow,” Maelor says, as if it’s obvious. “You are to be mated, aren’t you?”
Before I can protest, Daelor’s hand settles, warm and reassuring, at the small of my back. He meets my eyes, his own silver gaze burning with a dozen unspoken promises.
“We’ll make sure the elders get their invitations,” he says smoothly.
My wolf goes utterly still, senses sharpening, as if the future has just shifted–and nothing will ever be quite the same.
