Chapter 35 Jealousy
Aelira’s POV
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I stand there, caught in the quiet gravity of Daelor’s gaze. His silver–gray
eyes pin me in place, unreadable and deep, stirring something restless in
my wolf. I can’t look away–there’s a question in his stare that I can’t
answer, a longing I don’t dare name.
Dr. Leyric breaks the moment with a teasing laugh. “Daelor, if you glare any
harder at that pastry, you’ll set it on fire.”
Daelor blinks, startled out of whatever reverie had held him. “I’m not staring
at the pastry,” he mutters, then raises his voice. “Go get another one.”
Dr. Leyric just arches an eyebrow, grinning slyly. “You’re giving me orders
now? I’m your doctor, not your lackey.”
“Nyven,” Daelor warns, but there’s no edge to it–just the tired affection of a lifelong friend.
Dr. Leyric throws up his hands. “Alright, alright. I’ll fetch another. But only because I want one myself. The sacrifices I make for friendship.” He dodges as Daelor makes a half–hearted kick at his shin, laughter trailing behind him as he weaves through the crowd.
I can’t help but smile at their banter, the easy warmth between them. It strikes me how effortless their friendship is–their jokes, the comfort. I’ve never once seen Daelor this relaxed with Alarion, despite all his claims about their brotherhood.
“You and Dr. Leyric are close,” I remark, watching Daelor watch his friend.
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He nods, his expression softening. “Since university. There’s hardly anyone
I trust more.”
I savor another bite of pastry, mulling it over. “Alarion always said the two
of you were like brothers.”
A flicker of annoyance glints in Daelor’s eyes. “Alarion likes to exaggerate
when it suits him,” he says quietly, his mouth twisting.
That much is true. Alarion’s always been a master at molding reality to
flatter his own story.
I hesitate, curiosity pricking at me. “Can I ask you something?”
He gives a sly little smile. “You just did.”
I roll my eyes, refusing to be put off. “Why are you helping me? Really helping me. Did Alarion do something to you?”
The question drains the humor from his face. His smile vanishes, replaced by a chill that tightens the air between us. “He did,” Daelor says, voice suddenly low and flat. “He offended me more than you know.”
I blink, thrown off by the sudden coldness. “I don’t understand. Alarion always talks about you like you’re his closest friend.”
Daelor scoffs, the sound brittle. “Of course he does.”
Before I can push further, Dr. Leyric returns, balancing two more pastries,
handing one to each of us.
“You know,” he says, letting the words hang with studied casualness, “I’ve
known Daelor for years, and I’ve never seen him give up dessert to anyone.
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<Chapter 35 Jealousy
You must be special, Ms. Sunmere.”
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Daelor shoots him a glare. “Don’t you have someone else to bother?”
“No one as much fun as you,” Dr. Leyric says cheerfully. “Just calling it like
I see it. Honestly, I still have scars from the time I asked for a bite of your
moon–berry tart.”
I burst out laughing. Their bickering is so honest, so unguarded, it makes
them seem almost ordinary.
“It’s different,” Daelor mutters, then stops, interrupted by the sharp trill of
his phone. He glances at the screen, and something changes in his face–a
tension tightening his jaw. “Excuse me,” he says, stepping aside to answer.
I watch him, the conversation staccato and clipped. “No… Yes, I know…
That’s not–Mother, please.”
The word lands like a stone in my chest. Mother. Elowen Briarhallow,
matriarch of the Nightshade Pack. If she’s calling now, she must have
already heard about Daelor introducing me as his intended mate.
His face is a mask of control, frustration simmering in the rigid line of his
mouth as he listens to her. He glances over at me once, eyes unreadable,
then says, “I know,” and hangs up.
I step forward, concern twisting in my chest. “Is everything alright?”
He shrugs, but his voice is tight. “It’s fine. Family business.”
Guilt prickles through me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into my
mess.”
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<Chapter 35 Jealousy
“No,” he says, too quickly. “Don’t worry about it.”
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But I can’t let it go. Alarion once told me Daelor’s parents had an arranged, loveless mating–cold and calculated. If that’s true, Elowen Briarhallow would never approve of me for her son. I’m a tainted Luna, a divorcee from a rival pack. I have nothing to offer, no noble bloodline, no worthy claim.
“Maybe we should just go,” I suggest softly. “We’ve done what we needed
to.”
Daelor studies me for a long moment. Then he nods. “I’ll take you home.”
The drive back is silent, thick with things unspoken. My wolf paces inside
me, unsettled by the storm of my emotions.
As we pull up to my building, I turn to him. “Thank you for tonight. For everything you’ve done.”
He looks at me, his expression gentling. “You don’t have to keep thanking
me, Aelira.”
“I do,” I say, holding his gaze. “You’ve risked a lot.”
He shakes his head, almost smiling. “Goodnight, Aelira. I’ll call you
tomorrow.”
I nod, watching as his car disappears into the night. Despite his
reassurances, I can’t shake the feeling that my chaos is bleeding into his
life, that I’m dragging him down with me.
Inside, I call Oriana–my anchor, my sanity. I need her take, need to hear
that I’m not crazy.
7:11:52
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“So let me get this straight,” Oriana says after I spill out the whole story.
“Daelor Briarhallow paraded you around as his intended mate, called
Alarion out, and had specialty pastries made for you?”
“Yes, but-”
“And you still think he doesn’t like you?” She sounds scandalized.
“It’s not like that,” I protest. “He’s just trying to help me with Alarion.”
Oriana snorts. “Uh–huh. And I’m secretly a vampire.”
“Anna, I’m serious. I just want to do something for him in return. He’s done
so much.”
She sighs. “Aelira, the man is the Alpha King of the Nightshade Pack. He’s
probably the richest wolf in the territory. What on earth could you give him
that he doesn’t already own?”
It’s a fair question. What do you offer someone who could buy the world?
“It’s not about money,” I say slowly. “I want to show him I appreciate him.
Something personal.”
Oriana considers. “What does he like?”
I rack my memory, coming up empty. “I honestly don’t know. We haven’t had many…personal conversations.”
She hums thoughtfully. “What about a nice lighter? Men love practical gifts.”
“Does he smoke?” I ask, surprised. “I’ve never seen him with a cigarette.”
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Oriana’s voice is confident. “All Alphas have cigars at meetings or parties.
Trust me, a high–end lighter is always useful.”
It seems reasonable. “Alright. I’ll find something nice.”
“Great! I’m free this weekend. We can shop together.”
I smile, relief flooding through me. “Thank you, Anna. I don’t know what I’d
do without you.”
The next few days blur by in a haze of work. I throw myself into overtime at
Verdant Moon Herbalists, desperate to keep my mind busy and prove my
worth. By Friday, my special batch of healing salves–infused with rare
silver pine–earns rare praise from my supervisor.
“These look perfect, Aelira. You have a real gift.”
I glow beneath the compliment. “Thank you. I can’t wait for our next
project.”
As I pack up to leave, Jastor Halden approaches my station. He’s a newer
herbalist, all green eyes and nervous smiles.
“Hey, Aelira,” he says, voice soft. “I was wondering…”
He pulls two tickets from his pocket. “There’s an exhibition tomorrow on
historical herbal remedies at the Cultural Center. It’s supposed to be
incredible–lots of displays on the plants we’ll be working with next week.”
My interest sparks. “That sounds fascinating.”
He hesitates. “Would you like to go? With me, I mean.” There’s hope in his
voice, and a flicker of guilt twists through me.
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“I’m sorry, Jastor. I already have plans with my friend Oriana.”
His face falls, a little crestfallen. “Oh. No problem, I get it.”
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I try to soften the blow. “Thank you for thinking of me. That’s really kind.”
He nods, then thrusts the tickets at me. “Here. Take them.anyway. You and
your friend might enjoy it.”
I hesitate. “I couldn’t-”
“Please,” he insists. “They’ll just go to waste otherwise.”
I finally accept, offering a grateful smile. “That’s generous. Thank you.”
As I leave, Jastor jogs after me. “Wait, Aelira–you left your phone!”
I turn, startled. He hands me my cell, our fingers brushing. “Thank you! I’d
be lost without this.”
He grins. “No problem. Have a great weekend.”
Outside, Oriana is waiting, eyebrows arched in curiosity.
“Who’s the cute guy?” she asks.
I roll my eyes. “Just a colleague. He gave me these–tickets to the herb
exhibition.”
Oriana lets out a low whistle, examining the tickets. “These are expensive, Aelira. Easily a hundred and fifty bucks.”
My jaw drops. “Seriously?”
$14-$2
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“Seriously,” she confirms. “Someone’s got a little crush, if you ask me.”
I shake my head, laughing. “We’re just coworkers. Let’s go find Daelor’s
gift.”
