Chapter 50 Faithful Partner
Aelira’s POV
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The scent of expertly crafted werewolf cuisine surrounds me as I sit across from Daelor in the private dining room of Lake Restaurant. Following the tense encounter with Alarion and Cyrinne, I anticipated my appetite would disappear. Instead, I find myself voracious.
“You must try this,” Daelor urges, indicating a platter of moonberry–glazed venison. “It’s their specialty.”
I take a bite and can’t hold back a small moan of delight. The rich, gamey taste paired with the tart sweetness of moonberries is exquisite.
“Good?” he inquires, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
I nod eagerly. “It’s amazing.”
My wolf stirs happily within me, pleased by the protein–rich dish. My pregnancy has shifted my cravings unexpectedly, causing me to desire foods that nourish both myself and my growing pup.
“Here, sample the silver pine–infused mushrooms,” Daelor offers, placing
some on my plate before I can reply.
His thoughtfulness catches me off guard. Alarion never paid such close
attention to my likes and dislikes, even before Cyrinne re–entered our lives.
“These provide essential nutrients that werewolves require,” Daelor elaborates, presenting me with a marrow–rich bone that wolves particularly seek for strength. “Especially for female wolves.”
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I wonder if he somehow suspects my pregnancy. But that seems implausible–I’ve been cautious not to display any obvious symptoms
around him.
“Their moon–seared lamb shank is subpar,” Daelor comments after tasting
the dish. “I could whip up a better version at home.”
I nearly choke on my water. “You can cook that?”
The image of the formidable Alpha King standing at a stove, crafting an
intricate dish like moon–seared lamb, strikes me as nearly humorous.
Daelor’s silver–gray gaze sparkles with delight. “There’s much about me
you haven’t discovered yet, little wolf.”
This nickname unexpectedly warms me. My wolf stirs, oddly satisfied by it.
Once we’ve finished our meal, Daelor reclines in his chair. “What do you
think about taking a stroll? There’s a mall close by; it could aid digestion.”
“I’m not interested in shopping,” I respond, puzzled by his sudden idea.
Daelor’s demeanor shifts slightly to embarrassment. “Actually, I was
hoping we could get you some clothes for tomorrow’s visit to Nightshade
Pack territory.”
I look at him in disbelief. “Nightshade Pack territory? I thought we were only
visiting your grandmother.”
“My grandmother resides in Nightshade Pack territory,” he clarifies, as if it
should have been clear. “Did I forget to mention that?”
“Yes, you did!” I can’t fathom how he missed sharing such a vital piece of i
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nformation. “You didn’t mention anything about going to Nightshade Pack
territory!”
Daelor chuckles, seeming to find my confusion amusing. “Didn’t you say you wouldn’t be scared of being ‘sold to pack hunters‘ by me?”
I recall our previous discussion and narrow my gaze. “That’s not what we
agreed on.”
“My grandmother has been urging me to bring home a potential mate,” he explains, his potent Alpha scent remaining calm. “She’s threatening to come across territories to ‘tear my ears off‘ if I don’t oblige her soon.”
“And I am your choice for this ruse?” I inquire, incredulous.
“Who else could be better suited?” He shrugs nonchalantly. “You saved her
life three years ago. She is already fond of you.”
I think back to the elderly she–wolf I aided at the Neutral Grounds during a territory gathering. I had no clue she was Elowen Briarhallow, the matriarch of the most powerful werewolf family in the Northern Territory.
“Furthermore,” Daelor adds, “your situation is ideal.”
“My situation?” I repeat, surprised.
His expression softens a bit. “You’re parting ways with Alarion, and you’re
expecting his pup. Grandmother will comprehend why pursuing anything
serious with you is impossible for me.”
My breath catches. He knows. Somehow, he is aware of my pregnancy.
“How did you-”
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“Your scent has altered,” he replies gently. “And you’ve been craving foods that pregnant she–wolves typically seek.”
Heat rushes to my face in embarrassment. I had assumed I was being
covert.
“Don’t fret,” he reassures me, reaching across the table to touch my hand.
“Your secret remains with me. And this makes our pretense more
believable. Grandmother will be sympathetic but will ultimately disapprove of you as my mate.”
I weigh his proposition. It’s not unreasonable. After all, he assisted me in severing my mate bond and provided a safe haven.
“Alright,” I concede hesitantly. “But I already have appropriate clothes.”
“Allow me to be the judge of that,” he insists, standing and offering his
hand to me.
The following morning, we depart for Nightshade Pack territory in Daelor’s luxury SUV. I nervously pull at the emerald green dress we selected yesterday, apprehensive about whether it’s suitable for meeting the Nightshade Pack matriarch.
“Quit fidgeting,” Daelor remarks, his gaze briefly diverted from the road to
glance at me. “You look perfect.”
As we drive through the heavily fortified border, I notice how distinct the Nightshade Pack feels in comparison to the Thunder Pack. The forests
appear denser, the air is cooler, and the wolves we encounter radiate a
quiet confidence that even the finest warriors of Thunder Pack lack.
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Daelor presents himself differently in this setting. Clad in a meticulously tailored charcoal gray suit, he appears more formidable, more dignified. Several wolves acknowledge the presence of their Alpha King by instinctively lowering their heads as we pass.
“Are you feeling good?” Daelor inquires, disrupting the silence. “Are you hungry? If you want, we can make a stop at a local pack restaurant.”
“I’m okay,” I reply, committed to fulfilling my role effectively. “I’m ready
when you are.”
His lips curve into an approving smile. “That’s good to hear.”
As we near what I assume is the Briarhallow family compound, Daelor unexpectedly reaches across the console and grasps my hand. The unanticipated contact sends a jolt through my body.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, taken aback.
“I thought you were ready?” he teases, intertwining our fingers securely.
His touch ignites an unfamiliar warmth within me. My palm starts to sweat, and my wolf stirs inquisitively inside. The sensation is unsettling.
We arrive at the main building, where a stylish black luxury SUV adorned with the Nightshade Pack emblem awaits. A young werewolf with the distinctive gray eyes of the Briarhallow family leans casually against it, removing his sunglasses as we approach.
“Finally!” he exclaims cheerfully. “I’ve been waiting for over an hour,
cousin!”
His scent confirms his relation to Daelor, though he lacks the dominant
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When his inquisitive gaze falls on me, he breaks into a broad smile. “And
who might this beautiful she–wolf be?”
Daelor responds with a playful growl. “Refer to her as my intended mate,
Thomas.”
Thomas Briarhallow’s eyes widen for a moment before he recovers with a
dramatic bow. “Welcome to the family, cousin–in–law!”
“This is Thomas, my younger cousin,” Daelor clarifies for me, wrapping his
arm protectively around my shoulders. “He may lack manners, but his
enthusiasm certainly makes up for it.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I say politely, feeling uncomfortable under
Thomas’s gaze.
Thomas opens the SUV door for us with a flourish. “Grandmother has been eagerly anticipating your arrival. She has been bustling around the main house all morning getting ready for your visit.”
Once settled in the backseat, Daelor continues to hold my hand. His fingers playfully twirl around mine, despite my bashful attempts to pull away.
“Stay still,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear as his Alpha scent surrounds me. “The performance begins now.”
M
His touch brings my wolf into an unusual, content state that perplexes my human side. I remind myself that this interaction is purely a facade–an arrangement benefiting both parties involved.
So, why does it feel so instinctive to have our fingers entwined?
My wolf seems undeterred, finding a serene state unlike anything I’ve experienced before. It’s as if she perceives a connection with Daelor that
my conscious mind cannot–or will not–recognize.
“Are you prepared to meet the family?” Daelor asks, his silver–gray eyes
searching my own.
I nod, noticing how close our faces are. “As ready as I will ever be.”
