Chapter 53 Sleep Together
Aelira’s POV
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The instant Daelor pulls me close and claims me as his mate, the entire
crowd goes silent, their hushed murmurs quickly filling the space. Dozens
of eyes track our steps as he guides me through the gathering.
“That’s Alpha Briarhallow’s new she–wolf…”
“Isn’t she Alarion Riven’s Luna?”
“I heard they’re breaking their mate bond…”
None of the whispers is subtle. My wolf shifts uneasily beneath my skin,
unsettled by the focused attention.
“Don’t pay them any mind,” Daelor whispers near my ear, his warm breath
sending a shiver through me. “They’re simply curious.”
He steers us toward a quieter lounge area, away from the denser part of
the crowd. His arm rests along the back of the sofa behind me–not quite
touching, but close enough that his distinct Alpha scent surrounds me like
a protective cloak.
“If you want to go, just say so,” he tells me, his silver–gray eyes scanning
my face with concern. “We don’t have to stay.”
I shake my head, unwilling to make him feel awkward in front of his pack. “I’m okay. Honestly.”
A tall werewolf with silver strands streaking through his dark hair strides over, his stance respectful even though his rank seems high.
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“Alpha Briarhallow,” he begins, “I wanted a word about the northern border
security plans.”
Daelor acknowledges him with a nod but doesn’t shift away from me.
“What’s on your mind, Harris?”
They dive into a detailed conversation about alliances and defensive
strategies, but I find myself studying Daelor instead. His presence remains dominant as he discusses difficult pack matters, yet every so often, he
reaches out to a tray carried by a passing server and hands me a moon-
berry treat.
“Try this,” he says each time, pausing his conversation momentarily to offer me a pastry or drink. “You’ll like it.”
And each one is exactly what my pregnant wolf has been craving–even
though I haven’t said a single word. How does he always know?
Once their discussion wraps up, a group of pack members approaches,
inviting Daelor to take part in a traditional card game called Moon Hunt.
Daelor looks at me with a questioning lift of his brow.
“Want to join us?” he asks.
I pause, uncertain. “I don’t really know how it’s played…”
“I’ll show you,” he replies, his smile softening the sharp edges of his usual
stern expression.
Before I can decline, he’s already pulling me into the game, occasionally placing his hand over mine to guide how I play my cards. To my surprise, I
end up winning several rounds in a row.
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“Must be beginner’s luck,” one of the players mutters, forcing a smile.
But as the game continues, I begin to catch the subtle glances exchanged between the others. They’re letting me win. Not because I’m skilled–but because I’m sitting beside their Alpha. And with each win, I’m not just collecting cards–I’m gathering favors they now owe to Daelor.
My wolf shifts uneasily at the awareness settling in. I have no desire for special treatment stemming from a bond that doesn’t even exist in truth.
“I’ll sit this round out,” I say, setting my cards aside.
Daelor glances at me with mild curiosity but chooses not to question it.
As the night continues, conversations meander from general pack affairs to rumors involving other packs.
“Anyone hear about Cyrinne Wynthor and Alarion Riven?” a younger wolf pipes up, apparently oblivious to my presence. “Looks like they’ve made up.
Word is, his Luna-”
He cuts himself off mid–sentence as Daelor’s steely silver gaze locks onto him, cool and sharp. The air chills subtly, his Alpha presence flaring–not hostile, but unmistakably cautioning.
The color drains from the young wolf’s face. “S–sorry, Alpha. I didn’t mean any offense.”
A tense hush settles over us until another packmate jumps in to defuse the moment.
“Please ignore Jensen’s lack of tact,” she says, giving him a scolding look. “His mouth operates faster than his brain sometimes.”
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Heat rushes to my face, burning with humiliation. So it’s out now–my
broken bond with Alarion, the mate tie cut. All of it is common knowledge.
Inside, my wolf whines with unease.
“We could use some fresh air,” Daelor murmurs beside me, his hand gently
resting at the small of my back.
Out on a balcony bathed in moonlight, away from prying ears, I finally give
voice to the worry gnawing at me.
“Do you think your grandmother knows?” I ask, arms crossed over my chest, though the evening is mild. “About the severed mate bond, I mean.”
Daelor leans against the balcony’s edge, moonlight casting strong.
shadows across his form. “She probably does.”
My stomach sinks. “But the whole point was for her to disapprove of me
because of that. If she already knows and doesn’t care…”
“Does it really change anything?” he replies calmly, his tone unreadable in
the dim glow.
“It changes everything!” My frustration spills out before I can stop it. “This was supposed to be straightforward. You help me deal with the bond
severance, and I help you make your grandmother believe you’re ready to
settle down. Then we part ways.”
A faint smile touches Daelor’s lips, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Is that
all you believe this is?”
His question throws me. What is he implying? Before I can ask, he pushes off the railing with quiet strength.
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“Don’t overthink, Aelira. Just keep playing your role,” he says, his Alpha calm, reassuring yet frustrating. “Things will unfold as they should.”
His casual dismissal leaves me with more doubts than clarity, my wolf
pacing restlessly as we head back into the Briarhallow estate.
That night’s dinner is a quieter affair–just Daelor, his grandmother Elowen,
and me–held in a dining room that, though cozy, still radiates opulence. Elowen has prepared the meal herself, placing a steaming bowl of silver
pine soup in front of Daelor with evident pride.
Daelor eyes the bowl with a hint of distaste. “Grandmother, I’ve told you-”
“It strengthens an Alpha,” Elowen interjects without missing a beat. “Silver
pine’s benefits are well–documented and time–tested.”
Daelor nudges the bowl away slightly. “I don’t need it.”
Elowen turns to me with a knowing smile. “Maybe you can convince him,
dear? A mate’s persuasion often works where a grandmother’s cannot.”
I end up trapped between them, uncertain of how I fit into this complex
family situation.
“It really does offer impressive benefits,” I say carefully, letting my herbalist
instincts take over. “Silver pine enhances the wolf’s link to its human
nature.”
Daelor throws me a wounded glance. “Whose side are you even on?”
I catch myself before I laugh. “The side that favors wellness?”
Elowen bursts into laughter. “I like her, Daelor. She’s got brains.”
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With a dramatic groan, Daelor pulls the bowl back toward him. “If I drink
this, will that stop you from making it every time I show up?”
“Maybe,” Elowen replies, feigning innocence.
Daelor’s silver–gray gaze meets mine, a playful spark flickering in his eyes.
“Mark my words, Aelira. Revenge will come when you least expect it.”
His teasing threat sends a surprising thrill through me as he downs the
soup in three large gulps, grimacing for emphasis.
Later, a young female attendant leads us upstairs to the sleeping quarters.
She pushes open a heavy wooden door, unveiling a lavish room centered
around a grand four–poster bed.
“The Alpha’s chambers are ready for both of you,” she tells us with a
respectful nod. “Is there anything more you need?”
My breath hitches as realization dawns–we’re expected to share the
space. And the bed.
Once she leaves, I turn to Daelor with wide eyes. “Are we seriously sleeping
in the same den?”
He gives me a look like I’ve asked something ridiculous, the lamplight
catching in his silver–gray eyes. “Aren’t we?”
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