CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Alpha Thorne stood unmoved, his expression as unreadable as stone. Knowing now that she was completely human, a strange thought crossed his mind. Perhaps it was the perfect chance to test her resilience.

“I heard whispers that you once had the strength of a Luna wolf,” he murmured, his tone edged with mockery. “Let’s see how much of that remains.”

Before Celeste could respond, he chuckled low and kicked lightly against her back. The force was enough to send her stumbling forward, but she managed to keep her balance, her breath caught in surprise. She whirled around, only to find that he had already leapt into motion.

In a blur, Thorne climbed one of the towering trees beside them. His movements were so fast, so precise, that Celeste could only gape at him. For a fleeting moment, she forgot her fear and stared in awe at his muscular frame perched effortlessly among the branches.

Something inside her shifted. She had never seen him like this. Not as the cold Alpha, not as the man who had bound her fate, but as a warrior with skill so natural it seemed almost unreal. Perhaps he truly was one of the strongest in the Wolfsbane Pack.

Climbing had never been her strength, but Celeste refused to falter. She placed her foot against the bark and began pulling herself up, though her progress was slow and clumsy. Before she could reach him, Thorne grasped a higher branch, swung effortlessly, and leapt across to another tree as though gravity had no hold on him.

“Hey!” Celeste gasped, frustrated but astonished. “How in the goddess’s name did you do that? You climbed faster than lightning and just—just flew from one branch to the next!”

From his perch, Alpha Thorne laughed freely, the sound rolling deep from his chest. He leaned against the trunk, peering down at her through the veil of leaves. “Give me your heart, and I’ll teach you.”

His words, laced with mischief, struck her ears but not her soul. Celeste’s jaw tightened. It was impossible for her to imagine finding another mate; love was a wound she refused to reopen.

Ignoring his teasing, she tried to mimic his moves. She grasped a thick branch and attempted to hoist herself higher. But the wood cracked sharply beneath her grip, and with a startled cry, she lost her hold. Celeste braced for the impact of the ground—only to realize she wasn’t falling onto cold earth at all.

Instead, she landed hard against the warmth of a body.

Her eyes flew open. She was sprawled across Alpha Thorne himself, who had somehow descended in time to catch her. Coughing and bewildered, she stammered, “H-how did you get here before me?”

He tightened his arms slightly around her to steady her before letting her roll aside. In truth, he could not stand to see her injured again after her leg had taken so long to heal. This time, he’d made sure to act fast, cushioning her fall with his own body.

The closeness stirred something dangerous in the air. Her faint scent—soft, subtle, carrying the fragrance of her bathing oils—brushed against him. Thorne smirked, leaning closer to her ear. “You’re enjoying my body, aren’t you? How much are you willing to pay for that privilege?”

Heat flooded Celeste’s cheeks. She scrambled off him, her hands shaking as she dusted herself off. “I told you—I have nothing to give. But… thank you for saving me.” She hesitated, then asked cautiously, “What’s your name?”

For the briefest moment, Alpha Thorne faltered. He hadn’t prepared a disguise, but he couldn’t reveal himself so easily. His mind seized upon the first name that surfaced.

“Ryker,” he said smoothly.

Celeste managed a small, grateful smile and offered her hand. “You can call me Cel. ‘Celeste’ feels too formal.”

He took her hand quickly, his grip firm but playful. Her skin was soft, almost fragile beneath his rough fingers. With a boldness that startled her, he brushed his lips across the back of her hand. “Cel, then.”

She pulled back at once, suspicion flashing in her eyes. What sort of man kissed a woman’s hand so easily after just meeting her? “Well, yes,” she muttered, her voice tight. “It’s only my family who calls me that. But… you may, I suppose.”

The thought made his chest stir strangely. Family. She had included him in that small circle, even without knowing who he was. A grin tugged at his lips as he exaggerated a groan and pointed to his back. “Worth it—even with a broken bone.”

Her expression shifted instantly to worry. “You’re injured? Let me see—”

Thorne laughed, disguising his tone to keep her from recognizing him. “Just kidding. But it’s been nice talking. I should go. I only dared to sneak here because the Alpha is away. If he found me in this territory, he’d tear me apart.”

The emptiness in her chest startled her. She should have been glad to see him leave, yet the thought unsettled her. Even beneath the pale moonlight where his features were blurred, she could tell he was no monster. His face carried strength, but also a strange familiarity.

“And what about your moves?” Celeste asked softly. “Won’t you teach me?”

Thorne’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. He wanted nothing more than to train her, to push her harder, to see her rise stronger. But dawn’s light was already creeping through the trees, and he could not risk being seen by Seraphine when she came to visit.

“Another time, Cel,” he promised. His voice dropped, softer. “But only if you give me your heart.”

Her gaze fell to the ground, her voice laced with quiet sorrow. “I wish I could. But love isn’t made for me. I’m nothing more than a slave.”

Her words cut him deeper than he expected. He clenched his fists against the ache. “No. To me, you are a queen. Your beauty is unlike anything I’ve ever known. Think about it, Cel. I’ll come back.”

With that, he blurred into the shadows of the Nightbloom Glade, vanishing from sight. Celeste was left standing in silence, her heart heavy with a strange, unspoken longing. Exhaustion weighed on her mortal body; she could no longer run after him. Turning back toward the cottage, her steps dragged with weariness.

Yet as she neared the Moonveil Garden, her spirits lifted faintly. Sitting there in one of the chairs, waiting patiently, was Seraphine.

“Seraphine?” Celeste blinked, surprised. “Why are you here so early?”

Seraphine’s eyes brightened at the sight of her. She had already searched the cottage and found it empty, her worry growing with each moment. “Cel! Where have you been?”

“In the woods,” Celeste replied quickly. She hesitated, unwilling to mention the mysterious warrior who had found her. Instead, she offered a vague excuse. “I needed to let out my wolf.”

“That’s good.” Seraphine studied her carefully, then added, “But Cel, there are rumors—rumors spreading from the Wolfsbane Pack.”

Celeste’s heart skipped. She forced a smile, though dread coiled inside her. “Rumors? About what?”

As they walked inside the cottage to prepare breakfast, Seraphine lowered her voice. “Some of the pack members revolted against Alpha Alaric. Because of you.”

Celeste froze mid-step. A storm of emotions rushed through her, threatening to tear her apart. She had never imagined that those who once clamored for her execution would rise in rebellion on her behalf. A bitter, twisted smile touched her lips.

“They shouldn’t have,” she whispered.

“You sound like you already know what Alpha Alaric will do,” Seraphine said cautiously. When Celeste turned to her with wide eyes, she continued, “They’re locked in the dungeon. And he forbade anyone in the pack from ever speaking your name again.”

Celeste’s fists clenched. A dozen thoughts swirled in her mind, each one pulling her in a different direction. And then, suddenly, an idea began to take shape.