CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
“I’m not hungry,” Luna Celeste whispered, her voice thin and reluctant, even though the rich aroma rising from the tray teased her senses. Seraphine had carried the meal with hope, believing it would help, but now she stood watching the woman she cherished as a sister push it aside with weary determination.

Seraphine sighed. She had seen this before—Alpha Thorne had rejected meals in the same cold, stubborn way, only to secretly eat them later when no one was watching. Maybe Celeste was the same. Maybe if she left the food long enough, Celeste would give in to her body’s need, no matter how broken her spirit felt.

“You need to eat,” Seraphine urged softly, her tone threaded with quiet insistence. “I believe the one who helped clear your name before will step forward again. Don’t let despair take everything from you.”

Celeste managed a faint smile, though sorrow lingered in her eyes. She wanted so desperately to believe her friend, to believe in redemption and rescue. But the image of those innocent souls trapped in the dungeons haunted her relentlessly, their fates tied cruelly to her missteps.

“I wish I could make Alpha Alaric pay for what he did,” Celeste muttered, her voice low and edged with the iron of suppressed rage.

Seraphine reached out and squeezed her hand. “That time will come,” she promised, trusting her brother’s hidden strength. If Alpha Thorne unearthed the murderer who had framed Celeste, the Wolfsbane Pack and its enemies would be thrown into chaos. She understood her brother’s decision to hide his true bond, but she also carried the weight of his deception.

After sharing her comfort, Seraphine departed, leaving the food on the table. As she expected, Celeste eventually gave in. Tentatively, she sampled the meal—Alpha Thorne’s cooking. She had never once imagined a man like him stepping into a kitchen, much less creating something so divine. Before the Hollow Moon Ritual, whispers of his ruthlessness had filled the halls of Moonspire Keep, yet the women who told those stories always sounded drawn to him, bewitched by both his dominance and mystery.

Could they have guessed that he was also a gifted cook?

The first bite surprised her. Every ingredient harmonized perfectly, flavors weaving together with the balance of a master. She blinked, stunned. Even she, skilled as she was in her own kitchen, couldn’t match this precision. One bite turned into another, and though she intended to save some for later, she devoured everything. Her stomach protested from the sudden fullness, but the ache was worth it.

Later that night, freshly showered and clothed in jeans, a simple t-shirt, and worn trainers, Celeste heard a soft knock at the cottage door. She already suspected who it was. No fear flickered in her heart anymore.

Stepping outside into the cool mountain breeze, she found him waiting. The man she knew only as Ryker lounged casually in the garden chair, his back to her, long dark hair tied neatly in a ponytail. The inky tattoo sprawled across his shoulder stirred her curiosity, and she caught herself wondering if he wasn’t cold. Since her wolf’s death, she’d grown sensitive to chill, but she remembered how their kind had once been impervious. Perhaps Ryker’s sleeveless shirts weren’t just bravado, but a lingering trait of a wolf untouched by loss.

Still, she couldn’t ignore how the moonlight etched his figure in sharp relief—the taut lines of his biceps, the carved ridges of his abdomen visible through the thin fabric stretched across his torso. Ryker was striking, magnetic even, though his thick beard felt too wild for her tastes. That secret she kept to herself.

“You were expecting me,” he said at last, his tone laced with quiet amusement as he turned, gray eyes gleaming.

Celeste ignored the teasing in his gaze and lowered herself into the chair beside him. Somehow, after the night before, she felt safer in his company, though she could never admit it aloud.

“I heard Alpha Thorne is near. How did you manage to slip in here unnoticed?” she asked.

Thorne’s heart clenched, though he masked it well. Clearly Seraphine had shared part of the truth, but not all. Whether by design or omission, Celeste still didn’t know everything.

“I waited until he left,” he said smoothly. “Usually his trips would last weeks, sometimes months. But since you arrived, his absences have shortened. Days instead of weeks.” He paused deliberately. “Still, he assigned me tasks outside the pack. I won’t be able to see you again until I return.”

Her chest tightened at his words. Already she had grown accustomed to his visits, to the strange comfort of his presence. And now he would be gone. “What sort of tasks?” she asked, almost timidly.

He relished her interest—it was progress, fragile but real. Yesterday had been agony, carrying the weight of his dual identity. Tonight, though, felt easier. He let a small smile curve his lips.

“You’d have to give me your heart to earn such secrets.” He rose smoothly, extending a hand to her. “The night is young. Walk with me through the Nightbloom Trail.”

She shook her head, staying seated. “I don’t feel like walking tonight.”

“Then are you afraid I’ll harm you?” His voice dropped, shadowed by a pain he couldn’t hide.

Her gaze met his, steady and unwavering. “If you meant to hurt me, you would have done it already.”

Something softened in his chest. “Then thank you—for trusting me.” His hand still hovered between them, warm and inviting, and at last she placed her own into it.

Celeste had never had a true male friend before. Even her female companions had been few, their bonds shallow. Her family and her pack had always been enough—until they weren’t. “How long will you keep coming here?” she asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

“For as long as I’m able,” he answered, sincerity in his tone. “The Alpha rarely comes, but… may I ask you something in return?”

“Of course.”

“Did you quarrel with Alpha Alaric? Was that why he rejected you?”

The question pierced him even as he asked it. How could any man, especially Alaric, turn away from someone like her? Strong, brilliant, beautiful—Celeste was everything a wolf could dream of. If not for his own impossible situation, Thorne would never have let her go.

Celeste shook her head slowly, her voice fragile. “No. I was overjoyed when I learned he was my mate. I waited two years—just like every girl waits. I wanted to feel that bond, to live the dream. At first, he was sweet, promising everything. I believed him.”

Her expression shifted, softening into something vulnerable, almost childlike. The fierce warrior was gone, replaced by the girl who had once dreamed of love.

“I’m surprised,” Ryker murmured, watching her carefully. “You seem untouchable, but right now, you’re just… a girl.”

Celeste gave a wistful smile. “Strength matters in battle, but when peace settles, everyone longs for tenderness. For love. I wanted mornings with breakfast in bed, nights filled with passion…” Her cheeks flushed pink as she realized how much she had revealed. “I—I’m sorry. That was foolish.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said gently. His chest swelled with warmth at her openness. “I could listen to you forever.”

For a moment, the silence stretched, filled only with the mountain breeze rustling through the Nightbloom Glade. Then Celeste looked at him with sudden curiosity.

“Tell me something—have you found your mate?”

Thorne froze, his body taut with nerves. Of all the questions, this was the one he wasn’t prepared to answer.