Chapter 118 The Gathering
Alberto sat up abruptly, the sheets pooling around his waist as he pushed Fernando’s hand away from his hip. His body still hummed with the aftershocks of what they’d done, what he’d allowed and his skin burned where Fernando had touched him.
Fernando smirked, propping himself up on one elbow. “Going somewhere?”
Alberto swung his legs over the edge of the bed, wincing slightly. “Yes. Away from you.”
Fernando chuckled, low and warm. “Try walking straight first.”
Alberto shot him a glare over his shoulder. “You almost tore my ass in half.”
Fernando sat up fully, eyes glinting with amusement and something softer, something like awe. “That’s what you asked for,” he said simply.
Alberto opened his mouth to retort, but the memory of his own desperate whispers harder, please, don’t stop flashed through his mind. He shut his mouth, cheeks flushing.
Fernando stood, stretching lazily before stepping closer. “Want to freshen up together?”
Alberto froze. Then, with a sharp glance, he snapped, “My ass is on fire. I can’t risk you ‘accidentally’ touching me again.”
He practically bolted into the bathroom and locked the door behind him.
Inside, he leaned against the cool wood, pressing his forehead to it. His reflection in the mirror looked like wrecked lips swollen, eyes bright, neck marked with faint bruises. He turned on the water, splashed his face, and tried to steady his breathing.
When he finally stepped out, wrapped in a clean robe, Fernando was gone.
Alberto exhaled in relief or disappointment. He wasn’t sure which.
He dressed quickly in dark trousers and a loose tunic, then headed down the hall toward the main wing, where the gathering was being held.
Halfway there, he ran into Kael and Lucia.
Kael took one look at him and shook his head slowly, a knowing grin spreading across his face. “Well, well.”
Alberto smiled awkwardly, adjusting his collar to hide the bite mark near his collarbone. “Shut up.”
Lucia narrowed her eyes, studying him. “Are you okay? You’re… walking funny.”
Kael snorted. “Someone got eaten badly.”
Alberto’s face burned. He shoved Kael hard enough to make him stumble back. “I swear to the old gods—”
Lucia covered her mouth, eyes wide with laughter. “Oh, it’s true! Look at your ears they’re red!”
Before Alberto could defend himself, a familiar voice cut through the hallway.
“Aren’t you three supposed to be at the gathering?”
They all turned.
Fernando stood a few paces away, freshly dressed in formal Alpha robes, silver-threaded and severe but his expression was anything but. His gaze lingered on Alberto, soft, possessive, unashamed.
Kael and Lucia immediately bowed. “Alpha,” they murmured in unison, then hurried past him down the corridor, leaving Alberto alone.
Alberto shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of every ache, every mark, every lingering scent of Fernando on his skin.
Fernando stepped closer. “You’re limping.”
“I’m fine,” Alberto muttered.
Fernando didn’t argue. In one smooth motion, he scooped Alberto up into his arms, bridal style.
Alberto yelped. “What are you doing? Put me down!”
“No,” Fernando said, already walking. “You’ll be late. And I want everyone to see you.”
Alberto struggled half-heartedly, but his body betrayed him he leaned into Fernando’s chest, exhaustion and warmth pulling him under.
When they entered the grand hall, conversation died.
Every elder, every warrior, every servant turned to stare.
Then, as one, they rose to their feet not out of fear, but respect.
For him.
Alberto kept his eyes down, heart pounding.
Fernando carried him all the way to the dais and set him gently on the seat beside his own.
Darius, standing near the wine table, raised an eyebrow. He sidled up to Fernando as servants began pouring drinks.
“You never join these things,” Darius murmured, voice low. “Why start now?”
Fernando didn’t look at him. His eyes were fixed on Alberto, who was trying and failing to sit comfortably.
“Because,” Fernando said quietly, “I’m ready to break down the walls I built around myself… just so he fits into my world.”
He paused, then added, voice rough with something like wonder, “And I want to try every damn thing that makes him happy even if it terrifies me.”
Darius studied him for a long moment. Then, for the first time in weeks, he smiled not coldly, not sarcastically, but genuinely.
“Good,” he said. “About time.”
Kael stood abruptly, a clay cup sloshing with spiced mead in his hand. He raised it high, voice ringing clear over the low hum of conversation.
“To Alberto!” he called, grinning. “For winning the Mate Duel fair, fierce, and in full wolf glory! And for finally claiming what was always his: his wolf, his place, and his mate!”
A cheer erupted through the hall. Cups clinked. Elders pounded the tables. Even the sternest betas cracked smiles as they lifted their drinks.
Alberto, still seated beside Fernando on the dais, ducked his head, but a small, genuine smile tugged at his lips. “You didn’t have to make it dramatic,” he muttered.
“I absolutely did,” Kael shot back, already hopping down from his bench. “Now get off that fancy chair. Tonight’s not about ranks, it's about wolves. Real ones.”
He turned to the room, arms wide. “We’re playing games! Bonding time. No Alphas, no Betas, no servants just pack. So roll up your sleeves and sit on the damn floor like the rest of us!”
Murmurs of agreement spread. Warriors began dragging cushions and furs into the center of the hall, forming a large, uneven circle. Someone produced a worn leather bottle and placed it in the middle.
Fernando frowned. “I don’t think—”
“Don’t think,” Alberto cut in, tugging at his sleeve. “Just come. You said you wanted to try things that make me happy? This is one of them.”
Fernando hesitated, glancing at the elders, at Darius, at the sheer informality of it all. But then he saw the light in Alberto’s eyes the first real joy since the duel and nodded stiffly.
“Fine. But if someone spills wine on my cloak, I’m feeding them to the hounds.”
Laughter followed as they moved to the circle. Fernando sat reluctantly on a thick fur, back straight, arms crossed. Alberto flopped down beside him, legs stretched out, already reaching for a cup.
Kael plopped down opposite them, spinning the bottle with a flick of his wrist. “Rules are simple. Bottle spins. Points to someone. They either answer a question truthfully or take a drink. No lying. No skipping. And if you refuse both? You howl like a pup for ten seconds.”
Lucia snorted. “That’s brutal.”
“Life’s brutal,” Kael said with a wink. “Now, who’s first?”
The bottle spun.
It landed on Elder Vorn.
Kael grinned. “Truth or drink?”
Vorn scowled but took a long swig from his cup. “Drink. Always safer.”
The game continued light at first. Questions about first shifts, embarrassing hunts, secret crushes. Laughter filled the hall. Even Darius cracked a smile when forced to admit he’d once cried during a thunderstorm as a pup.
Then the bottle pointed at Fernando.
Kael’s eyes gleamed. “Truth… or drink?”
Fernando sighed. “Truth.”
“Did you know Alberto was Beau Crante before the mask came off?”
Silence fell.
Fernando glanced at Alberto, then back at Kael. “No. Not until the moment it slipped.”
Murmurs rippled through the circle.
The bottle spun again.
This time, it pointed to Alberto.
Fernando leaned forward slightly. “Truth or drink?”
Alberto smirked. “Truth.”
“Why’d you hide your face?” Fernando asked quietly.
Alberto’s smile faded. “Because the last time I showed my true self in a pack like this, they called me a weakling, a nobody. I wasn’t ready to be torn apart again.”
Fernando’s jaw tightened. He reached over and squeezed Alberto’s knee under the table. “Not here.”
Alberto nodded, looking away.
The mood shifted softer now. Deeper.
Elder Soje, emboldened by mead, cleared his throat drunkenly. “Back in my youth, during the Blood Moon Siege, we ran out of arrows. So we sharpened wolf bones from our fallen. Fought for three days on nothing but rage and marrow.”
A warrior near the edge added, “My sire once dueled a rogue Alpha bare-handed. Broke both his arms but won his mate back.”
Story after story unfolded of loyalty, loss, impossible courage.
The bottle spun again.
Pointed at Darius.
Kael raised an eyebrow. “Truth or drink?”
Darius stared at the bottle for a long moment. Then, quietly: “Truth.”
“Do you still believe Samael’s guilty?” Lucia asked before anyone else could speak.
Darius didn’t flinch. “The evidence says yes.”
“But your heart?” Kael pressed.
Darius looked at Fernando, then at Alberto. “My heart’s been wrong before.”
Another spin.
The bottle stopped on Lucia.
She groaned. “Ugh. Fine. Truth.”
Kael leaned forward. “Have you ever kissed someone in this room?”
Lucia’s cheeks flushed crimson. She grabbed her cup and downed it in one go. “Next!”
Laughter exploded.
The night wore on mead flowed, stories grew wilder, inhibitions faded.
At one point, Fernando found himself leaning against Alberto’s shoulder, half-drunk, listening to Kael recount the time he’d accidentally set the armory on fire trying to impress a visiting beta.
Alberto’s fingers laced with his.
No words were needed.
For the first time in years, the Alpha wasn’t alone on his throne.
He was just Fernando.
And beside him, finally whole, was Alberto not Luna, not victor, not enigma—
Just his mate.
And in the circle of their pack, that was enough.