Chapter 81 Does he seek another wife?
Maureen Laskovic
The heavy oak door to Vuk’s office creaked open under my palm, the sound too loud in the stillness.
He wasn’t here.
Of course he wasn’t.
The room smelled of him—smoke, cedar, iron, and that faint metallic bite of old blood that never quite left his skin—but it was cold. The fire in the grate had burned down to embers hours ago. Papers lay scattered across the massive desk in the precise chaos only Vuk could create: maps of the northern border marked in red ink, a half-finished letter, the wax seal still unbroken beside his dagger. His chair was pushed back as though he’d risen suddenly and never returned.
I stepped inside anyway.
My midnight-blue velvet gown whispered against the stone floor. The moonstone at my throat caught the dying light and threw it back in pale shards across the walls. I moved to the desk, trailing fingers over the maps—familiar ridges, the jagged line of the Frostfang Pass, the black X’s where raiding parties had been crushed in the last moon. Nothing new. Nothing that explained why he’d been gone before dawn for three days straight.
Three days.
He’d kissed my temple when he left, murmured “Stay inside the walls, little moon,” and vanished into the snow like smoke. No explanation. No timeline. Just that quiet command and the press of his mouth against my skin.
I hated how small it made me feel.
The door opened behind me.
I didn’t turn. I knew the soft tread, the faint scent of lavender soap and clean linen.
“Livia.”
“My Lady.” Her voice was careful, almost apologetic. She curtsied even though I couldn’t see it. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”
“I didn’t expect to be here either.”
I finally looked over my shoulder. Livia stood in the doorway, hands clasped at her waist, dark braid coiled neatly over one shoulder. Her eyes flicked once to the empty chair, then back to me—wary, loyal, worried.
“Where has he been going?” The question came out sharper than I meant.
Livia blinked. “My Lady?”
“Since I returned. Since the fever broke and I woke up and he was suddenly… absent. Where does the Alpha disappear to before first light every morning? And don’t tell me border patrols. I know what border patrols smell like on him when he comes back. This is different.”
She hesitated. Just long enough for my stomach to twist.
“I don’t know, my Lady,” she said quietly. “Truly. He doesn’t speak of it to the household. Only to Captain Rorik, and even then only in the war room with the door barred.” She swallowed. “I think… you should ask him yourself.”
I laughed once—short, bitter.
“Oh, great. No one wants to talk to me. Well, at least be bold enough to say it outright.” My voice rose despite myself, cracking against the stone walls. “Does he seek another wife? Is that it? Is the council finally winning? Has he decided a second consort would be… practical?”
Livia’s eyes widened, genuine shock flashing across her face.
“What?! My Lady??”
The disbelief in her voice almost—almost—eased the knot in my chest.
Almost.
“What else am I supposed to think?” I demanded, turning fully to face her. “Everyone keeps me in the dark. The ladies whisper about alliances and heirs. Isolde circles like a vulture. Cassian shows up with his red-haired ‘niece’ and her hellfire eyes, trying to plant her in my household. And my own mate—the man who poured his blood down my throat for three months to keep me breathing—won’t look me in the eye for longer than it takes to kiss my forehead and disappear again.”
Livia took one small step forward, hands still clasped so tightly her knuckles were white.
“My Lady… nothing is wrong. Your husband—the Alpha—would never do such a thing. He loves you.”
The words should have soothed.
They didn’t.
“Well, at this point it looks like he’s lying.”
I pressed the heel of my hand to my temple. Gods, my head hurt. A dull, throbbing ache that had been building since Celeste walked out of my solar yesterday.
“Gods. My head hurts. Get me green tea. Please.”
Livia nodded quickly, relief flooding her expression at having something concrete to do.
“At once, my Lady. I’ll bring it to your chambers—”
“No.” Softer this time. “Here. I’ll wait here. In his office. Maybe breathing him in will stop making me want to scream.”
She curtsied again and slipped out. The door closed with a gentle, final click.
I sank into Vuk’s chair.
It swallowed me—too big, too heavy with his absence. The leather still held faint warmth, or perhaps I imagined it. I drew my knees up beneath the velvet skirts, rested my forehead against the high backrest, and inhaled him—deep, slow, greedy. Smoke and storm and blood.
I closed my eyes.
Minutes later the door opened again.
“My Lady… the tea is here.” Livia’s voice, tentative. “And… the Alpha has returned.”
My pulse kicked.
I nodded, accepting the steaming cup without looking up.
“Tell him I’m waiting for him. Here.”
“Of course, my Lady.” She bowed and retreated.
I took a slow sip. The green tea was bitter, grounding. I let the heat seep into my palms, forced my breathing steady.
Then the door opened once more.
Vuk.
He filled the frame—black long jacket open over a plain black shirt, the top few buttons undone, exposing the hard line of his throat and the faint scars I knew by heart. Frost still dusted his dark hair; snow melted in slow drops from the shoulders of his coat. His golden eyes locked on me immediately, sharp and searching.
“Hey, little moon.”
“Hey.” My voice came out steadier than I felt. “You’re back.”
He nodded slowly, shrugging out of the jacket without breaking eye contact. The coat hit the rack with a soft thud. He crossed the room in long, deliberate strides, stopping just in front of the desk—close enough that his scent enveloped me, overwhelming the tea.
“Are you all right?” His voice dropped, rough with concern. “Something’s bothering you.”
I set the cup down carefully. Met his gaze.
“You’re not the only one who can keep secrets, Vuk. And I don’t mind.”
He tilted his head, brows drawing together. “Mind what?”
“You’ve found another wife.” The accusation hung between us, raw. “Is that why you vanish before dawn? Why sunrise is always more important than staying? Don’t lie and say it’s border patrols. I’m not a child—I know what you smell like when you come back from the wall. This is different.”
His expression hardened, but not with anger. Something closer to disbelief.
“I never called you a child. And why the hell would you think I want another consort?”
“What else would drag a man from his bed before his mate wakes?” My voice cracked on the last word. “What else keeps him away for days?”
“Business.”
I scoffed, sharp and humorless. “Business. Right. Must be booming. Hope you made billions in a single day.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. He leaned forward, palms flat on the desk, caging me without touching.
“That was sarcasm, little moon. Are you angry, my queen?”
“No. Why would I be?” The words tasted like ash. “I’m not the first Luna whose mate slips out at dawn while she sleeps. It’s practically tradition in the North.”
“So that’s a yes—you’re angry.”
“I mean…” I trailed off, throat tight. The anger cracked open, revealing the hurt beneath. “You won’t look at me. You won’t stay. You kiss my forehead like I’m still the fragile thing you nursed back from death, then disappear. What am I supposed to think when everyone whispers about heirs and alliances and practicality? When even your own household won’t tell me where you go?”
Vuk exhaled slowly, the sound rough. He rounded the desk in one fluid motion, dropped to one knee in front of me so our eyes were level. His hand lifted—hesitated—then cupped my cheek, thumb brushing the corner of my eye where tears I hadn’t noticed had gathered.
“You think I could want anyone else?” His voice was low, dangerous velvet. “After everything? After I poured my blood into you for months, tethered your soul to mine so you wouldn’t slip away? You think I’d look at another woman when the only one who owns me is right here, wearing my mark, sitting in my chair like she owns the fucking fortress?”
I swallowed hard. “Then tell me. What is it?”
He searched my face, golden eyes burning. For a heartbeat, something raw flickered there—fear, maybe. Or guilt.
Vuk’s forehead rested against mine, his breath warm and ragged in the scant space between us. His thumb still traced slow, grounding circles over my cheekbone, but the promise in his eyes flickered—hesitant, guarded.
“Not another woman,” he said finally, voice gravel and low. “Never. But it’s… complicated. Dangerous. I will tell you once I settle everything.”
My heart stuttered, then clenched hard.
“That’s not fair.” The words slipped out sharp, trembling at the edges. “You’re not treating me like your Luna. Like I howl with you. You’re making me feel like some fragile omega you have to shelter in the den while you hunt alone. Gods, Vuk—we’re supposed to work together. Not behind my back. Not like I’m too weak to stand beside you.”
His golden eyes darkened, pain flashing through them like lightning over snow. He opened his mouth, closed it again. Then, softer:
“I promise to tell you. I promise.”
The vow hung heavy between us—sincere, raw, but still wrapped in delay.
I exhaled through my nose, forcing the fight down. “Fine. I won’t press… for now.”
He searched my face another heartbeat, then nodded once—slow, relieved. His arms opened, broad and waiting, the same way he always did when the world had cut too deep and he wanted to fold me inside him until the bleeding stopped.
I didn’t move.
Instead I lifted my chin, met his gaze dead-on, and let the next words fall like thrown gauntlets.
“No. I’m not hugging you.” A beat. “I want to make babies. Now. I want us to make heirs.”
Vuk had just lifted my half-drunk cup of green tea to his lips—probably to buy himself a second to think. At the word babies, he choked. Tea sprayed in a fine, shocked mist across the desk. He coughed once, hard, golden eyes wide with something between panic and raw hunger.
“No—wait, I—uhm—we don’t… I mean, not—” He set the cup down too fast; it clattered against the wood. “Little moon, we can’t just—”
“What?” My voice cracked higher, incredulous. “You don’t want to? Oh my gods… I fucking hate you.”
The hurt slammed into me like a fist—all the days of absence, the whispers, the distance, the fear that maybe the council’s “practicality” had finally sunk its claws into him after all. Tears burned behind my eyes, hot and furious.
Vuk surged to his feet so fast the chair scraped back. In two strides he was in front of me again, hands framing my face—not gentle this time, but firm, thumbs pressing just under my jaw so I had to look at him.
“Stop.” The word was a growl, low and commanding, the alpha edge bleeding through. “Don’t you dare think that. Not for one fucking second.”
“Then say it.” My voice shook. “You’ve been gone. You won’t tell me why. You treat me like glass. And now you won’t even—” I swallowed hard. “You won’t even try to give me the one thing that would prove I’m still yours. Completely. Irrevocably.”
His thumbs stroked once, rough with restraint. His pupils had blown wide, the gold swallowed almost entirely by black. I could feel the tremor in his hands—the battle he was waging not to simply pin me to the desk and take what we both wanted.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he rasped. “Gods, Maureen. I want it so badly it’s killing me. Every time I look at you I imagine you round with my child, marked so deep no one would ever dare question who you belong to. But right now—” His jaw flexed. “Right now there are things moving in the dark. Things that would use a pregnancy—a pup—as leverage. As a target. I won’t risk you like that. Not until I’ve torn the threat out by the roots.”
I stared at him, breath shallow.
“So that’s it? You decide when it’s safe? When I’m allowed to be more than the fragile thing you saved?”
“No.” He leaned closer, nose brushing mine, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “I decide when I’ve made the world safe enough for our child to come into it. Because the second you carry my heir, little moon, every enemy I have left will smell blood. And I will not let them touch you—or what’s ours—until I’ve bathed in theirs first.”
“Then hurry,” I whispered back, fierce. “And if you make me wait much longer, Vuk Kael Lasković, I swear I’ll find a way to make heirs without your damn permission.”
“What!!?”