Chapter 41 Zhayad's Return
Aurelia
It had been over a week since Zhayad knotted inside me, but there was nothing to show for it yet.
I wasn't feeling any heat, there was no swell, no sign of life. Just silence where hope should have been growing.
The whole pack knew. Of course they did. The moment the Alpha claimed me that thoroughly, the whispers turned into open taunts.
Every corridor I walked, every glance I caught, carried the same venom:
‘Warlock whore.’
‘Barren witch.’
‘Even the Goddess won’t let her breed with him.’
They said it behind their hands, accompanied by laughter that echoed too loudly, in stares that lingered too long on my still-flat stomach.
Also, it had been over a week since Irina’s “disappearance.” Why the Onyx Fang decided that my womb was a better topic to gossip about instead of Irina's disappearance, I had no idea.
Zhayad had left at dawn the next morning with his shifter-warriors, and they hadn’t returned.
I couldn’t tell if they’d gone to battle or to rescue her. He hadn’t told me. He hadn’t even said goodbye, he'd just kissed me hard enough to bruise and walked out into the dark.
I sat alone in the study now, pretending to read old border treaties, when a shadow fell across the desk.
“You.”
I didn’t need to look up to know it was Ravina.
She stepped closer, her gown whispering like a threat, and leaned one hip against the edge of the table, arms crossed, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“You may think you’re smart,” she began, reaching forward to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear, so it would seem she was just checking in, “parading around with that glowing mark like it makes you untouchable.
Parading around like the pack doesn’t see right through you.”
I kept my gaze on the page for a while, then lifted my eyes to hers.
She looked thinner, and her eyes were red-rimmed. The perfect mask of a grieving mother cracked just enough to show the fury underneath. Ugh. She could have been an actress if she wanted.
“But let’s be clear,” she continued, leaning in until her perfume choked the air between us. I tried not to cough.
“Everyone knows why Zhayad hasn’t come back yet. He’s stalling. He’s ashamed. A week of knotting you and still nothing growing inside that barren womb. The pack’s laughing behind your back, and soon they’ll laugh in your face.”
I closed the book slowly. The sound of the cover meeting leather was louder than her words.
“You think I care about their laughter?” I asked, meeting her gaze head-on.
“You should, because a woman with no offspring in our pack is like a dry log of wood. I'm sure—”
The doors flew open with a bang that rattled the windows. We both whipped around so fast that we nearly knocked out foreheads together.
Zhayad didn’t just walk in, he barrelled through like the room had personally offended him.
His jaw was locked so tight I could see the muscle jumping under his skin, his teeth clenched hard enough to keep his fangs from dropping.
His chest rose and fell in short, furious bursts.
His dark hair was wild, dishevelled and falling over his face.
His shirt was torn at one shoulder, blood streaking across his collarbone, but not all of it was his. I tried to tell myself that, it wasn't like I was sure.
His eyes, those beautiful, dangerous green eyes, they were molten right now, and his pupils were blown so wide they looked black.
Power rolled off him in waves, thick and suffocating, making the air taste like lightning and rage.
He looked terrifying. And fuck, he looked hot doing it. The second our gazes locked, I changed my mind about getting turned on by whatever was happening.
Something was wrong, really wrong. This wasn’t anger. This was agony. Raw, barely-leashed pain bleeding through the bond, so thick I couldn’t breathe around it.
Behind him, his shifter-warriors limped in slowly, they were battered and crimson-stained. The last pair dragged Irina between them. She wasn’t unconscious, but she wasn’t exactly walking either.
Her arms and legs were scratched to hell, long red lines crisscrossing pale skin.
A single deep gash ran from her eyebrow down the bridge of her nose. It was fresh and still weeping.
Her perfect face was ruined, and she looked like she’d been crying for hours. Ravina sucked in a sharp breath, shock flashing across her features.
For one split second she looked genuinely horrified her daughter had come back hurt.
Interesting. She hadn't expected Irina to come back hurt, because Irina hadn't really disappeared.
I was confused at this point, but my gut told me Irina was working with Mace.
I closed the treaty book with a soft snap and stood.
“It seems the Alpha needs me,” I said to Ravina, whose eyes were glued to the doorway.
She didn’t answer, because she was confused and scared of whatever was about to happen.
Zhayad’s eyes tracked me the whole way. They weren’t the eyes I knew. Not the heated, possessive green that usually melted me.
These were feral, wild. Like the wolf was riding him hard and the man was barely holding the leash.
His warriors gave him a wide berth, instinctively stepping aside, their heads lowered, bodies tense like they expected him to lunge at any second.
I reached out through the bond, softly and carefully whispering his name inside my mind.
‘Zhayad?’
I got nothing, just a thick, churning fog of rage, pain, protectiveness, and something darker I couldn’t untangle.
It swallowed my voice whole.
I stopped a few feet away.
“What’s happening?” I asked quietly.
No answer, still, just that predatory stance, his legs braced, fists clenched, every muscle coiled like he was seconds from exploding.
Even Ravina’s hand trembled where it gripped the back of a chair.
She looked as lost as I felt.
“Zhayad?” I tried again, softer.
“Don’t call his name,” Lance said from the far side of the room.
He must have slipped in through the back entrance, because obviously, no one could get past Zhayad, not with the way he was looking right now.
Lance's voice wasn't mocking this time, he sounded almost afraid.
“Why?” I demanded, turning toward him.
“What happened? Why is my daughter injured?” Ravina’s voice cracked, questions spilling out in a frantic rush. “Why is she bleeding? What did they do to her?”
“Quiet!” Lance hissed, his eyes flicking nervously to Zhayad.
Ravina snapped her mouth shut, finally sensing the danger in the room.
Zhayad moved, only one step.
I took one step closer, drawn by the bond like a rope around my heart.
“Luna—”
Lance hissed my title like a warning shot.
I ignored him. When I reached Zhayad, he opened his jaws wide.
His whole body rippled, muscles tearing, bones cracking, white fur exploding across skin in a brutal, beautiful shift. I'd never really seen him shift fully before.
He didn’t recognize me. His eyes blazed with the same hate he reserved for enemies who’d crossed him one too many times.
Then without warning, he lunged. Massive white paws slammed into my shoulders.
I hit the floor hard, my breath punched out of me, his weight crashing down on top of me.