184- The Moon’s Feast and the Prisoner’s Heat
POV Aldren Valmorin:
“Do the elders know?” he continued.
“No. May the gods spare me from that.”
“They could help. Aldren, admit that you’re lost—it’s not a great sin.”
“No. Elowen is my problem. I’ll deal with it. And without any interference.”
“So possessive…” I understood what he was implying.
“Edric,” I said his name in reprimand.
“I didn’t say anything,” he retorted, raising his hands to shoulder height.
“Since I started dealing with the prisoner, the nightmares have disappeared.”
My sleepless nights—after waking with the omen that everything would end in fire—had ceased. It only took me longer to fall asleep, trying to piece together the puzzle of who that female was. Some of the answers had found me.
“Isn’t that a good thing?”
“It isn’t. Something tells me I’m recalling something that happened to me. I feel that someone betrayed me, besides the unnamable one. All that’s left is to remember who.”
My dear guest shook his head in disagreement.
“No one has ever remembered anything. Why do you still insist on this? We have less than two centuries left to live—why waste them on paranoia?”
“You don’t believe it, do you?” At least the other alphas did.
“I believe you, always—but not your paranoia.” I wrinkled my nose, displeased with his lack of interest in our past. “Call me if you discover anything. Can I trust that you’ll keep me informed?” he asked, getting up to leave.
I agreed to let him know if there were any new discoveries about Elowen, but the truth was that I no longer intended to share any information until I was certain of my own conclusions about her.
Instead of finding answers, I became an even greater tangle of confusion. That frail pup could no longer be allowed to turn my life into torment.
At dusk of every waxing moon, I prepared myself for the Valmorin gathering. The entire village gathered near the forest, around my estate, to celebrate the achievements of that period and strengthen our unity.
The grătar was prepared outdoors, with the finest cuts of meat grilled over charcoal. All the younger pups gathered among the adult wolves, and for that reason alcoholic drinks were not allowed until ten o’clock, when they returned to their homes.
We needed to keep our eyes wide open for our most precious assets—our pups—because the one time we failed had cost us dearly.
I dressed in a black button-up shirt I had received from my artisan and had kept stored for a long time. Knowing her, she would be immensely proud to see me wearing her work. Dark jeans and a black-dyed leather belt with silver details completed the look.
I sat in my armchair near the window with the curtains drawn, holding my dark boots and a pair of socks. Crossing one leg to put on the first boot, I heard three knocks at the door.
“Who disturbs me?”
“It’s me.” It was Kehin, whom I had been avoiding for a couple of days.
“Come in.” It could be something important.
He entered with a caution uncharacteristic of him, and his clothes were a notch above his usual—almost as if he had something to prove… or someone to impress.
“Can we talk?”
“About what?”
“The incident in the basement.”
“Incident.”
“Not now. You know very well that I’ve arrived punctually at the gatherings for over a hundred years.”
“There are still forty minutes before it starts.”
“I intend to spend them differently. We’ll talk later.”
I tried to ignore him, returning my attention to my boots.
“Impossible. Your admirers will monopolize you the entire night.” I sensed a hint of disdain in his voice and lifted my chin toward him.
“What is this? Envy? Jealousy?” I asked, frowning.
“Never.” His pupils dilated. “I would never feel that. I’m like them, and I know they deserve every drop of affection they receive.”
“They are my people, and today is the day they can freely celebrate with their alpha. Don’t test my patience.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry. We’ll have the whole week.”
“Now go. Your grandmother is too weak to walk around without your help,” I dismissed him, returning to the task of putting on my boots.
“All right. I’ll see you there.”
Even as I tried to focus on what truly mattered—my celebration and my people—my thoughts wandered, restless and delinquent, toward the prisoner in the basement.
Since the incident with the clothes, and my beast trying to take control driven by her heat, I had not visited her in the cage. Nor had I formulated all the new questions I needed to interrogate her.
Should I go down there before heading into the arms and greetings of my people?
I shouldn’t.
But I put on my boots and went anyway.
Descending the stairs of the floor and then the basement, a strange kind of anxiety struck me. I ignored the agony, trusting the mastery of self-control I had always possessed.
When I arrived, I was surprised to find her wearing only undergarments, exposing the curves of her thin body. A tension stirred my instincts, and the air grew heavy. I had to fight against the wave of heat that threatened to undermine my self-control.
“Get dressed. Now.”
She looked at her own body and then back at me.
“I know you don’t like what you’re seeing, alpha, but I’ll owe you putting those clothes on—I’m almost dying from the heat.”
It wasn’t exactly true, her assumption that I didn’t like what I was seeing, but it was best that she continued to think so.
Each breath carried the scent of her heat, a direct blow to my rationality. Losing control would provoke an unbridled fury.
That kind of weakness—I could not allow it.
“Spare me from having to deal with you and reveal your plans already. Who sent you to my lands, spy?”
“You don’t believe me, do you? But think with me. What could someone powerful possibly want with a poor waitress and a bag of bones?” In bitterness, she made a point of comparing herself to what I had said.
Obviously, Elowen was thinner than she should have been, but the contours of her ribs and hips—drawn by scarcity—still upheld her indomitable essence; a sensuality that refused to yield to that fragility.
Her face, though shadowed by exhaustion, and her lips longing for moisture, still carried the artistry of features nature had sculpted with care and grace. A provocative beauty.
The surroundings, saturated with the damp smell of abandonment, and the small beads of sweat tracing salty paths over her skin, could not even dull her scent.
In her blue eyes, sadness mingled with resentment; and yet, every glance carried a glimmer of moonlight and stubborn stars that refused to go out in the darkness I had placed her in.
She didn’t seem to know it—and if it depended on me, she never would.
“What were you looking for? Or were you looking for someone?” I asked deliberately.