92- The Weight of the Past
POV Lunara Grimwald:
“Have you ever been to a Samhain before?” he asked after a quiet moment.
“No.”
“And what did you think?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek, considering.
“You want the truth? I love all the Eldoria celebrations. I love how warm, happy, and fulfilled everyone is. How much they respect one another. I love how they always sing about the pack with pride.”
He pulled back to look at me.
“In Twilight and Eclipse, the parties weren’t like this. They were for entertainment—for fun—and mostly to amuse the males. I only went because Alessio invited me. My father never let me go alone; he always forbade it. It was... nice, but nothing like this.”
“I like to keep the old traditions, to preserve the past. And I know my people approve—they always get so excited whenever one of the festivities draws near.”
I laughed.
“After seeing Lyris, Celindra, and Nicoleta spend the entire day carving little wolf figurines, I have no doubt they do.”
“It’s a good custom,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “And you’ll always be free to attend every celebration. You’re not in Twilight anymore. Here, no member is forbidden from anything that involves the pack.”
“Except going to another territory?”
He nodded.
“Except that.” He licked his lips. “Wandering beyond the borders is beyond my limits as a leader. It’s a law handed down by the elders, and every order that comes from them is supreme—it must be followed to the letter. That’s how we keep harmony among the Tharnak.”
“It seems to work,” I commented.
“Yes. No alpha interferes in another’s affairs, so there are no disputes. We follow the commands of the elders, and in that way, we maintain peace.”
I bit my lower lip, debating whether to bring up something I’d long been curious about, even though I knew it might be dangerous territory. Edric might not take it well—might retreat into the cold, bitter version of himself I’d once known. But if I didn’t ask, if I never learned the truth, it would eat away at me slowly.
“I need to ask you something,” I admitted, “but you might not like the question.”
His eyes locked onto mine, studying every fleeting reaction on my face.
“I’m listening.”
I shivered, nervous. My stomach turned, and my palms began to tremble as a layer of sweat mixed with the drops of water on my skin.
“I... um... I want to know why you never mated with Catalina,” I whispered, forcing the words out.
Something shifted in his gaze, just as I’d feared. His pupils dilated, and the silver around them flared brighter. A vein pulsed at the side of his neck, and his jaw tightened.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll understand,” I added quickly, feeling a stir inside me. “It’s okay.”
His breathing grew heavier, the condensation thick in the cold air.
“I didn’t mate with Catalina because I didn’t want to make her enemies mine,” he said after a pause.
I gasped, surprised—he wasn’t the kind of man to offer an explanation.
He continued, “In my view, it would have put her in unnecessary danger. The mating bond isn’t mandatory for a couple. Here in Eldoria, most choose to do it, but it’s entirely optional.”
I traced a fingernail across the bare skin of his shoulders, lightly following the muscles.
“You thought her life might be at risk?”
He nodded.
“Just as yours has been since the moment you arrived.”
“But my risks are my own fault,” I countered. “Alessio was already hunting me long before I found you.”
“In the past, things were different, Lunara. I told you there were hunters nearby—ones we eventually killed. But there were also timber traffickers who entered the forest to exploit its resources. We killed them too, one by one. Back then, with the freedom to come and go, the risks of invasion were higher. They knew certain things about us, and the mating ritual isn’t a secret to anyone. If I had mated with Catalina, I would’ve tied my life to hers, and it would’ve been easier for them to reach her in order to get to me.” He swallowed hard. “It would have made her a prisoner. With her life bound to mine, she couldn’t have been free to roam the Tharnak.”
I gazed up at the dark, starless sky, reflecting on what he’d said.
“Do you feel guilty for her death?”
“For a long time, I refused the mating bond. We fought about it often. Catalina wanted it more than anything, even if it meant losing her freedom. Her parents, her friends, her relatives—all of them pressured me to do it. I rejected them all, every word they said.”
He released me gently and stepped away, running his wet hands through his hair, slicking it back.
“After endless insistence and arguments—after she lost her parents and had no one left—I decided I’d bond with her after the wedding. Catalina was thrilled, even knowing what it would mean. It was like a wedding gift. Everything was set, everything ready. Then she was killed.
“And yes,” he said, his voice breaking, “I blamed myself then, and I still do. If I’d given in—if I’d accepted the bond—I would’ve felt her in danger, reached her in time, saved her. I failed as a mate and as an alpha. I let another male invade my territory and kill my female while I did nothing.”
I shook my head.
“You would’ve been dead too. Your pack would’ve been left without a leader.”
“I would’ve felt it!” he snapped, turning to face me. “I would’ve known she was in danger. I could have stopped it.”
My eyes drifted down to the water, where my reflection rippled. He turned his back to me, hands resting on his hips, his face lifted toward the moon.
“I’m sorry,” was all I could manage.
It wasn’t his fault—never would be—but his grief ran too deep, a guilt so old and rooted that nothing I said could change it.
“That’s why I hated our mating,” he whispered after a long silence.
I looked at him, watching the rigid muscles of his back.
“I despised the fact that an unfamiliar she-wolf made me lose control—when I’d denied the ritual to the female who shared decades of my life, who helped me build the pack I lead, who stood by me through the most crucial years of my growth.”
He shifted, stirring the water around him, and turned to face me.
“I loathed how much I wanted you, even when you represented everything I thought I detested.”
He moved toward me in decisive steps, stopping right in front of me.
“And I hated you even more when I realized that no matter what I thought about it, the desire I feel for you will never fade.”
I gasped, lifting my face to meet his eyes.
He gripped the back of my neck and pulled me closer, rubbing the tip of his nose against my cheek. He inhaled deeply, drinking in my scent. I felt his hard length brush against my stomach again.
“Your scent,” he breathed, kissing my temple, “is one of the best things I’ve ever felt.”