The Luna’s son

Denera

For the first time, we had fallen asleep on bad terms. Rockan and I hadn’t spoken a word since our disagreement last night. I was more surprised that he hadn’t tried to assert his alpha authority over me, demanding silence or obedience.

It was something I expected, yet he had chosen a different path, one that left me feeling unsettled.

The morning crept in slowly, the sun taking its time to rise. I shifted on the bed, turning to face my mate, but his back was turned to me, a solid wall of muscle and warmth that I longed to reach out to. My heart ached with the words I hadn’t yet spoken—I love you. It hung in the air between us, unvoiced and heavy.

I couldn’t help but admire his bare back, the way the morning light played off his skin. A stray strand of rope was tied behind his head—his mask, a constant reminder of the barriers he kept in place.

Rockan never took it off. It was as if he was afraid to reveal himself completely, afraid of what vulnerability might bring.

With a