☽☽☽MIKAEL'S POV☾☾☾ She is hurt. Her eyes, which usually sparkle, are glum, dimmed with a dismal sadness. I have nothing to say to her to soften this blow the Crestengalt has delivered. Granted that it is my fault she had to learn of this in the first place, I yet have a ripping urge to tear into the fool who sent this issue spiralling into the ditch. Like the men who let Absalon traipse into the ball, Wade is as useless and thick as a dolt. His presence has meant more inconveniences and nuisances. I have an excellent mind to pelt down these steps after him to teach a lesson he'll not forget shortly. I might also discharge some of the anger bottled up at my failure to impound the sorcerer and his infuriating wife. Alas, I can't. "I'm waiting for a freaking answer, Mikael." "Asthore, you must listen; I did not—" She snickers in mock. "If you think I'm going to stand here and listen to lies from your lips, Mikael, you're sadly mistaken. Either you tell me the truth, or you don't s
☽☽☽MIKAEL'S POV☾☾☾ A glass shard buries itself in my chest at her words. "What mistakes did you make?" The question is garbled out in a strangled manner I fail to contain. "Many. I don't want to think about most of them, but let's talk about the fact that I did drugs that night. I was on a high I'd never experienced before. I was bolder than I'd ever been. Braver than I could have ever imagined. Of course, that only meant I was stupider than ever, willing to take unnecessary risks. I didn't think twice when I was cajoled into stripping and dancing on a pole while cheers were tossed over my head like flowers." She grimaces at the memory rushing to the surface. "It was that awful?" I quip, a helpful audience despite knowing exactly how it was as one of the witnesses that'd been present to enjoy her performance. It had lit a fire in my veins; each writhe of her body had water-boarded the boats of my marbles, turning everything sane and remotely standard upside down and into chaos.
☽☽☽MIKAEL'S POV☾☾☾ She sighs deeply before offering a response. "Because I wanted to help my pack. It's a simple reason, but it's not so mundane when you realise I was willing to sacrifice everything for those I loved. You could have been one of those old-fashioned Alphas, still grounded in ancient ideas of how women are to answer to them. Yet..." her breath shudders, and I suppress the urge to comfort her. "By choosing to marry you, I gave up my freedom, sovereignty, and desires to put my pack's welfare first. But it didn't matter because, in my view, I was doing the right thing. I could not hate anybody for it because I believed it was my choice. Mine alone." "Saskia..." I summon her into my arms as distress begins to round her shoulders and cause her stunning eyes to tear up. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, love." My kisses melt into her hair, and she holds onto me with a steel grip. I kiss her forehead, then both her cheeks. She stirs when my lips imprint on the creamy length of her t
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ I still feel like a fool. The brunt of the story remains that I was used by my father. I also have to ponder if this isn't the same instance when it comes to Mikael. How do I know he's not manipulating me? Especially since he was the one who asked for the princess of Westardum to marry him. My only question to debase that presumption would be, what for? What would the Alpha of Guttenbrieg stand to gain by making me his wife? Could I be a pawn in a game played by too many people? Truth is, my assumption is not implausible. It's simply highly improbable. I don't see many cases in which I've been notably valuable to the pack in a manner that might make me indispensable. Combing my fingers through the fluffy fur of Mikael's wolf, I keep from indulging in the spiralling black hole of thoughts pulling me in. I want to trust him, but I'm not stupid. His meeting me once—which I don't even remember—and deciding he wanted me as his wife is not logical. What could I ha
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ A wide snout nudges my hand. "Hey," I murmur softly, scratching behind the wolf's stiff ears. He's beautiful in the dark, all sleek black fur that shines like silk and hugs the arms of shadows without shame. "You're a gorgeous, gorgeous wolf." I kiss the flat of his forehead, my troubles forgotten, and he enthusiastically bumps my jaw with his nose. That makes me smile, and my hands automatically enclose upon him. When I pull away, Rikal—as Mikael mentioned was his wolf's name—whines sadly. I frown at finding gloom splayed in those cold blues, which are still unmistakably the Alpha's. "Are you sad?" I ask, and a low hum of approval answers me. "That makes you and me, hun." I hug him again, tighter this time. While I enjoy his gentle, quiet company, I can't explain why I wish for more. I want someone I can talk to and who can return the sentiment, which is quite selfish of me. Thankfully, no one can read my mind because I immediately feel remorse for wishing M
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ "Yes." He does not waste a second. Not in thinking or hesitation. "Oh." My cheeks heat up as shame tortures me. Mikael peels his body from mine as he sits up against the headboard. I do the same because I sense he might have an explication or extra remark to give. "You made an interesting mentioning the other day, Luna." Luna? I stiffen at the formal tone he's adopted. Goosebumps prickle along my skin, straightening their tiny hairs. "What day?" He keeps his focus on his palms, avoiding my gaze. It's ridiculous, but I can't help the stabbing pain in my chest. It hurts when he's like this. And I hate that I've let myself become one to be affected by his actions. "Do you remember what you said when Maya arrived at the pack?" The day flashes in my head, raw and fresh. "I believe I said plenty." "Nay. That is not what I mean. In respect to what you said of your powers." His head swivels my way at this instant. My stomach clenches at the iciness that drags thr
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ He did make me leave. Not by force, though, which is bizarre to admit aloud since Mikael loves to bulldoze his way through a problem. I’m glad he allowed the chance for negotiations because while he has achieved what he wished for, I’ve also gotten what I wanted. The negotiations resulted in the following: I would have the freedom to leave the pack whenever I wanted. The Alpha similarly agreed that I would be authorised to work as a small interior designer right in Guttenbrieg and set up evening baking classes to earn my own money. Lastly, I’d be involved in all matters of the pack—diplomatic affairs as well. In return, I’d get in the damned car with Wade when asked to and not think of running away or returning to help fight against Absalon. A pretty fair deal, if I say so myself. So, here we are. Not in the car, by the way. We’re cutting across the villa to reach where Mikael claimed we’d find the driver and the vehicle. Wade is to take it from the wolf and
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ Wade probes the tender flesh with his fingers, obviously not convinced by my complaints that he’s only wasting time and that I’m perfectly fine. He takes his examination further by placing my foot flat on his palm. I don’t hold back the snort that springs up at the sight. My foot is disturbingly miniature in his hand, which is pretty hilarious. To magnify my amusement, I kick him hard in the chest. This levels him to the ground, but I’d forgotten on whom my weight was also balanced. I lose the oxygen in my lungs for a split second. I go down, but Wade’s arms cage me in, and though I trip, I eventually tumble on him. Not the softest landing, but all limbs are intact. I howl like a laughing jackal because that was comic as hell. Wade hisses, and I know he did not find my act one to bring merriness or cheer. I pinch him for the sake of it, seeing the grave cast he still has on. “Oh, lighten up, Wade.” The irony of the moment is not lost on me because usually, he
Hello, lovelies!Thank you for reading to the end of The Luna’s Possessive Alpha. This is Book 1 of the TLPA Series. Book 2 is titled The Luna’s Broken Alpha, and will be made available on Goodnovel in the next few days. I sincerely appreciate all your support for Book 1, and I hope to see you all in Book 2!*Please read the blurb for The Luna’s Broken Alpha below:“To establish a balance in the supernatural realm, the two most powerful packs in North America formed a political alliance. This was achieved through the union of Princess Saskia and Alpha Mikael. However, the infection among the werewolf packs has only grown stronger since the ascension of the new Alpha. The supernatural world is currently on the brink of falling apart. War is closer than ever as corrupted werewolves escape the grasps of their vampire lords; chaos is bound to ensue.*Saskia accepted her fate in her new pack and was willing to do all that was needed of her as Luna until she had her title stripped away by
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ "You know that's not how things work, Saskia." Wade's reply snags my focus, and I change my train of thought. "Once I pledge my loyalty to an Alpha, I become bound to him as one of his pack. The fact that I did already means that I was accepted. The only creature allowed to admit me into Guttenbrieg is its Alpha." I squeeze my eyes shut as a tremble shakes me to my core. It's difficult to process what Wade's made plain. I don't want to try because it's fatuous to do so. It would be pure idiocy to believe that Mikael's dead. It honestly can't be. I would know. As the woman who married him, who's mated with him, and most of all, as one who has come to love him artlessly, I would have known. I, of all people, should have felt him slipping away from this world. The planet should have felt off-center, tilted off-axis when he took his last breath. How could I not have known? What was I doing when—according to their hypotheses—he died? How could I have carried on w
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ Kaleb Sacramone makes no sense. No sense at all. Mikael's not dead. The man I talked to mere hours ago was everything but dead. Guttenbrieg's Lieutenant General often sucked at making coherent sense, but this is simply ridiculous. How dare he fake Mikael's death only to get under my skin? I might have slapped him if I didn't think he was insane. The werewolf needs a psychiatric intervention coupled with enough mental evaluations. His days in the dungeon must have turned him unhinged, a deranged creature. I make a mental reminder to request an appointment for him immediately after this is over. "Who is dead?" I parrot, pausing for him to assert that this is all a joke and rescind those hideous words. "Mikael isn't dead." Kaleb laughs in my face. Outright does so. I contemplate pulling out my daggers and holding them to his neck, drawing blood for his insolence. I fist my hands to keep from heeding any rash decisions. "Do you have hearing problems, Saskia? I b
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ You're such a fool, Saskia. The berating arrives only after the fibres of my undies have suffered the deluge of an Olympic-sized pool. It's embarrassing. My body still throbs for Mikael even after learning about his misdeeds. Even directly beside the man who's made himself vulnerable by disclosing a secret he's kept for years to me about his emotions, I'm thirsting for and craving the attention of a man who's bent on using me without a care for how much I'll hurt as a result of his evil deceitfulness. It's so ludicrous. I missed him before I knew what he'd done. And now that I know the crimes he's committed, I miss him maybe even more. Frankly, I just want him to come home so we can have an earnest discussion. I want to hear the truth from the horse's mouth. If I could help it, I'd pick up my phone and call him to hurry up and head back to the pack. I won't, of course. First, I have no inkling of my phone's whereabouts. Second, I wouldn't dream of hindering
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ "Ignore what I said." "Okay." I can't. I swallow hard, glueing my sight to the road. Wade loves me? Perhaps he means as a friend. But we were talking about Mikael as a baseline. The Alpha wouldn't love me as a friend as I'm his wife. Moreover, that wouldn't be a kind of love worth being broached in chatter by another wolf. Things genuinely just got incredibly weirder. And awkwarder. My head feels like there's been a crater blasted into it. The indented hollowness is the equivalent of a cavity, and I find myself scrambling to fill my head with reflections other than that which refuses to dissipate: Wade loves me. I love him too, I realise. I love him as one who's been by my side for ages, one whom I've relied on in the thickest of battles, one who's never shied away from being a firm shoulder I could cry on. I love him for being an incredible person, but I have never dwelt on what kind of love it is. It's always been common sense that we care for each other l
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ Wade's hand is fisted by his side when I return to scrutinising him. "I w-wish I realised...earlier that this was how... you'd been feeling. I was too occupied...and engaged by my self-imposed job of being...the happy-go-lucky guy. I never noticed...that you were burdened...by how we all treated you. I'm sorry, Saskia." He lingers between his words, trying to catch his breath and possibly summon the strength to speak. My heart clenches in my chest. I wish I could take away his pain and make it nonexistent. He doesn't deserve what Absalon did to him. I guess the thought that's been keeping me restless is the odds that his injuries aren't from Absalon's antics, as he claims, but from the destruction I caused with my powers. I can't yet envision forgiving myself for what I've done so far; if I was the one who truly hurt Wade, I know I'd truly never be able to grant myself forgiveness. It wouldn't matter how many years might pass; I'd continue to hate myself for
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ Wade is a damned liar. I should have known better than to trust him to tell me the truth about how he felt. Even more annoying is that he clearly fooled me with his charms. While I often harped on the fact that werewolves could make themselves more attractive to others through their supernatural magnetism, I'd forgotten the fact that, in specific, they could conceal defects about themselves. In my state of despair, I'd become easily subject to his prowess. He'd gotten the chance to disguise the true extent of his injuries. If I say I'm not entirely beyond pissed off, then I'd be telling a lie—something those I cherish as friends and family seem adept at doing when I'm involved. "You don't need to do this." Wade coughs, a shadow of himself, having drained up to half the quota of blood in his body. I eye him in irritation. Is there any time he doesn't annoy me like it's a hobby of his? "I'll do what I want, Wade. Kindly shut the fuck up while I do." I want to
☽☽☽MIKAEL'S POV☾☾☾ "What the...fucking...hell was that?" I scramble to rise, but my efforts are thwarted by a force field smashing my length to the ground. It all clicks in at once: magic. The weight on my spine, crushing my neck and torso to the ground, is of a mammoth's mass in thousands of tonnes. I snarl as the invisible load intensifies at my joints, breaking my bones. Whatever witch is responsible must be incredibly skillful. It's a hellish experience that might have had a more inexperienced version of myself centuries ago whimpering in pain. I've long learnt to endure worse. Warning bells wail in my head. It's evident Cillian and Whelan planned this from the genesis of our interaction. I'd been too blinded by my fury to see through their plan. Cillian hammers on this point with his utterance, "you were an idiot not to suspect the cause of our visit, Mikael." My hateful gaze pans upward, but it does not land on Cillian. Instead, Absalon's distasteful countenance is caught
☽☽☽MIKAEL'S POV☾☾☾ A scowl overtakes my cast as I set eyes on the fair-headed man bent over a walking stick, not from age but for a ruse. "Missed the train home, Whelan?" The bitterness yet stored within seeps into my tone. "Whelan?" The old, heavy voice rumbles like a clap of thunder rolling down the beak of a mountain. Long ago, in a distant land bound by time, I'd been a lad afraid of its owner. "I imagined I was once Seanathair to you, Mikael. Ain't it so, Cillian?" Cillian pulls further out from the woods—left untouched and spared from Saskia's dismantling—at the query. I do not give the coward a chance to voice his opinion. "You mean nothing to me. I don't remember a grandfather. Nay, I recall a sadistic fiend who gloated in sacrificing others for his evil causes—his family included." As patronising as the word might ever entail, Whelan corrects, "Family means naught without loyalty. I attack not those under my wings. You must've understood that by now, Alpha of Guttenbrie