☽☽☽MIKAEL'S POV☾☾☾ "Ah," I sigh, running a hand over my face. "The witchery... She's making me give a shit." It's an appalling thing. I'm turning soft, considering compassion from heeding her wishes. Say, a heartless were would not know how to treat a woman right, would they? Yet, that is what she desires of me. I cannot win her over otherwise. Ultimately, caring is a scary thought, for it hinders plans that should be set in motion. I cannot let that happen. There is no other plot to save the wolves in my fold. If this fails, all else does. And as it is, my family comes first. Jerald clears his throat loudly to invite my attention to the following query he asks. "For how long do you think to keep Kaleb bound, Alpha?" Without missing a beat, I reply: "as long as it would take my anger to dissipate and more for afterward to teach him a lesson." Jerald nods, understanding why I must go to such great lengths. No one challenges the Alpha, and though 'tis but for a short while, as lon
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ We set out—not so early—the day after the quarrel about my queries to Kaleb. Stuck in the same car as me, the Alpha made it a point to sulk and ignore me. To any question I asked or comment I made, he'd replied with a grunt or left them unanswered. For instance, the inquiry about Cadhla's identity and relationship to him did not receive as much as a brow raise of consideration. Our present location is at one of Mikael's houses. It is a Georgian-style building, which, to my delight, is larger than the cabin I've come to know as my home. I might say from time to time that I'm not materialistic, but I kind of am. Having lived in luxury all my life, I'd like a house cut out of pure diamonds and filled to the brim with gold, if possible, please. Note: this doesn't mean I'll be inconsiderate. It merely entails that I'll take the shinnies any day with no complaints. Maybe that's why I'm not really faulting Mikael for going off and being nothing short of an ass. He di
It hurts to act nonchalantly like I don't give a shit when, for him, I give too many. Because of him, I care too damn much. I simply pretend not to. "Why would I give you that satisfaction when you have no effect on me?" He nudges the slope of my neck with his nose, inhaling my essence. Goosebumps traverse the length of my arms as I fight this magnetic attraction to him. "Lie not. The fragrance of your arousal does not escape me, leannán." He purrs and my core trembles, pulsating without a moment's cease. I ignore the lump in my throat and staunchly keep from swallowing. I'd be dumb to let him see how he affects me. "Don't fool yourself, Mikael. Any man could have that effect on me. You aren't special." I say spitefully to knock him off the pegs he's stacked himself on. He doesn't deserve to hold sway over me when he's done nothing to satisfy me aside from spurring this lust swirling in me like the gales of a cyclone. "What man, Saskia?" He growls as his head inclines, eyes on my l
☽☽☽MIKAEL'S POV☾☾☾ Her kiss refuses to dissipate from my mind. I cannot forget it for a second, not even as Jerald delivers the news meant to be stunning. There's more to the words he's uttered. I surmise from the trembling in the chain coupling his cognition to mine. More than the terror that must have driven them home in haste. Yet, I can't get the taste of her lips out of my mind for long enough to adopt the urgency he's expelled. The Crestengalt searches the area frantically before changing his post to find what he looks for. His wretched breath slows, chest deflating at catching a glimpse of her. This induces the realisation that I'd instinctively placed her behind me to break on my cognisance like wicked waves upon a shore. Out of my periphery, I witness her small smile directed at him, its calming effect and intent not lost on even a layperson's recognition. He responds with a grin of his own. At that, her spell over me shatters. Why does she make it so apparent that she c
☽☽☽MIKAEL'S POV☾☾☾ "I am to look into the issue at hand. This classes as a top priority, more so than my initial plans. I must investigate the source of this foul message and the porter, eventually." She steps forward, her rapt attention not deviating from me for a moment. Her countenance crosses into deep contemplation before her question rings through the room. "Do you have any idea who it could be?" "I have many, a mhuirnín. Too many, in fact." It's unfortunate that this happens at a critical time. My agenda for things has taken a different turn, careening off the tracks I'd placed it on. "Okay..." she mutters, and I watch as a fold shutters close, a veil on her emotions. It is transparent in the plays of her eyes, the shadow that cloaks the usual gleam in those emerald jewels. I can tell what she thinks just from her subtle reactions. "It is not about the matter being one that cannot reach your ears, a stòr. If you like, I'll give you a list of suspects. Perhaps that might
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ "What did you say?" I ask, having heard his statement in an inaudible mumble. "It's nothing." He turns away, broad shoulders stony in my direction. I don't know what it is, but it certainly didn't feel like nothing. I also can't miss that he's transformed into a more frigid form of himself, which duly reminds me of the many similar experiences I've had with him. Though it's weird, his sudden cold shoulder is no surprise. I've been a witness to it before. Countlessly. Sometimes, while we talk, especially when it gets to deeper matters, he retreats into himself and gets this faraway look in his eyes. He snaps at me whenever I try to pull him out of it. Yet, I can't for the life of me figure out what triggers him into that state. All I know is that I hate it. Dearly. "Can you show me the house now?" I request, keeping an adequate distance from him. If he wants his space, then I'll give him that. It doesn't mean I'm for or in support of how he lets me know he nee
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ Maybe I should yell, but I've never been the type to shout in distress. To leak salty streams from my eyes? Maybe. Call for help? Never. The only occasions on which I scream involve my anger. So when Mikael gains on me far faster than I'd predicted, I spin around, fists cocked to fight. "It's me, a stór. It is me." He cuts me short by his declaration, and I stop mid-swing, gaping at the clear irises that reflect my image. A quick scan at my hand reveals my fingers sparking with a pure white aura that hurts to stare at. On a larger scale, it would be blinding. I tighten my fists to hide the phenomenon. It's not the first time this's happened. If I ignore it long enough, it'll go away. "Mikael. Thank goodness you're back." I amble towards him, but I only end up slumping forward, my limbs debilitated as the adrenaline passes through. Except I know it's not only that. It's way more than just adrenaline-induced relapse causing my fatigue. "Are you alright?" Stron
☾☾☾ SASKIA'S POV ☽☽☽ In his absence, I feel up to judging my surroundings. I’m in a poster bed with cobalt blue sheets, three matching pillows and a white comforter. I don’t like too many pillows taking up space, so this number is perfect. All three also fit snugly against my back as I haul myself up to sit. My sight pans from one corner of the half-empty room to another. There’s a standard shelf and a small dresser, but that’s all. Woah. One thing that’s sure is Mikael sucks at making rooms more than just rectangular enclosures. I’ve transformed my room at the pack into a place that, at first glance, looks to be the habitat of a living being. However, I’ve seen Mikael’s room. It’s so empty of decor and homeliness that it hurts to recall it. If we’re to constantly board at this house, we’ll need a new interior design, or I’ll be sleeping outside. Just an over-exaggeration, by the way. Frankly, I’d expected the rest of the Georgian house to be as magnificent as its front, but obvi
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