His Abandoned Luna Chapter 182

|| Lilac’s POV ||

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of Alaric’s bedroom, painting golden stripes across the rumpled sheets where he should have been. My fingers traced the cold, empty space beside me— another night he’d come home after I’d fallen asleep, another dawn he’d slipped away before I woke.

Always gone. Always exhausted. Always running after the rogues and witches!

I sat up, pressing a hand to the subtle swell of my stomach. The baby— our baby— was still small enough to hide beneath loose blouses, but soon, that wouldn’t be possible. Soon, the whole world would know.

If only I could tell him first. What happened to us? Why did feel like he was drifting away? Did I push him to all these responsibilities?

A knock at the door startled me.

“Luna?” Mira’s voice, gentle but firm. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” I called, hastily tugging the blankets higher.

“Did you tell him last night?” She asked as soon as she entered. I couldn’t hide it from her or from most of the she-wolves in the pack but they were loyal and kind enough to keep it to themselves. I had all the help here I needed. They showed up with fruits or specific herbs that would help the growth of our pup.

I shook my head silently saying no.

“I see. He did come home late. By the way, Endora is here.” She sighed.

The door creaked open, revealing the pack’s ancient healer, her silver-streaked hair braided tightly down her back. She carried a tray of steaming tea, toast, and a small vial of murky liquid.

She came to check on me often. To make sure I was ok, the baby was ok.

“Hello, Lilac. You skipped breakfast two days in a row,” she chided, setting the tray on the bedside table. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed you avoiding the tonic I made for the morning sickness.”

I glanced at Mira. She must have told her.

I grimaced. “It tastes like rotten herbs.”

“And yet,” she said dryly, “it works.” She eyed me, her gaze dropping pointedly to my stomach. “You can’t hide it forever, you know.”

“I know,” I whispered. “But with the election, the rogues, witches, Elias— Alaric has enough to deal with. I barely see him these days.”

Endora sighed, sitting beside me. “He’s your mate, Lilac. He would want to know.”

Would he?

The bond between us was still frayed, tangled with secrets and curses and the ghost of a wolf I couldn’t summon. What if the baby— what if I— was just another burden?

By the time I dressed and made it downstairs, Alaric was already in the kitchen, his broad shoulders tense as he scrolled through messages on his phone. Dark circles bruised his eyes, his stubble thicker than usual.

“Ready?” he asked without looking up.

“Yeah,” I replied, forcing a smile.

Alexander had called an emergency council meeting— ostensibly to discuss the rogue attacks, but I had another agenda. Today was the day I’d speak to the Alpha King.

The drive to the council hall was silent, the weight of unspoken words pressing between us. I leaned against the window, watching the trees blur past, the sunlight warm on my skin.

One week until the election.

One week until everything changes.

The council hall loomed ahead, its marble columns gleaming in the midday sun. Alaric strode off to find Alexander the moment we arrived, and I seized my chance.

The Alpha King’s office was at the end of a long, gilded hallway, guarded by a stern faced she-wolf at a polished oak desk.

“I’m sorry, miss,” she said, barely glancing up from her tablet. “You can’t go in.”

“I need to see the King,” I said.

“Do you have an appointment?” She asked

“No.” I muttered.

She sighed, as if I’d just asked her to move a mountain. “Then you can’t see him.”

I leaned forward, lowering my voice. “Tell the King that Lilac Blackwood requests an audience. And that this is about Alaric Reventhorn.”

Her fingers stilled. For a heartbeat, she just stared at me. Then her eyes glazed over. She was probably mindlinking.

A moment later, she nodded stiffly. “You may go in.”

“Thank you.” I nodded before I walked in.

The office was cavernous, all dark wood and towering bookshelves, the scent of aged parchment and cedar thick in the air. A massive obsidian desk dominated the room, behind which sat King Darius— his silver-streaked hair pulled back, his eyes sharp as a blade.

“Good morning, my king,” I bowed.

“Lilac Blackwood. Why are you here?” he asked, not bothering with pleasantries.

I dipped into a shallow bow. “I have a proposition for you, Your Majesty.”

His lips twitched. “Do you, now?”

“Yes.” I straightened, meeting his gaze. “You want Alaric to step up as a contender for the throne. I can make that happen.”

A beat of silence fell in the room as if he was digesting what I just said.

“And what do you expect in return?” He spoke finally.

“Postpone the election. At least for a month.” I said.

His chair creaked as he leaned back. “Do you think this is a joke?”

“I don’t.” My voice didn’t waver. “The situation is dire. Rogues, witches, traitors in our midst— this isn’t the time for a new king to take power. And besides...” I tilted my head. “You would prefer one of your sons on the throne, wouldn’t you?”

His fingers drummed against the desk. “What’s your motive, Lilac? What do you want from this?”

“Nothing from the throne.” I replied.

“And Alaric?” His gaze flicked to my stomach, so quick I almost missed it. Did he see it? Or was I just being paranoid? “Are you considering him as your chosen mate?”

My pulse stuttered. We were soul mates, not chosen ones.

“That,” I said carefully, “will depend on him.”

The King studied me for a long moment. Then, to my surprise, he laughed— a low, rough sound. “You’re a clever little wolf, Lilac. Be careful. A lot is happening around you these days.”

I bowed again. “Thank you for your concern, my King.”

As I turned to leave, I didn’t need to look back to know he would take the deal.

Because if there was one thing Darius Reventhorn loved more than power, it was his legacy being on the crown.

And I’d just dangled Alaric in front of him like a prize.