His Abandoned Luna Chapter 189

|| Lilac’s POV ||

The moment I heard the news of Alaric’s return, my teacup slipped from my fingers, shattering against the hardwood floor. The sound echoed through the suddenly silent kitchen.

He’s back.

I was out of the door before the porcelain shards stopped spinning, my bare feet slapping against cold wood as I sprinted toward the packhouse. The evening air burned my lungs, but I didn’t slow - couldn’t slow. Not when every second apart had been its own special kind of torment.

The packhouse loomed ahead, its windows glowing like watchful eyes. But something was wrong. The usual hum of activity had been replaced by an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional raised voice filtering through the study walls.

I took the steps two at a time, my pulse hammering in my throat. The door was slightly ajar, and the heated debate within made my hand freeze on the knob.

“—absolute madness!” Elizabeth’s shrill voice cut through the tension. “The curse will kill him before the coronation is over!”

A chair screeched. Marcus’s voice was uncharacteristically sharp. “And what is your brilliant alternative? Let the witches pick us off one by one while we cower?”

“Enough!” Garry’s deep baritone rumbled. “The Goddess’s decree is clear— no Nightshade shall sit on the throne without consequence.”

“The Goddess also commanded us to protect our people,” Marcus countered. “Or have you forgotten your oaths?”

Another voice joined—Tyrin, ever the diplomat. “There must be another way. Perhaps a regency until—”

“Until what?” Marcus slammed his fist on the table. “Until Agatha’s forces are at our gates? Until we’re drowning in rogue attacks?”

Elizabeth’s laugh was bitter. “So we sacrifice Alaric instead? How very noble of you.”

“That’s not what I am proposing!” Marcus roared.

The study door creaked as I pushed it open. All conversation ceased. All pairs of eyes snapped to me - Marcus’s and Tyrin’s worried, Elizabeth’s hostile, Garry’s calculating. But only one gaze mattered.

Alaric stood by the window, the light carving shadows into the new scars that marred his arms. His dark hair was longer, his beard untamed, but it was the exhaustion in his storm-grey eyes that shattered me.

“We need to talk,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

“Dove.” His voice was rough as gravel. “Can it wait?”

“No.” The word cracked like a whip. “It can’t.”

The room tensed. Elizabeth opened her mouth, but I didn’t give her the chance.

“You’re always gone. Always fighting.” My hands trembled at my sides. “I’m tired, Alaric. Tired of the games. I’m...” A traitorous tear escaped. “I’m scared.”

His brow furrowed. “We’re in a crisis, Lilac.”

“What about me?” The dam broke. My hand flew to my stomach before I could stop it. “What about—”

Alaric crossed the room in two strides. His large hands framed my face, his breath coming in short bursts. “Are you...?”

The room gasped.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His thumb brushed away my tears.

“I tried!” The sob tore from my throat. “You’re never here! When would I—”

Alaric made a sound I’d never heard before - raw, broken, reverent - as his knees hit the floor with a thud that shook the room. His massive hands framed my waist with impossible gentleness, his forehead pressing against my stomach as his entire body trembled.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped, his voice muffled against my dress. “Goddess, I’m so sorry. I left you alone with this—”

Tears blurred my vision as I carded my fingers through his hair, his lips brushing against my womb in the softest of kisses.

“Dove.” His voice broke as he sank even further before the entire council. His forehead pressed against my stomach, his shoulders shaking.

“Leave us,” he growled without looking up.

“No.” I gripped his shoulders. “They need to hear this.”

Alaric stood slowly, his hands never leaving my waist.

“There’s something else.” I swallowed hard. “The day Runa said ‘mate’...”

“We know it was a spell. Why are you bringing this up?” Alaric interrupted, a little dissatisfied.

“It would have been if my true mate hadn’t been there. No spell is stronger than the mate bond.” I said.

Elizabeth’s scoff cut through the silence. “You’re saying your mate was there too?”

Ignoring her mouth, I grabbed his hand, pressing it over my heart.

The room stilled again.

“Don’t you feel it?” I whispered, my free hand cupping Alaric’s stubbled cheek. “The sparks? The pull?” My voice broke. “This unconditional love that terrifies me because I would burn the world for you?”

A whimper escaped me as Runa pressed against my consciousness, yearning for Hunter’s recognition.

“It has been you, Alaric. Always you… you stupid…” my voice broke.

Alaric’s breath hitched. His eyes flashed wolf-gold.

Then—

A growl ripped from his chest as Hunter surged forward. “MATE.”

The windows rattled. The council recoiled.

The moment Alaric’s growl shook the study, the room erupted.

Marcus was the first to react. His chair clattered backward as he shot to his feet, coffee splattering across battle maps.

“By the Goddess...” His eyes darted between my stomach and Alaric’s glowing ones. The scent of his shock flooded the room.

Elizabeth’s porcelain teacup slipped from her fingers, shattering against the hardwood.

“This is impossible,” she whispered, but the way her hands trembled betrayed her. Her usual floral perfume soured with something acrid, something unknown.

Garry’s reaction was quieter but no less profound. The old warrior slowly removed his glasses, polishing them with shaking fingers. When he spoke, his voice was rougher than I’d ever heard it. “The curse… if the mate bond is true...”

Tyrin, ever the strategist, was already moving. She barred the door with her bulk, her nostrils flaring as she scented the truth in the air. “We need to secure the perimeter. If word gets out before—”

“No.” My voice cut through the chaos. I kept one hand pressed against Alaric’s chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart beneath my palm. “Let them talk.”

Elizabeth found her voice first. “You expect us to believe that after weeks of silence, you’re suddenly—”

Alaric’s snarl cut her off. The windows rattled in their frames as Hunter’s power rolled through the room in waves. Every wolf present— even proud Elizabeth— instinctively bared their throats.

Marcus recovered fastest. He righted his chair with deliberate calm, but I didn’t miss how his fingers lingered on the hilt of his dagger.

“This changes everything,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone.

Garry’s chair creaked as he leaned forward.

“The Nightshade curse was always tied to an unmated Alpha. If the bond is consummated before the coronation...” His gaze dropped meaningfully to my stomach.

A choked sound escaped Elizabeth. “You can’t seriously be considering—”

“The throne has its heir,” Tyrin said quietly, resting a hand on her shoulder. She shook her off violently.

Alaric’s arms tightened around me, his breath hot against my temple. “Leave. Us.”

This time, no one argued.

Marcus was the last to go. At the door, he turned back, his weathered face unreadable.

“The pack will need proof,” he said quietly. “A public ceremony before the full moon.”

Then we were alone.

Alaric’s hands framed my face, his thumbs brushing away tears I hadn’t realized were falling.

“How are you? Did you see Endora? ” he asked.

“We are both ok,” I smiled.

“How long?” He asked.

“Ten weeks,” I whispered.

His forehead dropped to mine. “I’ll kill every witch in the kingdom before they touch you.”