His Abandoned Luna Chapter 195

Lilac lay still in Alaric's arms, her breathing shallow as blood seeped through the coral silk of her gown. The enchanted dagger pulsed with dark energy where it protruded from between her shoulder blades, its obsidian hilt drinking in the light. The room was stunned to find the face of the Nightshade Alpha. On top of that, Lilac being his mate was huge. But none of those thoughts touched Alaric.

His aura exploded outward, shattering nearby goblets and sending candles guttering. A feral growl ripped from his throat as he cradled her closer, his claws pricking the fabric of her dress.

"LILAC!"

Ezra lunged forward, his eyes flashing wolf-glow, only for Marcus to intercept him with an arm across his chest.

"My baby!" Lyra Blackwood's anguished cry cut through the hall as she stumbled toward them, her emerald skirts tangling around her legs.

A deafening snarl stopped them both cold.

"Mine."

Alaric's voice was barely recognizable— Hunter's primal dominance layered thick over every syllable. His arms locked around Lilac's limp form, his entire body trembling with the effort of holding back from tearing out every throat in the room.

"She is my daughter!" Lyra collapsed to her knees, her mate's arms the only thing keeping her upright. "Let her go!"

"Stay away." The command rolled through the hall like thunder.

Endora approached slowly, her hands raised. "Alpha, you must release her. The blade—"

"Son." King Darius knelt beside them, his aged face grim. "Get hold of yourself." His alpha power pressed down on Alaric's shoulders— a weight meant to ground, to support, not dominate.

For one terrifying moment, no one breathed.

Then Alaric's grip loosened just enough for Endora to kneel beside them. The healer's gnarled fingers brushed the dagger's hilt—

Black veins erupted up her arms like poison.

"Moon's mercy," she gasped.

Lyra sobbed into her mate's chest. "My baby, my sweet girl—"

Alaric heard none of it. His world had narrowed to the slowing flutter of Lilac's pulse beneath his fingertips, to the way her golden skin was turning ashen.

"Fix her," he demanded, his voice raw.

Endora's golden eyes lifted, brimming with tears. "This is Death's Shadow magic. It—"

"I DON'T CARE WHAT IT IS!" The windows rattled with Alaric's roar. "SAVE HER!"

The healer flinched. "It's consuming two lives. Hers… and the child's."

Silence.

Then finally Lilac's father spoke.

"The...child?" Benson swayed, his aura flickering like a dying ember. He felt he knew nothing about his daughter. He failed her.

Elara's hands flew to her mouth. Astrid and Madeline stood frozen, their champagne flutes shattering on the marble.

Endora's hands hovered over Lilac's abdomen. "The curse demands a choice. We can divert it to spare one life. The babe or—"

"Lilac. For the hundredth time." Alaric didn't hesitate. His thumb brushed the mating mark he'd left not an hour before. "Save my mate."

A pained murmur swept through the crowd.

Then suddenly Lilac's fingers twitched. Weak. Unconscious. But her hand moved toward her stomach in undeniable protest.

Endora exhaled sharply. "We must get her to the healing chambers. Now."

Alaric stood in one fluid motion, Lilac's body held flush against his chest. As he strode from the hall, the crowd parted like the Red Sea, their whispers following.

"Did you see her stomach?"

"The Nightshade heir—"

"She sacrificed herself..."

Alaric heard none of it. His mind echoed with the promise he'd demanded a few days ago—the one she'd just broken with a smile:

"Promise you won't sacrifice yourself for me."

And now she lay dying in his arms, having done exactly that.

The healing chamber smelled of crushed herbs and iron— thyme, rosemary, and the metallic tang of Lilac's blood soaking into the linen sheets. Alaric hadn't moved from her side, his hands still caked with dried blood where they gripped hers.

Endora's fingers trembled as she ground another batch of moonflower petals into the mortar. The ritual had drained her—dark circles bruised her eyes, her silver hair clinging to her damp forehead.

"There's...a consequence," she said quietly, not looking up. "The magic may leave her barren."

The words hung in the air like smoke.

Alaric didn't blink. "I don't care." His thumb traced the blue veins of Lilac's wrist. "I need her alive."

A tear slipped down Lyra's cheek. Benson pulled her tighter against his chest, his own face ashen.

Endora nodded. She lit the last black candle, its flame burning unnaturally violet. "Then let us begin."

Endora pressed a sachet of crushed rosemary and nightshade berries to the wound. The moment the herbs touched the cursed blade, they hissed, black tendrils of smoke curling toward the ceiling. The dagger glowed red-hot— then dissolved like ash in the wind.

Lilac's back arched off the bed, a silent scream parting her lips.

Endora sliced her own palm, letting blood drip into a chalice of moonwater. She pressed it to Lilac's mouth.

The water turned black.

Endora's hands hovered over Lilac's abdomen, golden light pulsing from her palms. For one heart-stopping moment, a tiny flicker of life answered—weak but stubborn. Then the light sputtered out.

Endora collapsed against the bedside, her breath ragged. "I'm sorry, Alpha. I can't...do more. Seems like a powerful witch prepared the dagger. Their target was you afterall."

The room was tomb-silent.

Lyra muffled a sob into Benson's shoulder. Elara stood frozen near the door, her usual sharp tongue useless. Even Darius looked older, his knuckles white around his cane.

Alaric said nothing. It was meant for him, instead she took in the poison.

He simply gathered Lilac's limp body against his chest, his face buried in her unbound hair. His shoulders didn't shake. He didn't roar or curse.

I failed you, dove. Didn't I?