His Abandoned Luna Chapter 44

|| Lilac’s POV ||

The car glided smoothly through the winding roads, the city lights fading into the distance as we ventured deeper into the woods. The trees grew taller and denser, their branches forming a canopy overhead that filtered the moonlight into a soft, silvery glow. The air was crisp and fresh, carrying the earthy scent of pine and the faint rustle of leaves. It felt like stepping into another world one untouched by the chaos and noise of the city.

Alaric drove with ease. The road was lined with wildflowers, their colors muted in the moonlight but still vibrant enough to catch my eye. The further we went, the more the landscape changed. The woods gave way to rolling hills, and soon, towering mountains loomed in the distance, their peaks kissed by the stars. The beauty of it all took my breath away.

“Where are we going?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as I took in the scenery.

“You’ll see,” Alaric replied, a small smile playing on his lips. His eyes were focused on the road, but I could see the excitement in them, the way they sparkled with anticipation.

We drove for what felt like hours. The road twisted and turned. And then, suddenly, we emerged into a clearing. My breath caught in my throat as I took in the sight before me.

The clearing was surrounded by towering mountains, their jagged peaks cutting into the night sky. The woods hugged the edges of the clearing, their dark silhouettes framing the scene like a painting. In the center stood a house no, not just a house, unlike any I had ever seen. It was made entirely of wood, the logs weathered and worn but still sturdy and strong. The roof was sloped, covered in moss that glowed faintly in the moonlight. The windows were large and inviting, their panes reflecting the soft light from inside.

The entire place had an air of timelessness, as if it had been there for centuries, standing strong against the elements. It was beautiful in a way that made my chest ache, a kind of beauty that was raw and untamed, yet somehow comforting.

“This is…” I trailed off, unable to find the words.

“Home,” Alaric said softly, his voice filled with pride. He parked the car and turned to me, his eyes searching mine. “Do you like it?”

“Like it?” I repeated, my voice filled with awe. “Alaric, it’s breathtaking.”

He smiled, his expression softening as he reached over to unbuckle my seatbelt. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

As we stepped out of the car, the cool night air wrapped around me, sending a shiver down my spine. Alaric took my hand, his fingers warm and reassuring as he led me toward the cabin like house. The wooden porch creaked softly under our feet. The door was heavy and solid, its surface carved with intricate patterns that seemed to tell a story.

Alaric pushed the door open, and I stepped inside, my eyes widening as I took in the interior. The inside of the cabin was just as beautiful as the outside, if not more so. The walls were made of the same dark wood, but they were adorned with tapestries and paintings that added warmth and color to the space. The furniture was elegant, each piece carefully chosen to complement the natural beauty of the cabin.

The living room was cozy, with a large stone fireplace taking up one wall. The flames danced and crackled, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. A plush rug covered the floor, its colors muted but rich, and a large, comfortable-looking couch sat in front of the fire. The air was filled with the scent of wood smoke and something sweet cinnamon, maybe?

But what caught my eye the most was the long portrait hanging above the fireplace. It was a painting of a woman, her features soft and elegant, her eyes filled with warmth and kindness. She was beautiful, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her lips curved into a gentle smile. And she looked so much like Alaric.

“This is beautiful,” I said, my voice filled with awe as I stepped closer to the portrait. “Is this…?”

“My mother,” Alaric said softly, his voice tinged with something I couldn’t quite place. He stood beside me, his eyes fixed on the painting. “Luna Aria.”

I glanced at him, my heart aching at the sadness in his eyes. “She was beautiful,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“She was,” Alaric agreed, his voice filled with pride and love. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “Glad you liked it. This is the only home I ever had!"

I leaned into him, my heart swelling with affection. There was so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I just stood there, taking in the beauty of the cabin and the warmth of Alaric’s presence.

After a few moments, Alaric led me to the kitchen, his hand still wrapped around mine as if he had no intention of letting go. The warmth of his touch sent tiny sparks up my arm, and I couldn’t help but revel in the feeling. The kitchen was just as breathtaking as the rest of the cabin rustic yet elegant, with wooden countertops, exposed beams, and shelves lined with neatly arranged jars of herbs and spices. A large window overlooked the vast forest beyond, the moonlight spilling in and bathing the room in a dreamy silver glow. It felt like something out of a fairytale our own little world tucked away from reality.

Alaric finally released my hand to pull open the fridge, his sharp eyes scanning the contents.

“Fish or chicken?” he asked, his voice light, as if this was just any other night, as if the weight of the world didn’t sit on our shoulders.

I blinked, caught off guard by the question.

“What are you up to?” I asked, a playful smile tugging at my lips.

He shut the fridge and turned to me with a smirk, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “I’m going to cook for my princess.”

The words made my heart stutter in my chest.

The way he said it so effortlessly, as though it was a simple truth rather than an extravagant promise left me utterly speechless. My lips parted slightly, but no words came out. I could only stare at him, my breath catching in my throat.

Alaric must have noticed my reaction because his expression softened. He stepped closer, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my cheek. His touch was featherlight, yet it sent a delicious shiver through me.

“You deserve to be treated like a queen, Lilac,” he murmured, his voice a rich, velvety whisper. “And if I can’t give you a crown, I can at least give you a good meal.”

My chest tightened at his words, an overwhelming warmth spreading through me.

“You always know the right thing to say, don’t you?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He grinned, his thumb tracing along my jawline. “I only say what I mean.”

My heart swelled, and before I could stop myself, I stood on my toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. It was supposed to be fleeting, but the second I tasted him the familiar warmth, the intoxicating mix of mint, I felt his hand slide to the small of my back, pulling me closer.

For a moment, I forgot about dinner.

For a moment, I forgot about everything except him.

When we finally pulled apart, I was breathless. His forehead rested against mine, and I could feel his heart beating just as wildly as mine.

“I should cook before I forget what I’m doing,” he murmured, his lips curving into a smirk.

I laughed softly, still trying to steady my breathing. “Yeah, you wouldn’t want me to starve, would you?”

He chuckled, reluctantly stepping back. “Never.”

I leaned against the counter, watching as he grabbed a pan and set it on the stove. There was something so intimate about this moment watching him move with ease, sleeves rolled up, muscles flexing slightly as he prepped the ingredients. It was such a simple thing, yet it made my chest ache in the best way.