His Abandoned Luna Chapter 45

|| Lilac’s POV ||

The cabin was bathed in the soft glow of the firelight, the warmth of the flames casting flickering shadows across the room. The scent of herbs and spices filled the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the wood and the faint sweetness of the wine we had been sipping. Alaric moved around the kitchen with practiced ease, his muscles flexing as he chopped vegetables and stirred sauces. I couldn’t help but watch him, my eyes tracing the lines of his broad shoulders and the way his hands moved with precision and grace.

There was something mesmerizing about the way he worked, the rhythm of his movements almost hypnotic. He was completely in his element, his focus entirely on the task at hand. But every now and then, he would glance over at me, his eyes meeting mine, and a small smile would tug at his lips. It was a smile that made my heart skip a beat, a smile that made me feel like I was the only person in the world.

“Enjoying the view?” Alaric asked, his voice low and teasing as he caught me staring.

I felt my cheeks flush, but I didn’t look away.

“Maybe,” I replied, my voice filled with a playful defiance. “You’re not exactly hard to look at.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich, and turned back to the stove. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Dove.”

I laughed, the sound light and carefree, and took another sip of my wine. The night was perfect, the kind of night I had always dreamed of but never thought I would have. The kind of night where the world outside didn’t matter, where it was just the two of us, lost in our own little bubble.

As the night deepened, the tension between us grew, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering glances. Alaric’s hands brushed against mine as he handed me another glass of wine, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. Our eyes met, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. The firelight danced in his eyes, casting them in a warm, golden glow that made my heart ache.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice soft and filled with something I couldn’t quite place.

I felt my cheeks flush, but I didn’t look away.

“I know,” I replied, my voice trembling slightly.

He smiled, his eyes softening as he stepped closer. “I mean it, Lilac. You’re… incredible.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just stood there, my heart pounding in my chest as he leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in a kiss that was soft and sweet, yet filled with a passion that took my breath away. His hands cupped my face, his touch gentle but firm, and I melted into him, my body responding to his in a way that felt almost instinctual.

The kiss deepened, the world around us fading into nothing as we lost ourselves in each other. His hands moved to my waist, pulling me closer, and I could feel the heat of his body against mine, the strength of his arms as they wrapped around me. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss, a moment where nothing else mattered but the two of us.

Eventually, Alaric pulled away, his breathing ragged as he rested his forehead against mine.

“Dinner’s ready,” he said, his voice low and filled with a warmth that made my heart ache.

I nodded, my mind still reeling from the intensity of the moment. He took my hand and led me to the table, where a feast awaited us. The table was set with simple yet elegant dishes, the kind of food that was made with love and care. There was a roasted chicken, its skin golden and crispy, a bowl of steaming vegetables, and a plate of freshly baked bread. The aromas were intoxicating, and my stomach growled in anticipation.

“This looks amazing,” I said, my voice filled with awe as I took my seat.

Alaric smiled, his eyes filled with pride as he sat down across from me. “I hope you like it.”

We ate in comfortable silence, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the occasional clink of cutlery against plates. The food was delicious, each bite bursting with flavor, and I couldn’t help but marvel at Alaric’s skill in the kitchen. He had always been full of surprises, but this was something else entirely.

After dinner, we moved to the living room, where the fire still crackled softly, casting a warm, flickering glow over the wooden walls. The scent of burning cedar filled the air, mingling with the lingering traces of wine and the delicious meal we had shared. It felt… safe. Intimate.

I curled up against Alaric, my head resting on his shoulder, his arm draped loosely around my waist. The weight of his touch was comforting, grounding. The silence between us wasn’t empty it was peaceful, a quiet understanding that didn’t need words.

The wine had loosened my inhibitions, and a slow warmth spread through me, making me feel lighter, almost free. For the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to enjoy this moment, to soak in the simple pleasure of being close to him.

But as the night stretched on and the wine dulled my walls, my thoughts drifted into the past dark, painful memories that lurked in the shadows of my mind, waiting for the right moment to resurface. And as I gazed up at Alaric, the words tumbled from my lips before I could stop them.

"Where were you when I needed you the most?"

The moment I spoke, the warmth between us shifted, turning into something heavier. The weight of my question lingered in the air, unspoken pain laced in every syllable.

Alaric stiffened beneath me, his muscles tensing as he turned his head slightly to look at me. His brows furrowed, confusion flickering in his eyes. "When?" he asked softly, his voice laced with concern.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, my chest tightening as old wounds threatened to reopen. The memories clawed their way back into my mind, unrelenting.

"When they tortured Ezra… when they killed my parents… and then…"

My voice cracked. A sharp, unbearable pain twisted inside me, the past colliding with the present in a brutal wave. My hands clenched into fists against my lap as the floodgates broke, hot tears spilling down my cheeks before I could stop them.

Alaric’s entire body went still. The warmth in his eyes darkened into something raw, something haunted. He stared at me as if my words had physically wounded him. “Lilac…” he breathed, his voice laced with guilt so deep it was almost unbearable to hear.

I wiped at my tears, but they wouldn’t stop. The ache in my chest was suffocating. “I needed you,” I whispered, my voice fragile, broken. “And you weren’t there.”