The Dark Alpha: True Luna

Chapter 21: Captive

I sit against the bed's headboard with only my bedside lamp on. Rouven's journal is propped up by my bent legs. Daniel and Reid are, for the most part, soundless in their cribs. I moved Daniel's so they're both at my side and in the night's peaceful lull, I read. I start to understand Rouven's perspective and realize our beliefs aren't so different, that all packs shouldn't fall apart at Draven's rise. We share a complex opinion of the Goddess, one that paints her as neither wholly good nor bad. Rouven fears she is not the loving mother our ancestors insisted she is, but that she is grey, or worse—completely indifferent.

Rouven rambles in one lengthy paragraph about her toying with us and then argues in another how the Goddess's goal for Draven may very well be all-powerful darkness. It isn't the most comforting bedtime reading, and it will likely give me nightmares, yet I read on. For a good few days, I didn't have the energy to open the journal, but it's been thirteen now, and I'm adapting to the pain.

Thirteen days without my mate. I envy how oblivious I was fourteen days ago.

After a bit more reading, I place the journal back in my nightstand's drawer, shut it, and turn off the lamp. I should try and rest before Reid or Daniel wakes up with a rumbling tummy or soiled cloth. Alexa and Corrine went to bed hours ago, closed away in their guest rooms while Owen and Kent guard the house shifted. During the day, they switch with other guards and return home to rest; it's more organized this way compared to the random scheduling we had in place before.

I settle in bed, clutching the covers against my chest. Some nights I still cry; it happens abruptly. I watch the ceiling and wait for a sudden burning behind my eyes or pressure in my throat. Last night was a tearful one. I writhed under the blankets for hours and sobbed. Amy had to launder the bedding as I drenched it with tears, sweat, leaking milk, and snot. It's easy to cry for Theo. I could do so endlessly.

My eyes close after some time. I could be asleep, but I hear the door downstairs open. One of the guards must need something—I always tell them to help themselves to anything in the kitchen. Elise has been baking plenty of muffins after Corrine discovered I'll eat them if they're on hand. Currently, seven different flavors crowd the kitchen counter with an overflow stored in the freezer. Elise says she's experimenting with the less popular, and therefore more available ingredients from the gardens.

I turn onto my side and yank at the covers, eager to nod off again while the boys are still asleep. And then footsteps come up the stairs. My eyes open. Oddly, my heart is calm.

I rationalize that it's Alexa sneaking in from a meeting with Owen, or Corrine returning to her guest room from a soothing cup of tea in the kitchen. It could even be one of the guards from outside on his way to fetch me because Corbin needs something or Crasna is finally attacking.

Theo's scent leaks into the room from the crack in the doors. Every one of my muscles tense. The footsteps carry through the upstairs hallway, and one of my bedroom doors creaks quietly as it opens further. I lie frozen, terrified that if I turn around, he won't be there.

His scent is so powerful, it smothers my airways like a hand over my mouth and nose. He approaches the bed, and I lash upright.

Theo stands at the end of the bed, nearly naked save for a pair of too-small shorts. He's dirty, disheveled, and as still as stone.

"Are you real?" I ask through the darkness. "Is it you?"

Physically, it must be him. Knowing Rouven and his struggles, Theo's mental state isn't so obvious, however.

He breathes in. "When I spoke with my mother at the Silva pack house and I said I loved you, you were listening down the hallway around the corner. You heard me say it."