CHAPTER 8: THE MOON DOES NOT ASK

Lyra learned the rules of the Nightbane stronghold without anyone ever explaining them to her.

The first rule was silence.

Not the absence of sound… but the way every footstep softened when Ares entered a room. The way servants lowered their eyes. The way warriors who looked capable of tearing a man in half straightened like chastened children.

The second rule was distance.

No one touched her without permission. No one spoke to her longer than necessary. And no one… absolutely no one… questioned why a human girl was housed in the inner wing of the Alpha King’s fortress.

The third rule was him.

Ares Nightbane was everywhere and nowhere at once.

He did not hover. He did not crowd. But Lyra always felt him. In the walls. In the air. In the subtle pressure that settled in her chest whenever he was near.

Like the world itself knew who ruled it.

She stood by the tall window now, bare feet sinking into thick furs, watching the forest sway beneath the rising Moon. Her body felt stronger today. Too strong. Her senses sharper than they had ever been.

She could hear heartbeats down the hall.

She could smell iron… leather… smoke… and him.

Always him.

“You should be resting.”

His voice came from behind her, low and steady.

Lyra didn’t turn right away. “I am resting,” she replied. “Just… upright.”

Ares stepped closer, stopping a careful distance behind her. She could feel his heat at her back, the contained power coiled beneath his skin.

“You heal faster when you sleep,” he said.

“You keep saying that,” she murmured. “Like you’re monitoring me.”

“I am.”

She turned then.

He stood in dark trousers and a fitted black shirt, sleeves unbuttoned, collar loose. The faint glow of firelight caught in his eyes, gold threaded with something older… something that watched her like prey and sanctuary all at once.

“You watch me breathe,” Lyra said softly.

“Yes.”

“You listen to my heartbeat.”

“Yes.”

“And you still claim you don’t want a mate.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw.

“That,” he said quietly, “is exactly why I didn’t want one.”

She stepped closer before she could stop herself. Not touching. Just closing the space.

“Because you lose control?”

“No,” Ares replied. “Because I gain something worse.”

Her brow furrowed. “What?”

“Something to lose.”

The words settled heavily between them.

Lyra swallowed. “You’re afraid.”

His eyes darkened. “I am experienced.”

She studied him… really studied him now that the fever haze was gone.

This was her first clear look at the Lycan King in his human form.

He was tall… not just in height but in presence. Broad shoulders built for violence. Narrow hips. Long legs that carried power even in stillness. His face was sharp… strong jaw, straight nose, lips that rarely softened. Scars marked his hands and forearms… old, pale, earned.

Beautiful… in a way that warned rather than invited.

And yet… when his gaze dropped to her mouth, his breath changed.

“You don’t look at anyone else like this,” she said.

Ares exhaled slowly. “Because no one else does this to me.”

Her pulse fluttered. “Does what?”

“Makes the Moon impatient.”

The words sent a strange ache through her chest.

“The Moon Goddess,” Lyra whispered. “You hate her.”

Ares turned away, moving to the fire. “She binds without consent. She claims without mercy. She takes warriors and turns them into beasts ruled by instinct.”

“And you?” Lyra asked. “What did she take from you?”

He stared into the flames for a long moment before answering.

“She took my choice.”

Lyra’s voice softened. “What happened?”

Ares didn’t look at her when he spoke.

“My parents were mated by the Moon,” he said. “They were powerful. Feared. But the bond twisted them. Obsession became control. Love became ownership.”

His hands clenched slowly. “My mother died believing my father was her only truth. My father died believing she belonged to him even in death.”

Lyra’s chest tightened.

“I watched the bond destroy them,” he continued. “So when the Moon marked me as Alpha King… I swore I would never kneel to her gift.”

“And then I bled,” Lyra whispered.

“Yes.”

He turned back to her, eyes burning.

“And the Moon laughed.”

The room felt smaller again.

“You keep saying my blood isn’t human,” Lyra said. “But I grew up human. I lived among them. I starved like them. I buried my dead like them.”

“And yet,” Ares said quietly, “you called a Lycan King across a kingdom with a single wound.”

Her throat tightened. “What am I?”

His gaze softened… just a fraction.

“Someone the world tried to forget.”

A knock echoed suddenly.

Ares stiffened instantly, the beast rising under his skin.

“Enter,” he commanded.

The door opened just enough for one of his commanders to bow deeply. “Alpha King… the Council requests your presence.”

Ares’s eyes flashed. “They can wait.”

“They are insisting,” the commander said carefully. “They know about her.”

Lyra’s breath caught.

Ares turned to her, scanning her face as if committing it to memory.

“Do not leave this room,” he said.

“I wasn’t planning to,” she replied quietly.

His gaze lingered. Then he nodded once and left.

The moment the door closed, the room felt colder.

Lyra wrapped her arms around herself, heart racing.

They know about her.

The realization settled like a shadow.

Minutes passed… or hours. Time felt strange here.

Finally, the door opened again.

Ares returned… but he was different.

His control was tighter. His eyes darker. His shoulders rigid with restrained violence.

“They want to see you,” he said.

Lyra’s stomach dropped. “Who?”

“The High Council,” Ares replied. “The ones who believe bloodlines should stay buried.”

Fear licked up her spine. “And you?”

“I believe,” he said, stepping closer, “that anyone who touches you without my consent will lose their hands.”

Her breath shuddered.

“Ares…”

He lifted her chin gently, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“Listen to me,” he said softly. “From this moment on, the world will try to define you.”

She nodded.

“Do not let them,” he continued. “Do not bow. Do not beg.”

His thumb brushed her jaw. Warm. Steady.

“You are under my protection,” he said. “And if the Moon itself demands you…”

His voice dropped into a vow that made her blood sing.

“…it will have to come through me.”

Lyra’s chest ached.

She didn’t know what she was becoming.

She didn’t know what waited beyond those doors.

But she knew this.

The Moon had begun its claim.

And the Lycan King… whether he wanted it or not… was already hers as much as she was his.

The bond tightened.

The night held its breath.

And fate… finally started to move.