Nira Daswell’s Will: Oath with the Devil

Nira's POV

Today was going to be perfect.

I helped Adene stir the batter properly.

"You're doing great, but try to stir harder with your right."

The girl looked up. She was covered in flour and raw eggs, cracking nearly half the crate of them. But her smile was as bright as mine.

"I remember you telling the head chef that you were the 'queen of pastry' where you're coming from?"

She laughed.

"Well....I put that in for moral sake."

I let go of her hand once she got the rhythm right.

"Stir consistently and you'll be the perfect pastry queen."

She curtseyed.

"Thank you, Luna."

"You're welcome, Adene."

I clapped my hands three times and drew the attention of everyone in the kitchen toward me.

"Today," I cleared my throat, beaming with pride. "We welcome the great warrior Bren Hemlock, our Alpha, our leader, our father, our shepherd....my mate, and husband-to-be."

They hooted teasingly, and my lips stretched even wider with pride.

"He returns to us from the war today, a victor, a conqueror, and we will welcome him in kind. So I ask that we all contribute our very best in making sure we welcome him in the warmest ways."

"You're absolutely right, my lady," Gregory, one of the members of Bren's outer court, spoke. "Alpha Bren should come home to the best welcome celebration this pack has ever thrown. After all, he has won the battle for us."

I nodded.

"Aye. You speak wisdom as always, lord Gregory."

"Oh, Luna, you're too kind."

I chuckled and turned my attention to the next person raising their hand.

"Yes? Phillip, if I remember correctly."

"Yes, Luna." He bowed, re-adjusting the cap that sat on his nimble head. "If I may ask, do we invite Alpha Nightbourne?"

The whole room went dead quiet at the mention of the beast's name.

"Why would you even think I would ever invite that abomination of a wolf, that monster, that weapon of vile cruelty, that father's rogues in his land? Into the welcoming celebration of Bren?"

More so when he had attempted to hang my Bren's head on spikes on several occasions.

"Right, Luna. I-I just wanted to confirm."

I took a deep breath.

"It's not your fault Philip, I just get a little anxious when we talk about...you know who."

He dipped his head.

"That's perfectly understandable Luna."

"Sorry I yelled."

His eyes widened.

"Oh, no Luna...it's perfectly fine."

I held back a laugh. He acted like a dainty cobbler.

Everyone turned back to their duties and I went upstairs.

The war had stolen him from me for a full year, twelve moons without Bren’s warmth, without the weight of his hand on my skin, without the fire of his lips against mine. My body remembered him in cruel detail, and it was a surprise how I managed to string my sanity together.

The door to my chamber shut behind me with a soft click. Lysa, my handmaid, waited as always, with her head bowed and posture obedient—an omega of low blood, but clever with her hands and quick with her silences.

I trusted her enough to let her undress me.

“Please fetch the red gown for me,” I said.

“Yes, my lady,” she replied, scurrying to the wardrobe.

I oversaw her unhooking the silk. She carried it with both hands, as though it were sacred, and in a way, it was. Tonight, I would not just dress as a Luna, I would dress as a woman ready to reclaim her mate.

The bodice was tight against my waist, shaping me into perfection. The sleeves clung to my arms, and the neckline dipped just enough to tease, intentionally.

“You look radiant, my lady,” she murmured.

"Thank you Lysa."

I caught my reflection in the mirror, my lips curving into a slow smile. Radiant? Yes. But I also looked dangerous, desired, and... intimacy-starved.

“Good,” I whispered, tilting my chin higher. “Because when Bren sees me tonight, he’ll forget every drop of blood spilled on that battlefield. He’ll remember only me.”

I could feel the wetness between my thighs, the way it missed a stalk to swallow and grip tightly onto. And tonight, I will feed it.

__________

"HE HAS ARRIVED!!!!"

The cry thundered through the halls, rattling my bones with wild excitement. I gathered my skirts and rushed up the stone steps until I reached the pinnacle of the pack house. From here, the land spread wide before me, the view belonging more to castles than packhouses, and I drank in the sight below.

Hundreds of warriors marched homeward in triumph. Their armor gleamed, their banners whooshed freely in the wind, and their roars of victory split the sky. My gaze found him at once, as though my soul knew precisely where he walked.

Bren.

Even from this distance, his presence dwarfed the others. He was broad-shouldered, proud, and his stride was that of a man who owned the world. His name was on every lip, his victories chanted in unison, and for a moment, the sensation of it all blurred my vision. Tears burned my eyes, spilling freely down my cheeks.

He looked up at me, and I couldn’t wait a second longer. Gathering my skirts once more, I flew down the staircases, past startled omegas and guards bowing out of my way. By the time I reached the courtyard, the gates had opened wide, and the metallic scent clinging to them embraced the open grounds.

The moment Bren crossed the inner gate, I broke through the crowd.

“Bren!”

The world narrowed to the heat of him, the hardness of his chest against my body, the familiar weight of his arms wrapping around me. I buried my face into his neck, drinking in the scent I had been starved of for twelve moons. My tears soaked into his tunic, and I didn’t care.

“You’re home,” I whispered, trembling. “Finally... you’re home.”

For a heartbeat, everything was perfect: his warmth, his scent, the way his arms closed around me. But then something was off.

There was a nervous stiffness in his shoulders.

I pulled back, still smiling through my tears, but his smile in return… it was too tight.

“Bren?” I breathed, brushing my fingers across his jaw, "Is there something wrong? Hehe, am I hugging you too tight, my love?"

He bowed his head slightly, a gesture of respect that felt formal.

“Nira,” he said softly.

"Yes?"

“There is…” His voice broke for a moment before he steadied it. “There is something I must tell you. It happened during the war.”