The Alpha's blind Luna:Desired by Rival Alphas

Lyra’s POV

The kiss had started slowly, just enough for his tongue to dominate my mouth, his hazel eyes burning into mine. I couldn’t hold his gaze for long—it was too intense. So I shut my eyes, letting the warmth of his lips drown me, savoring the moment as though it might be the last.

This was the dream every maiden in the New Age pack lived for: to be chosen, to marry the Alpha, to walk down the aisle with a confidence we pretended to own but never truly had. And somehow… I had been the one to live it.

He pulled away only slightly, his lips grazing my ear as his warm breath brushed against my skin.

“My Luna.”

That was years ago. Yet the memory lived in my mind as if it had happened yesterday. Sometimes, clinging to it was the only way I survived the sorrow that followed.

The creak of the door snapped me back to reality. Again, I'd been consumed by my thoughts. My eyes flicked to the door as it turned, his scent hitting my nostrils. That was the only way I could tell if he was in the room or not.

I wiped the tears hastily from my cheeks, forcing a smile to meet him.

“Are you ready, love?” His voice was gentle, cautious, as though he feared the question itself might shatter me.

I nodded quickly, maybe too quickly. “Yes… yes, I’m ready.”

My fingers curled into the fabric of my dress, and I silently thanked the Moon Goddess for blessing me with him. Partly Blind. Partly deaf. Broken in so many ways. And yet, he never changed. He never left. Every day, I prayed for him—prayed that the Goddess would shower him with the blessings I could not give.

After I got inflicted with illness a few days after my marriage, I got transferred to a Pack's healing home: a place where diviners would attend to me, just to find the cure of this sickness that ravaged my body. I felt like I was a lab dog, as every drug and herb from the diviners and hospital was given to me, hoping that I'd heal.

I'd missed home.

He reached out, his warm hands steadying me as he helped me rise from the chair. His touch was the only anchor I needed, guiding me down the stairs, step by careful step. I clung to him, his scent still filling my nostrils as my brain weirdly memorized the rhythm of his heartbeat beside mine.

“Stay strong for me, Lyra,” he whispered as he settled me into the car. His voice trembled just slightly, but he quickly covered it with a smile I could feel in his words. “Your blindness will heal. I believe it. Maybe that’s why the doctor asked to see us—maybe he’s found a cure.”

I wasn't a fan of the word “Hope,” but I trusted him. I bit my lip, afraid to believe, afraid to let myself dream again. And yet… I wanted to.

“I love you,” I whispered, pressing my lips to his. It was soft, almost grounding, a kiss that carried all the things I couldn’t say out loud.

He pulled me against him, and I rested my head on his chest, stroking the coarse edges of his beard with trembling fingers. His heartbeat was steady beneath my ear, and for a moment, the world felt whole again.

The screeching of the car tyres filled the air as the car drove into the streets of New Age, and after a while of weaving through the traffic, we arrived.

The sharp scent of antiseptic greeted me the moment we stepped into the hospital. I scrunched my nose, and he chuckled softly.

“You still hate that smell,” he teased, brushing his thumb over my knuckles.

“It makes me feel like I’m already sick,” I muttered, leaning closer to him.

“You’re not sick, Lyra. You’re stronger than anyone I know.”

We entered the doctor’s office together, and he guided me to a seat, never letting go of my hand. The silence stretched for a moment, heavy, like the world itself was holding its breath.

Then, the doctor cleared his throat.

“Alpha Kendrick, Luna Lyra… I’ll be straightforward.” I swallowed hard. The shuffling of papers filled the air. “Lyra, your condition has progressed. You are not only blind, but your hearing is deteriorating as well. In time, you will lose it completely.”

My spine stiffened, my eyes widening in horror.

No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. I clenched my fists in my lap, shaking my head even though I couldn’t see him.

“There must be a mistake,” I whispered. My voice cracked. “There has to be.”

There was no way I'd lose my sight and my hearing. This had to be a joke, but I knew better. The person sitting before me was a doctor, not a clown or circus freak.

I tried to make meaning of the words he'd spewed, but they made no sense… maybe to me.

“I’m afraid… there’s no cure. Nothing we can do will reverse this.”

My jaw was left hanging, sweat beading down my forehead as my chest tightened. The silence that settled in the atmosphere was unbearable.

I'd come here to get cured, not to get a death sentence. My throat burned as I turned towards Kendrick, “Tell him he’s wrong. Please. Tell him…”

Kendrick’s grip on my hand tightened. I could feel the tension in his body even before he spoke.

“There must be something you can do,” he pressed, his voice firmer now. “We can try another treatment, another healer, another pack’s medicine. Anything.”

The doctor sighed. I could almost hear the weight of the pause. “Alpha, I understand your concern, but this is a rare degenerative condition. I’ve consulted with healers and specialists. There is no cure. All we can do is manage the symptoms as they progress.”

The silence in the room pressed against my chest, stealing the air from my lungs.

“No cure…” I whispered. The words tasted like ash.

Kendrick leaned closer, cupping my face in his hands, forcing me to focus on the warmth of his touch instead of the despair clawing inside me. “Lyra, listen to me. As long as I’m here, as long as we’re together, nothing—nothing—will separate us. Do you hear me?”

Tears burned my useless eyes, but I managed to force a trembling smile. “I hear you.”

He kissed me softly, lingering as though he could transfer his strength into me. I clung to it, even as fear coiled in my stomach.

Pulling back, he brushed his thumb across my cheek. “I need to make some arrangements for your homecoming, my love. Give me just a minute.”

I nodded, releasing his hand reluctantly. The sound of his footsteps faded as he left the room.

The doctor cleared his throat. “You’re lucky, Lyra,” he said gently. “Not everyone has a partner as steadfast as yours. Many wouldn’t stay.”

His words cut deeper than he knew. Lucky? Was it luck to be cursed like this? To lose sight, to lose hearing, to become a burden? I pressed my lips together, swallowing the ache in my throat.

When Kendrick returned, he offered his arm, and I took it. He kept filling my head up with false hope, a joke a part of the brain ignored.

“Dear Luna Goddess, I don't want to be a burden,” I muttered, tears streaming down my chin.

I sat stiffly in the car as it rolled through the gates of the packhouse. Through the window, I could faintly make out the tall blur of trees and the faint silver glow of the moon overhead. It had been months since I’d last seen this place—months spent in a sterile hospital room, doctors whispering about treatments that never worked.

Now I was home.

The tires crunched to a halt. I gripped the door handle, my palm slick with sweat, but before I could move, a warm hand closed over mine. I didn’t need to see clearly to know it was Kendrick. His scent, his steady presence—it was enough.

“Easy,” he murmured, his voice close to my ear so I wouldn’t miss a word.

I tilted my head, searching for him. My vision caught only the blurred outline of his figure leaning toward me, the dark shape of his hair, and the faintest patch of blue—his shirt. I remembered that shirt. I’d given it to him last winter. I couldn’t make out his face, but in my mind, I filled in the details I longed for: hazel eyes watching me, that soft smile that once steadied me.

My chest tightened. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d truly seen his eyes.

Kendrick helped me out of the car, his hand never leaving mine. My feet faltered against the gravel, but he steadied me with the gentleness that had become his habit since my body began betraying me.

The moment we entered the packhouse, a rush of voices greeted us. Too many at once, muffled and unclear. I caught fragments

“welcome home, Luna.so good to see you again,”but the rest of the voices were muffled. My ears strained, aching to make sense of the sounds. I hated this part most.

Kendrick’s breath brushed my temple. “Smile,” he whispered, guiding me forward. “They’re happy you’re back.”

I did as he asked. I smiled. A careful, practiced curve of my lips. Inside, my stomach twisted.

The dining hall came alive with clinking dishes, the scrape of chairs, and the muffled hum of voices I couldn’t fully follow. A blur of figures moved around me—shadows and colors, nothing more. I had to rely on the tug of Kendrick’s hand and the warmth of his palm to know where I belonged.

When the music finally faded, and the chatter dissolved into quiet laughter, I felt the weight of the day settle over me. Kendrick had gone out to meet the guests who were leaving, and I sat alone, my cane resting against the chair, my fingers tightening around it.

I let out a soft exhale, my shoulders shrugging.

“Lyra?” A familiar voice broke through the air. Soft and tender. It was my mother. Her feet padded on the marble floor as she walked towards me.

Her hand brushed against my shoulder before tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, just like she used to when I was little.

“I’ve made arrangements for someone to stay with you,” she said gently, pausing for a while. “Someone to help with little things so you won't have to struggle.”

How thoughtful.

I tilted my head, curiosity getting the better side of me.

“Who?” I asked.

She chuckled softly, patting my back as she muttered slowly,

“Your sister.”