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Chapter 42
Last Updated:
2023-04-03 03:37:32
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Will Bear the Moon Chapter 53 Drunkard
*Ana*"I'm sorry?" The words slip out smaller than I intend, soft and brittle, like a glass ornament held too tightly. The goblet in my hand feels suddenly heavy, as though the weight of the wine has doubled. The stem, slick from condensation, threatens to slide from my fingers. I shift my grip, but the warmth of the wine against my palm is uncomfortable, cloying, as if the heat comes not from the liquid but from my unsteady pulse."You mean... my father?" I ask, the words careful and measured, each syllable shaped with forced innocence. The question tastes strange on my tongue, metallic with uncertainty. Surely that's what she means. Who else would she mean?But Bratha doesn’t answer—at least, not with words.She bursts into laughter.The sound erupts from deep in her chest like thunder cracking across a summer sky—raw, too loud, violent in its intensity. It shakes the very air between us, sending vibrations through my bones. She doubles over slightly, one manicured hand pressed agai
Will Bear the Moon Chapter 52 Expected But No Better Prepared
*Ana*The music hits me first as we re-enter the ballroom.A waltz—soft but swelling—spins through the air like spun gold, its strings blooming over the hum of conversation and the occasional crystalline clink of silver against porcelain. The moment I cross the threshold, warmth from the crackling fire pits and the heavy, weighted oil perfume of the nobles rush over me like a second skin, thick with amber and bergamot that clings to the back of my throat. Candlelight flickers in every sconce and chandelier, bouncing off jewels and polished metals with tiny starbursts of light, gilding the Lords of Nochten in firelight and expectation.Even without an announcement, it’s like they know to look back. Every red-eyed noble in the room turns toward me.All of them. Dozens moving in eerie unison, their gazes landing squarely on me—measured, hungry, precise.The collective weight of their attention presses against my skin like a physical thing, making the fine hairs on my arms rise beneath my
Will Bear the Moon Chapter 51 You're Old Enough Now
*Ana*That was awful of me.The thoughts sits weighted on my tongue as the quiet in the east wing sits like silk over stone—soft, but weighted. I exhale, the sound barely louder than the ticking of the gilded clock nestled on the mantle across from me. Firelight bathes the sitting room in amber warmth, low orange embers crackling with whispered promises of comfort. Comfort that seems to elude me right now. One of the less used sitting rooms, chosen precisely for its distance from prying eyes and eager tongues. But not too far to be completely cut off from everyone if I am needed. It’s a room meant for calm. For sorting through thoughts before they become decisions. Yet my fingers worry the smooth mahogany of the nearest chair, unable to settle, my mind a restless.I never thought I’d want to leave a party so fast then I did right then. The party breathes behind us still, its pulse seeping through marble walls and painted corridors. Muted violins weave through distant laughter, a pha
Will Bear the Moon Can I Squeeze Through Prt. II
*Nicoli*“Mind if I cut in?” It wasn’t a question. A hand landed on Nicoli's shoulder—firm, warm, deliberate. The grip radiated heat through the silk of his doublet, steady as an anchor but weighted with unmistakable authority. It wasn't aggressive, but there was something in that touch that halted him mid-step, like hearing the low rumble of a lion stirring from its den. Golden eyes lifting with predatory interest, singling in on its prey. Or rather… rival.Nicoli's pulse stuttered.The voice had come from just behind his left shoulder—low, calm, and laced with the kind of authority that never needed to raise its volume. But when it did, you regretted ever hearing it. A tone, Nicoli only had to experience very few times when he was being especially naughty as a child. But to listen to the shadow of it now was–Father? He turned, already confused at the interruption of the last person he’d expect. Why is he— The low thrum of strings and scattered laughter dimmed beneath the cold p
Will Bear the Moon Chapter 49 Can I Squeeze Through
*Nicoli*The scent of pine and spiced wine clung thick in the air, mingling with the ghostly smoke from braziers and the rustle of silk as nobles swept past in their elaborate gowns. Nicoli slipped between a veiled woman and her partner, her jewelry chiming softly as she turned. "Pardon me," he murmured—half out of habit, half out of desperation that clawed at his throat.The words barely registered past his lips. He was drowning in sensation: the warm pulse of firelight painting everything amber and gold, the fire pits crackling like distant thunder, the chill from the open patio doors that made the marble floor bite through his thin-soled shoes. But the cold was nothing compared to the fire racing through his veins.He wasn't cold. He was burning.He was close.His shoes made soft, measured taps against the marble—a rhythm far too controlled for his pulse, which hammered against his ribs like a caged bird desperate for flight. The thunderous beating should have drowned out everythi
Will Bear the Moon Chapter 48 Eyes On Me
Chapter 48 Eyes On Me*Hidi*Chapter 48Hidi trying to properly introduce Nicoli to her mom again but Nicoli is distracted by AnaEnds up dancing with Pendwick insteadGoes to sulk with her momGetting annoyed at Ana for hogging NicoliHidiLaughter bubbled up again from Hidi's throat like fine champagne—deep, rich, and unmistakably hers. The sound carried a tremor of victory, of finally having everything exactly as it should be. Her skirts flared wide with each step, the emerald velvet catching candlelight like captured starfire. The weight of the fabric against her legs felt like armor, like power made tangible. She loved the way it drew eyes—the sharp intake of breath from onlookers, the involuntary step backward. Loved even more the way people scrambled to get out of her way.The vampires danced as if afraid of their own sleeves—stiff-backed, too dignified, too correct. Every movement measured to the point of suffocation. Every step more tradition than joy, their bodies held so ri
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