Blood Ties And Moonlit Lies のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 31 - チャプター 40

“It’s a good look, Myron,” I say, standing in the middle of the hallway just outside Emerald’s room. “You showing up here. You just upset her. She left because of you.”He leans against the doorframe like he owns the place, his arms crossed over his chest, that permanent scowl shadowing his face. “I didn’t come here for her.”“Then why are you here?” I ask, calm, firm. “Because the last time I checked, this place isn’t yours anymore.”He scoffs. “You think you’re the man now, don’t you?”Myron looks leaner. I almost ask him if he’s been sleeping well. I myself haven't had a good night’s sleep in a week and it's taking a toll. My stomach rolls on itself. Food went from secondary, to way down my priority list. I’d hoped Emerald would prepare a meal but now she’s gone. He pushes off the doorframe, takes a few steps closer, his eyes sparking with a strange kind of fire I’ve come to recognize as delusion. It comes and goes. Just now, before Emerald drove off, I thought I saw penitence in

“Emerald, I'm dealing with the situation, I assure you.”“Then tell me what you know,” she says, dropping her fork. It makes a loud clang on the plate. She hasn't eaten much. “No one is talking to me, no one is telling me anything. All I want is to know what kind of danger I'm in—”“I’ll never let anyone hurt you!” I growl, surprising myself, my eyes burning into hers. Emerald covers her face with one hand and stares into the space between us. Her eyes remained unfocused for some seconds. Then she asks, “Did you tell Myron?”“Tell him what?”“Did you tell him about the pregnancy?”I shake my head. “I believe it's best we keep that between us until this whole situation is sorted out.”She sighs, then begins to trifle with her meal, and I’m watching her eat slowly. I can’t get her stare out of my head. That look she gave me in the hallway earlier—it wasn’t the usual polite avoidance or restrained sorrow I’ve grown used to. It was something else. Something curious. Almost . . . full of

The car is silent as Eli drives, his face set like stone, hands steady on the wheel. But I can tell he’s thinking deeply. The kind of thinking that comes with words too heavy to speak. Oh, I wish he would say something, anything. It will be silence again back at the mansion. Eli gets taciturn at times like this, yet I wonder about him now if this is how he lives most of his days, alone, quiet. Since I've known him, I have never seen him with a woman. Not that I expect he'd tell me about it or introduce her. He probably has someone. Maybe out there in the southern office of his, some beautiful woman who's old enough to be his wife, marked, fated to him. Of course, there's one, isn't there? It has never occurred to me to ask him or Myron. I've only seen Eli as my godfather, that's all. Nothing more, and then my crush. Mine. Mine. Mine. Such a selfish way to view someone old enough to be my dad. I sit curled against the window, watching the road blow past in smudges of light and dark.

I lie in bed and toss again. No woman named Sarah is waiting to be my Luna. How easy that lie flowed from my lips, so well I almost believed it. Did Emerald believe it? Seems so. I’ve changed positions so many times, the sheets are tangled around my legs like chains. Chains I don’t even bother trying to shake off anymore. Sleep won’t come. Not tonight. That mutinous hardon is back again, pummeling at the fly of my pants. I turn my face into the pillow and groan softly. You idiot. Why did you lie to her? Sarah. What kind of name was that, even? The only Sarah I know was a fawning secretary who once worked in the King’s court, an efficient doll I almost took off the king’s hand but gave up on when I heard she was already fated to a fellow alpha. That flame had burned for a whole week but soon waned to a flicker that gave out in work. After that, my heart had reverted to my duties. I’d see Emerald and bemoan my loss of her to my brother on account of the vast age difference. But that w

According to Kresten, he quickly sent out his men when he found out what had happened at the jail office. His men had scoured the woods and found this man who looked like he had survived a kerfuffle with a momma bear. They dragged him back, questioned him about the escaped assassins and he had mouthed the words, “Witch, White one.” Kresten had then brought him back here and locked him in one of the rooms in the armoury. It is a fairly large building with a parapet on which is mounted a guard post. The man is slouched in a chair like his bones are trying to fold in on themselves, clothes tattered, eyes wide like a trapped animal. He smells like burnt sage and fear. He keeps looking around like he expects someone to jump out from the shadows and drag him back to whatever hellhole he just crawled out of."Where did you come from?" I ask him, folding my arms. “Who sent you?”He doesn’t answer immediately. His eyes flick from me to Kresten, then down to the table between us. When he fina