All Chapters of The Luna's Groom: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

E L E A N O R I stared at Asmodeus, my gaze unwavering, a silent challenge in my eyes. "You do?" The words were barely a whisper, laced with disbelief, a desperate hope that he might retract his statement, that there was a different path. I don't think I've ever truly wanted to accept my fae powers. It felt, in a deeply unsettling way, like I was trying to replace Reina. I’ve had my share of mourning her, a grief that gnawed at me constantly, a silent apology for even being born, for existing in a way that made me suitable to let Ravon use me as a vessel, for being the reason he took her away in the process. My very existence felt like a betrayal of her memory, a constant reminder of what was lost. Now, I was being told I was supposed to exploit my tribrid abilities, with two versions of my power gone, leaving me with just one. The very version that Perseus had, in his past, made sure went extinct, eradicating fairies from the world. It was a cruel twist of fate, a bitter irony t

A U T H O R Severus slammed his hand on the polished wooden table, the sharp crack echoing through the otherwise opulent chambers. He aggressively ran his hands through his hair, his usually composed demeanor completely shattered. Perseus stared at him, a flicker of irritation in his eyes, utterly unable to comprehend what had Severus so thoroughly worked up. He remained seated, radiating an almost regal detachment, yet a cold knot of confusion tightened in his stomach. “Can you hear yourself? You’ll get rid of Eleanor?” Severus barked, his voice laced with incredulity, as if Perseus had suggested something utterly unthinkable. His gaze was fierce, demanding an explanation, a retraction. “Loud and clear,” Perseus responded, his tone heavy with an unshakeable confidence, a certainty that bordered on arrogance. He spoke as though he possessed all the facts, as though his decision was not only justified but entirely inevitable. “I’ve done my best to make sure that there are no fairi

A U T H O R "When he was younger, around thirteen. It was a bit complicated then; he couldn't even remember his own mother, or even me, for that matter," Severus answered, his voice low as he recalled the distant past. Bernadette sat up, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place in her mind. A sudden realization dawned on her. "His dragon... maybe it's his dragon, his dragon doesn't remember Eleanor. Eleanor took Ryder's memories, but—" "But isn't Perseus independent on his own? Why does he rely on his Lycan and dragon to dictate his memories and his very being?" Severus countered, confusion evident in his voice. "Because he's been suppressed." She answered, her movements quick and decisive as she hastily picked up Severus's shirt from where it lay discarded and slipped it on. The fabric felt warm against her skin. "I've studied the potion that Asmodeus gave him, the one meant to hide his dragon. It didn't affect his emotions, but it made Ryder, his Lycan, far more dominant

E L E A N O R My father's execution is tomorrow. It's a truth that hangs heavy in the air, a cold, undeniable fact. I'm sure that, with time, I can accept it, even if a part of me aches. I know, logically, that it’s for the best, a necessary consequence. Just a day ago, Margaret was released alongside Dolores. I hadn't wanted to witness their emergence, to see the light touch their faces after so long, so I chose to stay on the balcony, a silent observer from above. I had specifically asked Severus to release them, to use them as a means of covering the catastrophic mess Perseus had gotten himself into. Isn't it truly crazy? Watching my enemies, those who had tormented me, shiver at the mere sight of sunlight. Dolores, I heard, was even rumored to be murmuring incoherent words to herself. Whatever horrors they had endured in that white room had clearly shattered their minds, leaving them with broken, dysfunctional bodies and responses. I only stayed in a dungeon for a couple o

Warning:[Erotic Scene Ahead] E L E A N O R I wasn't going to rely on cold water to ease my arousal again, not when I had a husband, a mate, lying right there. The thought solidified in my mind, a fierce determination replacing the last vestiges of hesitation. I had waited long enough. He needed to remember, and I was going to make sure of it. "And how do you plan to do that? Show me a bracelet you made on our wedding night, perhaps?" He laughed, a low, skeptical sound that held a hint of amusement, just as I pulled him down, closing the small gap between us. My lips met his in a hungry, desperate clash, a collision of suppressed longing and explosive desire. In that instant, as our mouths fused, I was reminded of all the things I hadn't felt in days, in weeks, perhaps even months. It wasn’t just physical sensation; it was a profound sense of connection, a recognition that transcended his current amnesia. We were kissing each other like animals, driven by pure instinct, by a pr