Semua Bab The Alpha’s Rejected Human Luna: Bab 101 - Bab 110

POV: Lilah They chose the clearing.Not the old altar, with its cracked stones and ghosts of a thousand whispered prayers. Not the solemn, shadow‑choked hall. The place we’d fought and bled and broken the curse was still half rubble.So we went somewhere new.Fresh‑cut boughs arched overhead, woven into a wide ring with ribbons and late‑blooming wildflowers tucked between the leaves. Torches ringed the space, their flames steady and low, throwing soft gold against the deepening blue of the sky. Above us, the Moon floated clear and round, pale as bone.Someone—Naomi, by the chaos of it—had scattered petals along the path from the edge of the trees to the open center. A few pups were still darting out to rearrange them at the last second, ignoring their parents’ hissed admonitions to sit down and stay quiet.The whole pack was there.Warriors lined the outer ring, leathers cleaned as best they could, scars new and old catching the torchlight. Elders clustered in their somber knots, ro

POV: Lilah I woke to warmth.Not the feverish, wrong kind that came with curse‑fire or too much blood on stone. The simple, heavy warmth of a body at my back and sunlight spilling across sheets that smelled like cedar and wolf and… us.For a second, my brain offered the old reflex: Where am I, how do I get out, who’s hunting me—Then the bond hummed, low and steady, and a sleepy hand tightened at my waist.Right.Ronan’s bed. Our bed.Luna Vale.The thought made something flutter in my chest, light and disbelieving. The words sounded like they belonged to someone else—some poised, polished woman in a story, not the girl who’d once nearly set a temple on fire because she’d panicked during a ritual.Ronan made a soft noise behind me, face nuzzling into my hair. “You’re thinking too loud,” he muttered, voice rough with sleep.“That’s not how brains work,” I whispered back, but I relaxed into him, letting his heat soak into muscles still sore from too many days of battle and not enough

POV: Lilah The second morning, I woke as Luna. Nothing was on fire.No alarms. There are no pounding boots tearing down the corridor. No distant thunder of wards shuddering under an attack.Just birds.Actual birds.I lay still in Ronan’s bed and listened, letting my brain catalog the sounds like I was learning a new language.Birds gossip in the pines beyond the open window. The high, delighted shrieks of pups outside somewhere arguing about rules only they understood. A burst of laughter from the training yard, the kind that followed a well‑landed joke, not a well‑landed blow.No one was yelling my name like a curse or a prayer.No one was bleeding on the floor.The absence of crisis felt… wrong at first. My muscles tensed, waiting for the other shoe or bomb or metaphysical disaster to drop.The bond hummed. A large, warm hand slid from my hip to my stomach, fingers splaying like he was claiming real estate.“Stop flinching at the birds,” Ronan murmured behind me, voice still thic

POV: Lilah By the time Ronan caught up, Bella had herded Naomi and me down the corridor like a pair of unruly pups and shoved us into the small bathroom off the infirmary.“Privacy,” she’d said firmly, shutting the door in his worried face. “Give us ten minutes.”Ten minutes had never sounded so impossible.Now I sat on the closed lid of the toilet, a cheap plastic test burning a brand in my palm, while Naomi paced a groove in the tile and Bella watched me like she was ready to catch me if gravity suddenly failed.“You sure you peed enough?” Naomi said, scanning the folded instructions again. “It says ‘saturate.’ That’s such a gross word.”“I followed the picture,” I said tightly. “I can handle a stick, Naomi.”She opened her mouth, thought better of whatever innuendo was forming there, and snapped it closed.The little clock above the sink ticked. Loud. Obnoxious.Bella checked it. “Three minutes,” she reminded us. “We have to wait three minutes.”“I hate this,” I muttered.“You fo

The first time it happened, I was sitting on the balcony alone, hands wrapped around a mug of ginger tea. Morwen swore would help with the queasy mornings. The forest spread beneath me, a sea of green and shadow.Somewhere below, a patrol howl drifted up, warning of a minor border dispute with a neighboring pack. Nothing urgent. Routine.Still, my muscles clenched. My mind jumped automatically to worst‑case scenarios. Threats. Battles. Blood on the moss.My hand drifted to my stomach.“Not today,” I whispered to the air, to the pup, to any cosmic force listening. “We’ve done our time with war. You’re not going to see it unless you choose to.”A warmth flared under my palm, not the usual hum of my own magic, but something softer. Reaction, not initiation.It spread in a thin layer around me, like a shield inflating and then settling. The air shimmered faintly; the bond thrummed in response, threads of energy twisting around that new, delicate pulse inside me.For a heartbeat, I swore I