Chapter 2: The Funeral Invitation
1291 Words
The morning after tasted like whiskey and regret.
Luna woke tangled in her sheets, her skin still sticky with sweat, her thighs aching from the night before. The scent of him lingered—earth and musk, raw s*x and moonlight. It clung to her skin like a brand.
She sat up in bed, pressing a hand to her forehead. Her body still remembered the way Kael had moved inside her—how he’d filled her, gripped her, kissed her like he’d meant to consume her soul. Her breath caught the memory of his growl, the flash of golden eyes.
"This doesn’t mean anything," she had said.
But even now, every muscle in her body screamed liar.
She wasn’t supposed to feel this. Not for a man. And definitely not for a wolf.
The knock came mid-morning. Three sharp raps. The kind that didn’t ask—it demanded.
She yanked open the door in a black tank and threadbare sweatpants, a knife already palmed behind her back. Habit.
“Nice welcome,” drawled the woman standing outside.
“Cora,” Luna exhaled, lowering the blade.
Her former mission partner stepped inside uninvited, tall and flame-haired, dressed in a stiff hunter’s field jacket that hadn’t seen a night off in months.
“You look like you got dragged by a pack of rogues,” Cora observed, sniffing the air. “Or maybe just one.”
Luna scowled. “Did you come here to insult me or bring me news?”
Cora tossed a sealed black envelope onto the table. The wax seal was unmistakable: the Royal Sigil of the Lycan Court.
Luna froze.
“That’s a summons,” she said flatly.
“More like an invitation,” Cora corrected. “To the funeral.”
Luna’s fingers curled around the edge of the envelope.
“Who died?”
“The King’s eldest son.”
Kael.
The name surged through her like wildfire, unwanted and too familiar. She hadn’t asked his last name. Hadn’t wanted to know.
But now, every inch of her skin went cold.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Cora said slowly. “You okay?”
Luna forced her face blank. “Fine. Just… surprised.”
Cora watched her for a long moment. Then, as if sensing the tension, her tone shifted. “Xavier’s going.”
The name was a slap.
Xavier. Her ex. Her first partner in the field. The boy who had once kissed her like she was sunlight, then left her for power and position, like she was dust in his lungs.
“He’ll be delighted to see you,” Cora said with a dry smile. “Especially since rumor has it he’s betrothed to someone from the royal house now.”
Luna scoffed. “Let him choke on it.”
But something in her clenched.
This was a game of wolves and kings. And somehow, without knowing it, she’d already stepped onto the board.
Two nights later, Luna arrived at the royal grounds.
She wore black—tight-fitting and elegant, with slits up her thighs and a dagger strapped to each calf. Her hair was pinned in coils, her eyes lined dark, her expression unreadable.
The Lycan Court was a stone fortress rising against the blood moon, carved with centuries of bloodlines and betrayal. The smell of power hung thick in the air.
She felt the tension before she even crossed the courtyard. Heads turned. Eyes lingered.
Hunters aren’t welcome here.
Especially not ones who looked like her—deadly, defiant, female.
She was halfway up the grand staircase when she felt it.
Him.
A presence that wrapped around her like invisible chains.
She turned.
Kael stood at the top of the stairs, dressed in a formal black suit tailored to his powerful frame. No tie. Shirt collar open. Tattoos are just visible above the collarbone. Gold eyes burning.
He didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Just looked at her.
Her knees nearly buckled.
Their gazes clashed like swords.
She climbed the last steps slowly, each one deliberate.
“Hunter,” he murmured.
“Alpha,” she returned, voice cool. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“You were invited,” he said.
“You knew I’d come.”
He tilted his head. “You’re hard to forget.”
Her breath hitched.
He stepped closer. One more inch and his chest would brush hers. “You disappeared.”
“So did you.”
“I don’t chase,” he growled.
“Neither do I.”
But gods, she wanted to reach for him. To run her hands down the front of that shirt. To drag him into the shadows and—
“Luna?”
The voice behind her was smooth. Familiar. Poisonous.
She turned.
Xavier.
He was just as beautiful as she remembered. And just as fake.
Dark blond hair perfectly styled, blue eyes sparkling with practiced warmth. He wore the royal colors now—red and silver—like he was born to them. As if he hadn’t once lain beside her and promised her the moon.
“You look… radiant,” he said, brushing a kiss against her cheek that made her skin crawl.
Kael stepped in subtly, his hand grazing her back.
Xavier’s eyes narrowed.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he added.
“Funerals are for closure,” she said flatly.
“Or openings,” he said, smiling thin. “You haven’t met my fiancée yet. Lady Arabella of House Dorran.”
Luna blinked. “Sounds like a treat.”
“She’s very understanding. She even said I should talk to my exes. Resolve old emotions.”
“Did you come to resolve, or gloat?” Luna asked.
Kael let out a low warning rumble.
Xavier’s smile faltered.
As the ceremony began, Kael led Luna to a private balcony overlooking the ritual pyre. He said nothing for a long time.
Only when the flames rose and chants echoed below did he speak.
“You should be careful,” he said.
“Of what?”
“Your ex.” His eyes glittered. “He’s not over you.”
“And you?”
“I never had you.”
She turned to him, anger bubbling. “That night meant nothing. It was heat. Need. Release.”
His hand caught her wrist.
The world went still.
“You’re mine,” he said, voice rough. “Don’t lie to yourself.”
Her heart pounded.
He yanked her into the shadows of the balcony, pressing her back against the wall, just like he had in the alley.
“You think I forgot?” he hissed, hand sliding up her thigh. “The way you moaned when I bit your throat? The way you clenched around me?”
Her breath shuddered.
“You left,” she said.
“To protect you.”
“I don’t need your protection.”
“No,” he said. “But I need you.”
Then he kissed her.
This time it wasn’t violent. It was slow. Torturous. His mouth moved over hers like he was drinking her in.
Her knees buckled and he caught her, dragging her leg around his hip. His hand found the slit in her dress, slipped underneath.
She gasped when he found her slick with need.
“Already wet,” he rasped. “Little hunter, do you even know what you do to me?”
He pressed two fingers inside her, curling. Her body arched, desperate, panting.
“You’re insane,” she whispered.
“No,” he growled. “Just yours.”
She shattered against his hand, muffling her cry against his mouth.
As the royal fire burned the dead below, Kael buried himself in her heat again—this time with eyes wide open.
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