His Stolen Luna

4. Restraint

~ JOHN-PAUL ~

Was he imagining that she looked hurt? She covered it well, tilting her head and her eyes narrowing as if she examined him for deception.

“I’m not being melodramatic, Lark. If I accept the bond with you, complete it, you will end up dead. And it will be my fault.”

Lark looked around the room as if she thought there was an audience, or perhaps a threat, that she hadn’t noticed.

When she found nothing, she folded her arms. “I’ll admit, that’s a whole new spin on ‘It’s not you, it’s me,’” she said dryly.

F*ck. She was funny too? Resisting her was going to be pure hell.

He fought to keep his face straight, remembering the image of Hannah, sprawled on the floor, her skin gray and eyes open but empty—

John-Paul cleared his throat. “This isn’t a joke,” he said, and his voice sounded hollow, cold, even to his own ears.

She shook her head. “Don’t worry, I get it. I’ve had to let a few guys down through the years.” She huffed humorlessly. “I thought I was creative, but you’re a genius. Who has an answer for, ‘I can’t mate you or you’ll die?’”

“It’s not a line,” he growled.

“Let me guess,” she said, her eyes flashing, “You’ve got the ex from hell, just a purely physical thing. You don’t want to encourage her, but sometimes you just can’t resist—and she gets homicidal every time you mate someone else?”

John-Paul’s upper lip curled away from his teeth and he leaned into her again. “I fought a demon and before I killed it, it cursed me to die alone—forever wanted by females I couldn't take. And it took my wife as the sacrifice to seal it’s f****d up power over my life.”

Lark’s head snapped back.

He didn’t back off. Kept their eyes locked. “I know it sounds like a movie, but it’s f*****g real. I won’t put anyone else through that—and I definitely can’t take losing another mate. So, no, Lark, it’s not a line, and I’m not playing with you. There are no exes, no mate partners at all—I can’t risk a bond snapping into place.”

Lark giggled suddenly and he frowned harder. But she raised her hands to stop his protest.

"Sorry, nervous habit," she said. Then she swallowed and her face went serious. "You've fought them? The demons? Face to face?" she asked quietly, like she was afraid someone might overhear.

"Yes. Haven't you?"

Lark shook her head. "My father hasn't let me. He's afraid I'll get hurt and not be able to have a baby."

It was John-Paul's turn to be shocked. "What the hell is he doing?" he asked, horrified. "If you're going to bear the White Wolf, you need to know what you're up against more than anyone. And be able to teach your young how to fight!"

She dropped her eyes to the floor. "That was my argument too. But he's been adamant. And what am I supposed to do? If my pack won't train me, I can't learn. And it's not like if I go hunting for one they're going to go easy on me to give me a chance to learn on the fly."

John-Paul was ready to have this male's throat. What the f**k was he thinking, leaving her so vulnerable?

Then she rocked his world. "Are you... only interested in this because of that?" she asked, her voice steely. "Because if that's the only reason, you’re off the hook. Because I'm not convinced I'm even the one those prophecies talk about."

John-Paul raked a hand through his hair and tried not to let his jaw hit the floor. “I don’t care about that—I’m kind of wishing I’d had this idea sooner, honestly. Just to get my pack off my back. But… now you’ve piqued my interest. You don’t think you’ll have the White Wolf?”

Her face went tense, hunted, and she looked around the room again. But when she turned back to him, her jaw was set. “You’ve been honest with me, so I’ll return the favor. We should both know what we’re getting into, right?”

He nodded dumbly.

She took a deep breath. “Nothing else makes sense. He’s never let me train or fight. He’s kept me on a leash my whole life. It’s the only thing he ever talks about, and yet the couple times a male almost had my pack convinced to give it a shot, he pulled the plug on the pairing. I mean, I was grateful the first time. The male was a thug. But the second time? If he really wants all the status of being the grandsire of the White Wolf, at some point I have to mate. But it seems like he doesn’t want me to mate, he just wants to parade me around and lord my power over people.” She looked at him uneasily. “What if it’s all a lie? What if I don’t have any power at all?”

John-Paul growled in his throat, and she flinched. But he shook his head. “If it’s true that he’s manipulated you—and the bloodlines—into believing that you’re the one, he deserves to be the one in the hands of the demons. But if he hasn’t, then he’s done you a huge disservice. Either way, you need to get out of there.”

“I know.” The words seemed to scare her. She looked at him, not shying away, but obviously uneasy.

They stared at each other for a long, breathless moment, then he turned and opened a hand toward the couch. “Why don’t we sit down?”

They both sat, staring straight ahead at the wall. John-Paul was still frowning. He couldn’t figure out why her story got so under his skin, except that the aggressive and self-serving nature of some of the Alphas had always sat uneasily for him. While their females were strong, the truth was, they were simply smaller. More lithe, often faster. But never as strong. Most fully-grown Alpha males could overpower an equally mature Alpha female alone unless she was especially fast and ruthless in her fighting. Yet even then… Lark had four brothers. If even one of them joined her father in this… she wouldn’t stand a chance.

He was so lost in his thoughts when she spoke it startled him.

"So... that's why you disappeared after she died? Not because you killed her? Not because you've been plotting the downfall of the bloodlines?"

John-Paul blinked. This f*****g rumor again? He rolled his eyes. “No. I mean, yes, that’s why I wasn’t around. But no. I have not had any desire to plot the downfall of the bloodlines. I am not the Demon Alpha.”

She whistled. “That means the rumors about you are even more off-base than the rumors about me.”

He huffed. “Are rumors ever reliable?”

She shrugged. “Sometimes.”

He’d heard these rumors about himself for years at this point. Had been brushing them off and ignoring them since his mate’s death. But for some reason, hearing them from her mouth prickled in a way they hadn’t in years.

He turned his head to examine her as he asked, much more aggressively than he should have, “Did you really believe that I wanted to bring the bloodlines down?”

“I didn’t know what to believe.”

He growled in his throat, shaking his head. “I have never given anyone any reason to believe that kind of darkness about me. And you—if you know that the packs say things about you that aren’t true, why believe what they say about me?”

Lark shrugged. “Not everything is a lie. Some are just exaggerated. Others are true.”

“Oh? What have they said about you that’s true?”

Quick as a flash, she smiled and batted her eyelashes at him. “Haven’t you heard about how sweet I am?” she cooed, then she rolled her eyes.