His Christmas Mate

Chapter 21

_Aria's POV_

It was finally time for me to undergo the ritual. Lucien had brought special clothes for me to wear. It was a black dress, long and flowy. I asked him why black and he said that black is a sacred color for werewolves. “It holds the night,” he told me as if the answer were obvious. “It honors Selene.”

I let him help me into the dress. The fabric slipped over my skin like cold water. The skirt fell in soft folds around my legs. When I turned in front of the mirror, I looked smaller and more exposed than I had felt all week.

Lucien moved carefully. He was adjusting a fold here and lifting a hem there. His touch was gentle. It made my heart beat in a way I could not explain.

“You look gorgeous,” he said, his eyes moving over me in a way that made my heart stumble. There was a teasing warmth in his voice. “If the moon has eyes tonight, it will be jealous.”

I huffed a small laugh even as heat rushed to my face. “You say things like that too easily,” I said, trying to sound unimpressed.

“That is because I mean them. And because you blush every time. I find it very hard to ignore.” His smile tilted into something playful. “I should dress you in black more often.”

“You should not."

He leaned closer and brushed a light kiss near my temple. It was quick and gentle but it sent a warm shiver through me. When he pulled back, his expression changed. The teasing faded and something serious took its place.

“You need to be strong tonight,” he said quietly. “No matter what happens, we finish this. I will be there the whole time. You will not face it alone.”

“I know,” I said. I had already agreed. I had already given pieces of myself. Still, every promise felt like standing at the edge of something deep, knowing that I had to step forward even if I could not see the bottom.

Isolde came in then. She moved slowly, carrying a little bag. She opened her bag and drew out a pendant tied to a long red string. The pendant looked odd and old. It was a disk of dark stone. The surface was carved with a spiral that curled inward like a sleeping thing. The metal rim around the stone was dull and pitted, and thin lines etched into it made a pattern I could not name. The red string had faded threads and tiny knots as if it had been tied and untied many times.

“This is for you,” Isolde said. Her voice had a dry calm. “It will keep you whole while the moon opens the gates.”

Lucien watched me as she held the pendant up. “It will protect you,” he said. “Keep it close to your skin. Do not take it off until it is finished.”

Isolde stepped forward and looped the red string around my neck. Her fingers were cool when they brushed my skin. The pendant settled against my chest like a small and heavy secret. I felt its weight and the tiny chill of the carved stone. She tied the knot and tucked the ends. “Do not touch it,” she told me. “It listens.”

The word made my skin prick. I wanted to ask what she meant but Lucien squeezed my hand and the question died in my throat. He gave me a quick and almost playful look. “Try not to think of it as an eavesdropper,” he said lightly. “Think of it as a blanket for your spirit.”

Dylan and Jack took charge at the mansion. Dylan looked like a man with a thousand small duties pressed into his shoulders and Jack moved like the quiet and solid kind of man who does not waste breath. They gathered the guards and made sure everyone was ready. Jack checked the flashlights one by one and handed out the spare batteries. He also loaded medical kits and thick coats into the cars.

Everything moved in a careful and steady way. They worked fast and without panic. It felt like they knew danger well and were used to preparing for it.

I rode in the back seat with Lucien. Isolde sat in the front and Jack drove. The other guards followed in two cars behind us. Lucien reached across and took my hand as if a small touch could keep the worry from falling into panic. “Don’t worry too much,” he said, and his voice was steady and warm. “This will go quickly. You will see.”

The city lights slipped away and then trees rose and arched above us. The paved road turned to dirt and the car bumped and dipped so that I had to hold my balance and the hem of my dress caught on the seat once. As the houses thinned, the air changed. It smelled of wet leaves and cold earth and the lights behind us dwindled until only the car’s headlights cut a path through the dark. Isolde told us we would have to walk the last stretch because the undergrowth was too thick. When we stopped, I felt the forest breathe around us like a living roof.

Lucien stayed by my side the whole time. He handed me a small torch at first but then took it back when he said we should let Isolde lead with the light. He joked that he would carry me over the uneven ground like a spoiled queen if I wanted him to and I told him no because I could walk even though my legs felt a little unsteady. He laughed and the sound eased the tight ache in my chest.

We walked in a tight group. My boots were slipping on moss and the damp leaf litter, and Isolde’s lantern made pale circles that jumped across tree trunks. The path turned and rose and fell and I had to look at my feet so I would not stumble over a buried root. Every time I almost fell, Lucien’s hand found my elbow and steadied me and each time I felt that small electricity pass between us.

After a long walk, Isolde stopped and pointed ahead. Through the trees, between leaning trunks and the dark, I saw stone. At first it looked like a smudge against the night, then it resolved into blocks and pillars. There was a ring of older rock that hunched like a thing that had been asleep for a very long time. The ruins rose out of the earth like bones that the world had refused to bury properly.

The closer I looked, the more wrong the place felt. The stones were broken and blackened, as if fire had once kissed them and never left. Some pillars leaned at sharp angles. They were held up by nothing. Strange markings were cut into the rock. They were worn and cracked, yet they still seemed deep, like scars that had never healed. The air around the ruins felt heavy. It pressed against my chest and made it hard to take a full breath.

A cold shiver slid down my spine. I did not know why, but my skin felt tight as if it were warning me. This place did not feel like a place of light. It did not feel like comfort or prayer. It felt old and watching.

“Lucien,” I whispered, my voice smaller than I wanted it to be. “Is this really the Selene temple?”

He did not hesitate. He stepped closer and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. His touch was warm and firm. “Yes,” he said gently. “It is old. That is why it feels strong. Selene’s sacred places are never gentle.”

I nodded, even though the feeling in my chest did not ease. The pendant at my neck felt heavier now. It was cold against my skin. The ruins stood silent ahead of us, dark against the night sky, waiting.

I told myself to trust him. Still, the shadows between the stones seemed too deep, and something inside me whispered that this place was not meant for prayer at all.