MOON BOUND DECEPTION

Chapter 10 Galactic

The soft hum of afternoon sunlight filtered through the tall windows of Avane’s dorm room, casting golden stripes across the bedspread. Her books were stacked neatly for once, clothes laid out in nervous anticipation. The gala was only a few hours away, and the nerves crawling through her chest were starting to coil tighter.

“You’re going to be fine,” Elara said, her voice smooth with certainty as she adjusted the strap on Avane’s gown. “You’re going to walk in there and turn heads.”

Avane gave a soft laugh, tugging self-consciously at the satin fabric. “It feels like I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. This dress... this whole event. What if I say something dumb? What if I stand out?”

“You will stand out,” Elara said firmly, brushing a strand of hair behind Avane’s ear. “But not for the reasons you think. You earned your spot here. Tonight is about celebrating that—and meeting people who’ll probably be your classmates for the next few years.”

Avane nodded, then looked at her friend in the mirror. “Are you sure you can’t come?”

Elara smiled, a little wistful. “Only for first years, remember? They say it’s to help you all bond without the pressure of upperclassmen hovering over you.”

“That sounds fake,” Avane teased.

“Oh, absolutely,” Elara grinned. “But still, I’ll be here when you get back. I expect a full report.”

Avane turned back to her reflection. The gown was a deep blue, a shade just shy of midnight. It swept around her ankles and shimmered when she moved. Her hair was pulled into a soft half-up braid, courtesy of Elara’s nimble fingers, and a touch of gloss glinted on her lips. She looked older. Like someone who belonged.

“I overheard a few names you’ll probably want to remember,” Elara said, sitting cross-legged on the bed, reaching for a small notepad. “Marin Lavesque—top of the department in Environmental Science. She’s intense, but brilliant. And Leo Byers—he’s charming, and a bit of a flirt, but good to know.”

Avane arched a brow. “Anyone not intimidating or dangerously attractive?”

Elara chuckled. “You’ll find your people. You always do.”

There was a beat of quiet as Avane smoothed her skirt again. “Thank you. I mean it. I don’t know how I would’ve gotten through this week without you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. We all need someone when we start fresh.” Her tone shifted a little then, and she leaned back on her palms. “Besides, it helps to take a break from my own chaos. Botany’s been brutal lately. I’ve got a workload that could crush a small village.”

“Then why are you here helping me get ready?” Avane asked, touched.

Elara shrugged, a half-smile tugging at her lips. “Because it matters. And because you matter.”

Avane blinked, caught off guard by the simple sincerity in her voice.

“Also,” Elara added with mock seriousness, “if you’re going to get swept into a world of power, charm, and complicated politics, you might as well look amazing doing it.”

They both laughed then, the sound easy and warm.

Avane moved to the door and pulled on a light shawl. “I heard some students talking about weeding for the departments... something about proving you belong?”

“Ah,” Elara said, expression cooling slightly. “That’s an unofficial tradition. You don't find out if you truly belong until after it. But I don't think you have to worry about that yet.

Avane nodded, absorbing the words.

Outside, the sun was beginning to dip, painting the sky in peach and lavender hues. The campus beyond the window buzzed with quiet anticipation—footsteps, distant chatter, the occasional flutter of gowns in motion.

“You’ll do great,” Elara said as she followed her to the door. “Just be yourself. That’s what makes you unforgettable.”

Avane turned and hugged her tightly. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” Elara replied with a grin. “Now go knock ‘em dead.”

As Avane stepped into the hallway, her heart fluttered with a mix of nerves and excitement. The gala waited, along with the unknown. But for the first time, she didn’t feel like she was walking into it alone.

The gala glittered, but Ava outshone it.

Daxus had been watching her from the moment she arrived. The crowd blurred. The music dulled. That red dress—molten silk clinging to skin—held his attention like nothing else. She wasn’t doing anything, just standing there, surveying the room, but the way the fabric hugged her hips, the line of her throat, the curve of her lips—it all locked him in place.

Predators didn’t chase immediately. They observed.

When she stepped onto the balcony alone, he followed.

He didn’t announce himself. He didn’t have to. She sensed him, the way prey senses danger at their back.

“You wear that dress like it was made for you,” he said, stepping into her space.

She didn’t turn, but her spine lengthened. “You’ve been watching me.”

“Studying you,” he corrected, voice calm. “You move like you don’t know what you do to people. That’s what makes it worse.”

She glanced over her shoulder, letting him see the curve of her jaw, her mouth. “And you think you’re the one who understands me?”

“I don’t need to think,” he said, voice low, thick with certainty. “I know.”

She knew he wanted her, she was heady for the knowledge. She wanted him too. More out of curiosity than need.

She turned to face him then, her gaze sharp and steady. “Then prove it.”

He didn’t answer with words.

His hand rose, knuckles brushing her bare arm in a featherlight touch. His eyes dragged over her slowly—reverent, greedy, aching. Like a man starving for something he wasn’t sure he deserved.

“You’re made to be looked at,” he murmured, fingertips tracing her collarbone. “And touched.”

Her breath caught, but she held his gaze. “Then do it.”

That was all he needed.

He closed the space between them, lips crashing into hers, one arm locking around her waist, anchoring her to him. The kiss was wildfire—raw, desperate, claiming. His other hand skimmed down her back, gripping her hip with a sense of possession.

Ava answered him with matching fire, threading her fingers into his hair and tugging just enough to drag a growl from his throat. The sound shuddered through her, primal and full of dark promise.

He broke the kiss to whisper, breath hot against her lips, “Softer than I imagined.”

She smirked, voice breathless. “You’ve imagined this?”

“Too many times.” Too many times since he learned of her. He had wished to hold her in his arms, and do wicked things to her. His mouth grazed her throat. “And none of them came close.”

They disappeared into a nearby lounge without another word. The moment the door shut, his hands were on her again, tugging the zipper of her dress with practiced ease.

The silk slipped from her shoulders and puddled at her feet.

Daxus stepped back for a heartbeat, just to look. “You’re a vision. If I were a better man, I’d worship you first.”

“Good thing you’re not,” she murmured.

It was all the permission he needed.

He pressed her down onto the velvet couch, hovering above her without distance. He kissed her again—slower this time, more deliberate. His mouth moved along her jaw, down her neck, and lower still, mapping a path with lips and tongue. His hands followed, exploring her curves like sacred territory.

Ava’s heart was racing, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she looked up at him, feeling the weight of his gaze. Her hands reached for him again, pulling at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin. She needed him closer, needed the pressure of him against her.

When he entered her, it wasn’t rushed, and she was ready for him.It was intentional. Every movement was measured, like he was trying to memorize how she felt. Each gasp, each arch of her body, every whispered plea—he took them all, a man learning worship in his own way.

Ava met him in equal measure. She wasn’t just being taken; she was taking too. Hands pulling, hips matching his rhythm, eyes never shying from his. She gave in without giving up.

They moved together like opposing forces that somehow fit—wild and steady, hungry and whole.

The sound of their lovemaking echoed in the lounge. Maybe someone had passed, maybe they know what they were doing but no one dared to interrupt.

More and more they took and gave to each other, lost in each other.

And when the climax came, it rolled through them like thunder, leaving them trembling, tangled, undone.

Afterward, they lay in a tangle of limbs, sweat-slicked and breathless. His arms didn’t loosen. His face stayed buried in her neck, like she was the only air he trusted to breathe.

Ava closed her eyes, chest rising and falling, heart still racing. She should’ve been pulling away, but she couldn’t. Not yet.

Then he spoke again—his voice low, rough, vulnerable.

“Don’t move,” he whispered against her ear. “I’m not done appreciating you yet.”

The words curled around her spine like heat.

Ava shivered—visibly. What did that mean.

It wasn’t from cold. It was the way his voice sounded wrapped in raw honesty, stripped of charm or seduction. It made her heart thud harder, made her breath falter. For a moment, she didn’t feel like a girl he wanted to conquer—but someone he needed to hold on to.

She swallowed, caught between wanting to tease and wanting to feel safe in it.

“I didn’t think you were the lingering type,” she whispered. Moving to shift to a more comfortable position but he held her there still, buried in her.

He didn’t move. “You’re not the kind of woman a man walks away from.” Not that he planned to.

He flipped over to his back, thinking she might need her space. Not wanting to overwhelm her.

Ava didn’t answer—not with words. She shifted closer, head resting lightly against his chest. She listened to the steady beat of his heart under her cheek, and let herself be still.

For tonight, at least.