Coming Back as Enemy's Luna

13. Bind

= Amara =

I honestly couldn’t tell whether I should regret ever offering anything to this man, especially when his shoulders began shaking again. And of course—because the universe enjoyed humiliating me—he broke into another bout of loud, unrestrained laughter. Like I’d just delivered the punchline he’d been waiting for his whole life.

Heat rushed up my neck so fast it felt like my skin was about to melt right off my face. Annoyance shot through my chest, sharp and merciless, like someone fired a bullet straight into my ribs. My hands curled into fists on instinct. And by the name of Goddess Selene, I wanted to hit him.

Hard. Preferably in the mouth.

“You—” Mikael choked out, wiping the corner of his eye as if this was the funniest thing he’d heard in years. “You want what?”

“You heard me,” I snapped, my voice tighter than the fists at my sides.

His brow arched slowly, deliberately—like he was savoring this moment just to irritate me further. “Say it again. Just so I can confirm I’m not hallucinating.”

I dragged a breath in through my nose, counting to three, then to five, then to ten, desperately fighting off the urge to slap the smirk right off him. I couldn’t. I needed his help—unfortunately, painfully, disastrously.

So for now, I swallowed my pride…and my violent impulses.

“In return for everything I know about Gravemire,” I said slowly, deliberately, shaping each syllable like a blade, “I want you to name me as your Luna.”

For half a heartbeat, silence. Then he burst into laughter so violently the mattress trembled beneath us. He pushed himself upright, one hand on his knee as he bent over, wheezing. His shoulders shook; he looked like he was fighting for air.

“You—” he tried, voice cracking through the remnants of his laughter, “you really are something. Bold. I’ll give you that.”

“This isn’t a joke,” I snapped, heat simmering under my skin.

“Oh, woman,” he managed between breaths, “it’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all year.”

He dragged both hands through his hair, pacing a loose half-circle as though he needed movement to process the absurdity. When he looked at me again, it was with a mixture of disbelief and unwanted admiration.

“You honestly think I would chain myself to you—make you my Luna—because you’re offering a handful of convenient little secrets?”

“Scraps?” I echoed, my temper flaring like a struck match. “Do you have any idea what I’m holding over you?”

“Believe it or not,” he said, tone smoothing into something colder and far more calculated, “I’m perfectly capable of gathering information without tying myself to you.”

“Oh?” I tilted my head, letting the challenge drip from every inch of my voice. “And how long do you think that will take? Another decade? Twenty years? Maybe when we’re both old and half-dead?”

That landed. For the first time, his smile faltered — just slightly, just enough — but the shift was unmistakable.

Just slightly.

But enough.

I stepped into that opening like it was a battlefield.

“Yes, you can collect intel without me,” I said, layering my tone with a sweetness so fake it could rot teeth. “No one’s questioning your competence, Alpha Mikael.” I flicked my fingers in a lazy little wave, the kind meant to irritate. “But we both know just how agonizingly slow your intelligence missions tend to be.”

The muscle along his jaw twitched—a tiny tell, but enough to feel like a victory.

I drifted a step closer, invading his space like it was my right. “If you had even half of Gravemire’s structure mapped out—its hidden chambers, its chains of command, the rot pulsing inside it—you would’ve acted when you became an Alpha.”

The humor drained from his eyes in an instant, swallowed by something darker, colder.

“Especially back then,” I added, voice dropping. “When I was still inside their walls. Still wearing their mark. Still useful to you in ways no one else could be.” A sharp smile curved my mouth, all teeth and mockery. “But you didn’t act. You didn’t move. Why is that, I wonder?”

The air between us thickened, heavy enough to taste. The kind of pressure that warned a storm was about to break. His breathing slowed, controlled. His expression reshaped itself into something sleek and dangerous.

Mikael took a single step toward me—unhurried, deliberate, the kind of movement that said he didn’t need speed to be lethal.

“You’re treading very close to a line, Amara,” he said, voice quiet enough to be a threat.

“Oh, please.” I crossed my arms over my chest, letting the gesture speak for every ounce of defiance I had. “Go ahead, threaten me all you want. We both know that I’m right.”

His eyes darkened, shadow settling over his features. He looked at me the way a warrior might study a blade he wasn’t sure he should unsheathe—dangerous, calculating, and one decision away from violence.

“You actually believe being my Luna is something for me worth bargaining for?” he muttered, a scoff riding the edge of his voice.

“Yes,” I replied, because the truth was easier than pretending. “I think it’s leverage.”

That made him still.

“You want protection,” he said slowly, as if piecing together a puzzle he didn’t like the shape of.

“I want to survive.” I held his gaze steady, refusing to look away. “Even if it’s only long enough for me to get my revenge. There’s a big difference.”

“And you think I’d bind myself to you just for that?” he asked, disbelief curling in his tone.

“No.” A thin, cool smile tugged at my lips. “But I think you’d bind yourself to anyone who helps you burn Gravemire to ashes.”

His nostrils flared. A muscle ticked in his jaw.

Perfect.

Exactly the reaction I’d been waiting for.