Bound To The Alpha

Chapter 12: The Pull Of The Moon

(Lucian’s POV)

The night air bit at my skin as I stepped out of the hall, the distant murmur of voices fading behind me. Laughter, music, the clinking of goblets — all meaningless noise compared to the storm in my chest. Ragnar paced restlessly within me, his growl echoing in the corners of my mind.

Go back to her.

I clenched my jaw and ignored him. The feast had been a mistake. Every breath I’d taken inside that hall had been drenched in her scent — jasmine and pine, faintly sweet, like the forest after rain. It had clung to my throat, coiled around my mind until all I could think about was her.

Myra.

Her name was a whisper that refused to die.

I had spent years mastering restraint — every emotion, every weakness buried under layers of iron will. But the moment I’d seen her walk into that hall, it all began to fracture. That dress — soft sage green, clinging to her shape, the silver patterns catching the candlelight like moonfire — it had stolen the air from my lungs. Her hair framed her face like a secret I wasn’t meant to touch, and her eyes… goddess, her eyes had found me across the crowd, even when she tried to look away.

Ours, Ragnar rumbled, voice low and dangerous. You know it as I do.

She’s nothing we need, I answered silently, though my pulse betrayed me. The bond is a distraction. Nothing more.

Liar.

My steps slowed as I saw her. She stood just beyond the edge of the garden, where the lantern light melted into silver moonlight. The breeze tugged gently at her hair. She didn’t notice me at first — her hands were folded before her, her gaze distant. For a moment, I allowed myself to look. Really look.

Her every movement was quiet grace, but it was the uncertainty in her expression that struck me hardest. She was fighting it — fighting us.

I stepped forward, and her head snapped up.

“Alpha Lucian,” she said softly, her voice smooth but wary.

“Myra.” Her name felt heavier than I intended. I forced my tone steady. “You should be inside. It’s late.”

She hesitated. “I needed some air.”

A faint smile tugged at my lips — humorless, sharp. “You and I seem to share that habit.”

Silence stretched between us, thick and charged. I could hear her heartbeat — quick, uneven. The scent of her grew stronger, wrapping around me until control felt like a fragile thread.

“Why do you look at me that way?” she asked suddenly, voice trembling just enough to stir Ragnar’s attention.

I met her gaze, unblinking. “Because you make it impossible not to.”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. The moonlight danced across her skin, and for one reckless second, I let my eyes wander — from her eyes, to the curve of her lips, to the silver shimmer of her neckline, her cleavages before I forced myself to look away. My pulse thudded in my ears. I wondered how soft her breasts would feel and how sweet those lips of hers would taste. Damn I was loosing my mind already.

She took a step back. “You should stop.”

“Should I?” I asked quietly. “Tell me, Myra — do you really believe either of us can?”

She shook her head, frustration flashing in her eyes. “I don’t want this,” she said. “I don’t want a bond deciding my life.”

Something inside me snapped. I took a step closer, the edge of my restraint sharpening to a blade.

“You think I chose this?” I said, my voice low, steady, dangerous. “You think I wanted to find a mate when the world expects me to be nothing but a weapon?”

Her breath hitched. Ragnar pushed at my control, his growl rising. For a heartbeat, my vision flickered — gold bleeding into the blue.

“Lucian,” she whispered.

Ragnar’s voice thundered in my mind. Claim her. End this torment.

I clenched my fists so hard my knuckles ached. “Go inside,” I said finally, forcing the words through gritted teeth. “Before I forget who I’m supposed to be.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move. I turned before I could change my mind and walked away, each step heavier than the last.

Behind me, the wind carried her scent — jasmine and pine — and Ragnar’s growl simmered into a low, mocking hum.

You can walk away from her now, Lucian, he said. But you’ll never escape what’s already in your blood.

I didn’t answer. Because he was right.

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