Luna's Odyssey

Chapter 4: The Alpha's Visit

Dahlia's POV

The grand dining hall glowed under the candlelight, every flicker dancing across the polished stone like liquid gold. Laughter and murmured conversations filled the air, but all I could hear was the frantic rhythm of my own heartbeat.

The servants rushed about, and I moved among them, careful, invisible, until the heavy doors creaked open.

Silence rippled through the air.

A stranger stepping, tall, composed, and carrying an aura that made the room feel smaller. I didn't know who he was, but the way everyone bowed told me enough.

He was an Alpha. Probably the Alpha everyone was talking about.

His presence swallowed the noises, the air, and even the very light itself. His gaze swept around the room once, calculated, and commanding, before settling at the head of the long table.

Once he was settled in, the ceremony began and everywhere went back to being lively.

The feast was already in full swing when I began making my rounds, serving one table after another. The air was thick with roasted meat, spiced wine and chatter.

“More bread,” the Luna called.

“Yes, Luna,” I murmured, refilling her plate without daring to lift my gaze.

I moved quickly, keeping my head bowed, the weight of every glance pressing on me. The nobles laughed, their jewelry catching the candlelight, a sharp contrast to my plain sleeves.

Then, as I turn toward the head table, a hush rippled through the hall again.

The stranger had already dog into the meal on the table, and was now requesting for a drink.

“Bring me a bottle of Velmoré Reserve ’89,” his deep voice cut through the murmurs.

My pulse stumbled. It was my turn to serve him next.

I bowed quickly, and left. The room stirred with quiet surprise. That wine was rarely ordered. It was too costly, too precious for ordinary feasts.

“Remember,” the voice came from behind, dripping with mock sweetness.

I didn’t need to turn to know who it was, but I did anyway. Katherine stood there, her lips curved into that familiar smirk that always managed to crawl under my skin.

Her gaze slid over me, slow and deliberate, before she leaned in. “He hates weakness,” she whispered, the words brushing against my ear like venom. “So even if you’re thinking of throwing yourself at him, don’t bother. He might notice you, I mean, who wouldn’t notice something so... pitiful?” Her eyes gleamed, satisfied with the sting she left behind. “He wouldn't fall for a cheap mutt like you. Don’t mistake pity for affection, mutt.”

Before I could think of a response, she turned on her heel, her laughter echoing down the corridor.

My throat felt tight, but I swallowed hard, forcing my trembling hands still. The air suddenly felt heavier.

“Hurry up,” the chief maid’s sharp tone cut through the silence, snapping me back to the present. “You wouldn’t want to keep the Alpha waiting.”

No, I wouldn’t.

I forced my legs to move, picking up the wine with care, as I made sure my grip didn’t betray the shaking inside me. The scent of the aged liquid filled my nose as I poured it into a glass, steady, and precise.

When I approached the Alpha’s table, I bowed slightly and placed the glass before him.

Our fingers brushed.

A sharp jolt raced through me, brief but unmistakable, like static crackling in the air between us, everything else faded, the laughter, the candles, even the music. I drew my hand back quickly, my heart fluttered as if afraid he might have felt it too.

I almost dropped the tray. His eyes flicked up, meeting mine for the first time.

Something in that look rooted me to the spot, it was unfamiliar, searching, and unsettling.

I caught a quick look of shock on his face. Then his lips parted, and the faintest crease formed between his brows.

“Who are you?” he asked quietly and with that, my throat went dry.

“Dah… Dahlia, sir,” I swallowed hard, my voice faltering and catching in jagged little bursts.

He didn’t lift his eyes from the plate, only a slow, deliberate hum slipping past his lips as the fork rose and fell again.

I stepped back quickly, pretending nothing had happened, but my heart wouldn’t stop racing.

From the corner of my eye, I saw him still watching me.

And though I didn’t look up, I could feel it, his gaze following me long after I walked away.

I turned back to look at him, his eyes snapped up, widening in disbelief. A sudden, sharp pull gripped his chest, like something invisible had clutched him, my heartbeat, my scent, my very being. The world around us seemed to blur, and in that instant, I felt it too, a tug, warm and undeniable, threading through my own chest straight to him.

Hope flickered in me, bright and trembling. He… he could feel it too.

His pupils dilated, his jaw tightening. A flicker of horror crossed his face, quick and fleeting, yet impossible to miss. His hand trembled slightly as it held the fork, though he didn’t lower it. The food in front of him, once enticing, now seemed irrelevant. His focus was all on me. The hum of the hall, the chatter, the clinking of glasses, all of it seemed to vanish.

The hum of the hall, the chatter, and the clinking of glasses, and the reality of the hall came crashing down.

Without a word, he shoved his chair back. It scraped loudly against the floor, cutting through my rising panic. And then he was gone, his strides sharp and hurried, leaving only the echo of his abrupt departure, and the impossible, aching pull that now tied us together.