Moon God Mates 3

Milas POV: Every time I close my eyes, I imagine myself somewhere else, somewhere closer to him. I can still feel the warmth in his smile, his flawless carelessness. My bedroom door opens and shuts, but I don't bother looking up. "Here." A brown paper bag drops onto the purple comforter I'm currently hiding under. I catch a whiff of its contents before throwing the comforter off of me. "What took you so long?" I reach for the bag, pulling out the blueberry scone from my favorite spot, Café Mond. "You're welcome?" my brother teases, attempting to grab the bread from my hand. I quickly pull it away and inhale its scent, longing for the happiness it used to bring me as a child—back when life was simpler. I sniff again, waiting for the sweet sugary pull, but it never comes. "Thank you." I slump, feeling empty. "I'm sorry, I just don't understand why I couldn't go with you. I can't stay locked up in this castle, I'm going crazy, Ezekiel." "Emilia, you almost died! When you got home, we didn’t think you were going to make it. None of the pack doctors could figure out what was wrong with you. Then last week, out of the blue, you're better? It doesn’t make sense.” I can see the worry in my brother’s brown eyes, and I hate myself for it. “Until it does, you need to rest. There's no telling if it’ll come back or not." He sits in the chair beside my bed before running his fingers through my hair. I sigh, feeling like crap for lying to my brother. Ezekiel has always been my best friend. He’s a year younger than me, and besides our pale color, we look nothing alike. He has brown eyes; I have blue. He has caramel hair; I have blonde. Yet somehow, it’s obvious we’re related. If not for the happiness that died in our eyes years ago, then for our stance, our height, the way we carry ourselves. We walk like royalty. We share this damned royal life together—and maybe that’s why we’re so close. Because when all else fails, at least we fail together. But how could I tell him the truth? I almost died because I left my destined mate in another country and lost my wolf in the process. The weight of my decisions crashes down on me, and I’m engulfed in a wave of self-loathing, the same overwhelming feeling I’ve been stuck in for months. I despise myself for abandoning him, for succumbing to the pressures of this suffocating life I was born into. “Hey.” Ezekiel sits beside me on the bed, wrapping his arm around me trying to soothe me. “We’re going to be okay. I told you, E, I’m going to protect you. We protect each other. No matter what it is—tell me.” His eyes are pleading. “You can tell me anything.” His voice has dropped to a whisper, and I can see the truth in his eyes. He would die for me. And I for him. I almost tell him, but my lips clamp shut, and I don’t. This is my burden to carry, not his. Ezekiel has so much weighing on his shoulders already—I refuse to burden him more. I meet his eyes—my blue to his brown—you’d never know his real heart. He carries himself like a prince should, head held high on his unwavering six-two frame. But I know the real him. I can’t catch a glimpse of happiness in his eyes. It’s been taken away by duties he never wanted, and a love he could never have. Because if my brother, even as the next-in-line king, loved who he wanted, he would doom this whole kingdom before they skinned him alive. Our eyes are still locked as I run a hand atop his short waves. “They’ve taken everything from us, haven’t they, Mila?” His voice is a soft, comforting hue, and I can’t stop the tears that fall as I bury my face into his chest. Because I’m a coward. Because for the first time, I feel as though this life that’s planned for me is the only thing I deserve for what I did to the happiest man I’ve ever met. And because in a few weeks, the assembly starts. I cry into my brother’s shirt until it’s soaked. My tears dry, but I’m still breathing hard when Ezekiel tucks me back into bed and makes himself comfortable on the chair at my side. I somehow fall asleep between sobs, and when I wake, he’s still there, watching me. His eyes hooded in the dim-lit room. “Sometimes,” he whispers, “I thank the Moon God for taking Willow.” Ez is looking out the window, the moonlight casting a glow on his face. “I can still see the shame in Father’s eyes when he looks at me—the only choice he’s left with. I thank her, Mila, for our brother’s death. For taking what Father has always wanted away from him.” He scoffs, then it goes quiet for a time before his eyes finally meet mine. “Macht mich das zu einem schrecklichen Menschen?” “Nein.” I answer truthfully because it doesn’t make him a terrible person. And if it does, I’m a terrible person too. Our eldest brother Willow was the spitting image of our father—not just in looks, but in his undetermined will to rule. He was exactly what the Embory pack wanted as a king: strong, traditional, obedient. Everything that Ez and I are not. Tears stream down again until exhaustion takes over, and the room grows dark. But in a strange way, I feel closer to Cole. I feel like I’m closer than I think. And that’s the only thing keeping me going.