Luna's Moon

Chapter Twelve

Thirty minutes later, there was a soft knock—followed by the unmistakable presence of him stepping into the room.

Aurelian.

He was holding… another sandwich.

A fresh one.

I didn’t even pretend to play it cool. I went straight for it.

One bite in and I had to physically restrain a moan. Ugh. How was he this good at making sandwiches? Was it a werewolf thing? Enhanced senses made for better seasoning? I didn’t know and I didn’t care.

I expected him to leave, maybe say something vague and brooding and let me stew in peace.

But no.

He waited.

Waited until I finished every last crumb, then casually produced a glass of orange juice from seemingly nowhere. Like some sandwich-and-juice conjuring magician. I drank it down in one go—cold, sweet, ridiculously refreshing.

And then—just as I was licking a crumb off my thumb—he spoke.

“I’m usually not very blunt,” he started.

I gave him a look. I doubt that. The man had basically proposed inappropriate acts on a private jet earlier today with the emotional subtlety of a brick.

“But,” he continued, his voice steady, “I think you might be my mate.”

And there it was.

I stared at him, wide-eyed. The last bite of his sandwich now sitting comfortably in my very betrayed stomach.

I had scarfed down his bribe way too quickly.

And enjoyed it way too much.

“Mr. Moon…” I started, trying to keep my voice calm.

“Aurelian,” he corrected smoothly.

“I’m your assistant,” I said, again, for what felt like the hundredth time. Why did I keep repeating it like a mantra, like it would suddenly remind him of boundaries?

But the brute of a man just looked at me like it meant nothing.

“Besides, mates don’t exist. That whole thing vanished ages ago—unless you’re telling me Mrs. Vancouver, who taught me supernatural history, was wrong. She’s a professor. A very published one.”

“I know all that,” he said, folding his arms. “I don’t understand this either. But it’s the most plausible explanation right now.”

“I’m not your mate,” I snapped. “That’s... absurd! Give me your schedule. We need to plan your calls and—”

“Those are done already,” he said, casually. “I only came here for a meeting with the Prime Minister.”

“You said it was a conference!” I practically shrieked.

He shrugged.

He shrugged.

The actual fudging nerve.

“Then what am I doing here?” I threw my hands up, exasperated.

“I need you close,” he said simply. “I need to understand this feeling.”

“This is... this is kidnapping,” I declared, voice rising.

“You walked in here on your own,” he replied with a smirk that made me want to throw the glass of orange juice at his head.

“I was manipulated,” I hissed.

“I couldn’t leave you and come all the way to another country,” he said quietly, as if that explained everything. “The thought of that distance between us… it disturbs me.”

There was something in the way he said it—not dramatic, not pleading. Just… truth. Flat and heavy.

“It’s possible I’m feeling it more than you,” he added, a little softer, “given your peculiarity.”

Peculiarity. He meant me being human.

I swallowed hard. “Is this even possible?” I whispered, hands finding their way to my hips in frustration—or maybe just trying to ground myself before I floated off into this fever dream. Mates divinely chosen by the moon goddess was always between werewolves. this simply can't be.

He stepped closer, and suddenly the air shifted—thick with heat, tension, something else I didn’t dare name. My skin tingled in anticipation.

He reached out, slow and deliberate, and ran a single finger down my arm.

Chills exploded across my skin.

“The signs are there,” he murmured, gaze locked on mine.

And for one terrifying, electrifying second—I felt it too.

That pull. Who am I kidding?, I've been feeling it.

That inexplicable something that didn’t feel like fantasy anymore.

“Maybe you do feel it too…” he said softly, almost like he was marveling at the idea out loud.

I blinked, realizing suddenly how close we were—how I was leaning in without even noticing. My breath hitched, and before I could step back, his voice came again, lower, rougher, like a secret slipping from his soul.

“Regina mea.”

I froze.

“What…?” I whispered, heart pounding.

“I’ll leave you to rest then,” he said, And just like that, he turned away—releasing me from whatever spell he had wrapped me in. The moment broke, and I could finally breathe again.

I closed the door behind him, exhaled shakily, then turned and collapsed onto the bed for the second time that day.

Only this time, I was thinking about the way Regina mea echoed in my bones.

My bare feet padded into the kitchen quietly, the clock reading past one. Yes, I was sneaking into the kitchen at midnight to get something to eat. Bite me, a girl's gotta eat. And I didn't come out during the day like a normal human being because I was too much of a coward to face Aurelian—or even worse… Racheal again.

I opened the fridge carefully, like it might scream if I pulled too hard. A soft glow lit up the room, casting shadows across the sleek countertops. Sandwich fixings. Jackpot.

As I reached for the bread, I heard it.

A soft thump. Then another.

My entire body stilled. I peeked over the fridge door like a criminal caught mid-heist.

There he was. Aurelian. Leaning against the doorway like some Greek tragedy in sweatpants and a T-shirt, arms crossed, golden eyes practically glowing in the low light. I have a feeling he allowed me to hear him close by as crazy as that sounds.

“You’re terrible at sneaking,” he said, voice thick with sleep and something else—amusement.

I clutched the bread bag like a weapon. “You’re terrible at stalking people in the dark.”. It was a cheap comeback, He's a predator. The top of the food chain, he was not terrible at stalking if he wanted to stalk.

"You should eat something of more sustenance, let me." He said, reaching for the bread and setting it aside with a firm motion.

I blinked, my fingers still hovering over the ham. "Are you saying I eat too much?" I couldn't hide the playful edge in my voice.

He glanced at me, his expression completely unreadable, then smirked. "No. A good, healthy appetite is adequate."

Before I could protest, he turned on the stove, the soft hum of the burner filling the quiet. Wait, was he… about to cook for me?

I leaned back against the counter, watching him in disbelief. "Are you seriously making me dinner right now?" I asked, crossing my arms in front of me. The mere idea of it felt absurd—Aurelian Moon, the powerful alpha, here, cooking in a kitchen.

He didn’t look up as he moved around, grabbing ingredients, a fluid motion that made the space seem smaller, as if he took up every inch of it. “Yes” he replied nonchalantly. Swoon

I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Instead, I watched as he worked with calm precision, the man who could crush someone with a single command, now cooking eggs like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"I have questions," I announced, grateful he wasn't calling me out on the sneaking.

He didn’t reply immediately. I thought for a moment that he hadn’t heard, but that was impossible. This man hears my heartbeat embarrassingly clearly—he could probably hear me think if he wanted to. But he couldn't right?. Right?

Aurelian placed a plate in front of me, and I froze. It was a beautifully cooked plate of scrambled eggs, sautéed spinach, and crispy bacon, all laid out perfectly on the plate. The smell hit me instantly—rich, warm, and irresistible.

"You only get two," he said, his voice low and almost amused as he set the plate down before me.

"What? Why?" I asked, my mouth watering at the sight in front of me. It was a perfect breakfast, and I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until now.

He gave me a side glance. "You need to eat and go back to sleep. No more midnight snacking."

I scoffed but didn’t argue, immediately scooping up a forkful of eggs. Damn it, this was good. How does he even—?

"But I have questions," I repeated, voice muffled by a bite of eggs.

He leaned against the counter, arms folded, muscles bulging a little, as he watched me with a faint smile. "I’m su