The Luna of Four: Marked by Four

Chapter2

Lyra’s POV

The Alpha doesn’t touch me. He doesn’t have to, because I feel him all over me. His eyes haven’t changed colors and I feel like I am going to combust. I can’t tell which heat is causing it. The one from my birthmark or his eyes?

He doesn’t stop looking, as if wondering how possible something is.

I should be used to that look already. I have always gotten it. The later bloomer. The weird one. Yet, there is something different about his.

“Bring a cloak,” he orders without breaking eye contact. “And clear the east trail. If those hunters, wherever the f**k they are from, cross again, I want to know before they blink.”

“On it.” Dorian is already moving, his feet scraping against the dry grass. But before he disappears, he pauses and looks back at me. There is that look again in his eyes. It is bold and fierce, with a tinge of confusion.

“Can she understand me?”

“Yes.” The Alpha meets my eyes. “She can.”

I hate the fact that he knows even without a conversation with me. But what I hate more is the thrill that wraps its hands around me as a result. My shoulders can no longer hold me up and I wobble and fall to the ground.

It still hurts from where the wolfsbane grazed, and if it is not taken care of, it will spread through my body and lead to my death. So much for someone who did not shift on time.

Jokes on me for thinking I will be immune to wolfsbane.

The Alpha moves slowly, stopping in front of me. His hands over in the air, but he doesn’t touch me.

At least, not yet.

A whine escapes my lips before I can stop it. Gosh, I feel so needy that it is the only thing I can think of.

“s**t back,” he murmurs, his tone more gentle than he actually looks. “You have to.”

“You think I wouldn’t if I could?” I snap, or at least that is what it sounds like in my head. And he must have been hearing my frustrated groans all along as something in his face eases. The ghost of a smile splays on his lips, but never actually breaks free.

“It will come,” he mutters. “Give it time.”

And then, he takes off his shirt and tosses it near my paw. “For when you shift.”

The edge of the woods shake again and Dorian returns with a cloak. “The perimeter is quiet. For now.”

His eyes meet mine again. “What are you going to do with her?” The question doesn’t sound borne out of curiosity. I might be going crazy or something, but it feels like a possessive statement and I feel it in my bones.

That tug.

That pull.

The desire to close the space between us. But that should be impossible. The first one…the Alpha, he already claimed me as his mate.

“Keep her alive,” the Alpha mutters, like it is the most obvious answer in the world. He regards me instinctively. “I am Killian Thorn, the Alpha of Bloodridge. What is your name?”

I toy with the idea of not telling him. Of not telling them. I don’t know if they are working with the people the hunters called Court. I don’t know why they want me so desperately, and if this is just another ploy to get me into their net.

Yet, for some damn reason, I say in my head, without moving my lips. “Lyra.”

Killian understands. Somehow. He nods. “Lyra.” My name rolls of his tongue like a line of prayer, like the hidden part of a prophecy and I fight the urge to just close my eyes and let go.

“You are shaking,” he says. “We are done staying out here. We need to move.”

He turns around and my body moves in sync with his, pulling myself off the ground. Dorian falls into step behind us and soon, the path clears into a habitat, light shining through and covering the grounds.

I take in the cabins tucked under trees, and the steady smoke rising out from chimneys scatters across the space. And then, there are the much better constructed houses, with great walls and rocking chairs out on the porch.

Even though I cannot see him, I feel wolves watching us from the shadows. They are not exactly welcoming, but their curiosity reaches me.

Killian doesn’t stop until we get to a huge building located at the end of the road. It is made with stone, its ancient hands spreading through me. But he doesn’t stop there. Instead, he takes a turn I didn’t see before, pushing a door open when we reach a much smaller building.

“Guest house,” he murmurs, nudging towards the inside. “There is a bed, fire and hot water. You can stay here until its morning.”

“No,” I say in my head, wondering when I would be able to shift back so I can communicate properly.

But like always, he hears me.

“Yes.” His eyes leave no room for argument.

I move inside, falling by the rug in front of the hearth. My bones c***k again and relief washes through me when my naked skin falls touches the ground, partially covered with his coat.

Killian turns his back like a gentleman. If the situation was different, I just might have burst out laughing. We must have lost Dorian somewhere along the way, because only now does he stride in, placing the cloak gingerly on the bed.

A steaming mug gets handed over to me.

“What is it?”

“Stop asking questions and drink.”

I bring it to my lips, just as he walks out the door with Dorian.

“Where are you going?” I ask, panic coursing through me. I get up without thinking and the coat falls from my body. Killian’s eyes widen and then darkens in quick succession. I notice that Dorian does the same.

In one breath, I pick it off the floor, but Dorian has already disappeared by the time I look up and Killian is ready to shut the door.

“Dorian will be here all night,” he says. “Just by the door. In case the hunters return.”

I swallow. “You don’t have to protect me.”

“You are right.”

“I don’t belong to you.”

“I never said you did.”

Then why does that feel like a lie?

Killian closes the door softly. I hear the lock click in place. I can make out footsteps outside.

Dorian.

But just then, a shadow slides under the door and a note gets pushes into the room. Frowning, I pick it up and read.

One word, written in a looping handwriting.

Nightborn.

Before I can stand, I hear my name, somewhere outside the room, by the window.

“Lyra.”