Blood of Immortals | Chapter 6

Chapter 6 

The following morning, Luna gathered the pack to discuss the upcoming Feast of the Moon Goddess. She made it clear—everything had to be flawless because the Royal Seers were gracing us with their oh-so-holy presence. No pressure, right? My job? Prepping the temple and making sure all the ceremonial tools were accounted for. Easy enough, except for the part where everything had to be perfect.

After the meeting, I spotted Ruse by the doorway.

“Ruse!” I called, weaving through the crowd toward her. Normally, she’d beam and wave me over, but today? She gave me a death glare and stormed off.

Charming. What’s her deal?

I shook it off. Prepping for the feast sounded like a great way to distract myself from certain… other issues. Issues with golden hair, piercing eyes, and a kiss that had flipped my world upside down.

Heading to the market, I turned a corner and froze. Alaric was there, standing like some Greek god sent to ruin my day. My heart wasn’t ready for this. Not today. Without thinking, I ducked into a narrow alley to avoid him. Genius move, except it was a dead end.

I turned back, only to find Martina blocking the exit, looking smug.

“Martina,” I said, forcing a polite tone.

“Oh, hi there, flirt,” she sneered, sauntering toward me.

“What’s your problem?” I asked, calculating how quickly I could dodge past her.

“My problem?” That’s when I saw it. The silver knife in her hand.

Oh, great. She wasn’t here to trade insults; she was here to kill me.

“You’re my problem!” Martina snapped. “I saw you last night. How dare you seduce Alaric? You’re just an omega!”

“O-okay,” I said, raising my hands. “Let’s talk about this. Nicely. You know, like civilized wolves… minus the knife.”

“No!” She lunged closer, her face twisted with fury. “Today, I end your pathetic life.”

I froze. My legs refused to move. This was it. Game over.

Before I could process my impending doom, Alaric appeared like a thunderstorm. He grabbed the blade with his bare hand, stopping it inches from my chest. Blood dripped from his palm, but he didn’t flinch.

My heart twisted. How could I ever stop loving him?

“Oh, Alaric! I’m so sorry!” Martina stammered, dropping the knife like it had burned her. “I didn’t know…”

“Shut. It.” Alaric’s voice was a low growl, his eyes glowing gold. His wolf was in control now, and it was terrifying.

Martina’s bravado crumbled. She trembled, taking a shaky step back. But Alaric was faster. He grabbed her throat, lifting her effortlessly. She clawed at his arm, choking out desperate pleas.

“Alaric! Stop!” I shouted, wrapping my arms around him. “Please! Don’t do this.”

For a moment, I thought I’d lost him to his wolf. But then, his grip loosened, and Martina crumpled to the ground. She scrambled to her feet and bolted without looking back.

Alaric turned to me, his eyes softening as he scanned me for injuries. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” I said, though my voice wavered.

“I’m not,” he muttered, pulling me into a fierce embrace. His blood smeared on my clothes, but I didn’t care. He buried his face in my hair, breathing me in like I was his lifeline.

“Don’t do this again,” he murmured after a long silence. “Don’t put yourself in danger just to avoid me.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you!” I lied, my cheeks heating.

“Really?” He arched a brow, clearly unconvinced.

“Let’s get your hand to the healer,” I said, changing the subject.

“No,” he replied firmly. “We’re talking about this first.”

“Fine,” I huffed. “I wasn’t ready to face you, okay? I felt… insulted.”

“Because of the kiss?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry. “Didn’t you like it?”

“It’s not about that,” I snapped. “You have a mate out there, waiting for you to fulfill your destiny!”

His expression shifted, like he’d just solved a puzzle. “I see.”

“See what?” I demanded, annoyed by his cryptic tone.

He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “You’re jealous.”

“What? No way!”

“Yes way.” He smirked. “You like me.”

“You’re delusional!” I shot back.

“Oh, I know, because I feel the same about you.”

The air between us grew heavy.

“You like me?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“No.” My heart sank. “I love you.”

“You’re the destined demon,” I muttered, more to myself than to him.

He hesitated, then said, “I might not be.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

“I wasn’t the only demon born that day.”

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