Chapter 8-Sten #2
“She died when I was thirteen.”
Something inside me went very still.
Amrin inhaled shakily before continuing.
“The entire Coven came for the funeral. Hundreds of people.” Her expression grew distant. “No one was paying attention to us kids.”
Us kids.
She must have meant her sisters. Cousins too, maybe.
And the implication made my stomach tighten instantly.
“They cornered me in the cemetery,” she whispered.
Rage bloomed sharp and immediate.
“They teased me constantly back then. My weight. My lack of magic. Everything.” Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor now.
“Fuck,” I growled instantly.
Her gaze flicked upward.
“I think… maybe they were embarrassed by me.”
“No, Luna. They were cruel. Embarrassment is no excuse for cruelty, even if they had a right to feel that way—which they didn’t.”
Something fragile moved across her expression then.
Like she didn’t know what to do with someone defending her.
Gods.
Who had taught her she deserved mistreatment?
“They chased me,” she continued quietly. “I ran into one of the old family mausoleums trying to hide.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“And then?”
Her breathing grew shallow, ever so slightly.
“They blocked the door.”
White-hot fury exploded through me instantly.
An image of my Luna trapped in a mausoleum with no way out flashed in my mind.
“They trapped you?”
She nodded.
“There was a nest of moths inside.” Her voice shook now. “Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. I must have startled them.”
Fuck.
I moved before thinking.
One hand landed gently above her knee.
Warm.
Soft.
Mine.
Heat surged violently through my body at the contact.
Not lust.
Not entirely.
Something deeper.
Protective.
Possessive.
Primal.
“They swarmed me,” she whispered. “I couldn’t breathe. Their wings kept touching my skin and face and hair…” Her voice cracked. “I screamed until my throat hurt. But I had to stop, I had to spit them out when they flew inside my mouth.”
My vision flashed white.
Not red.
White.
Pure rage.
“How long?” I asked softly.
“What?”
“How long did they leave you there?”
Her eyes shimmered.
“They-they didn’t come back.” Barely audible now. “I was in there all night. A search party found me the next afternoon. And when they got me out—I was so frightened I didn’t speak for a week.”
One tear slid silently down her cheek.
And something inside me snapped.
Not anger.
Not fury.
Something far worse.
Because anyone who could hurt her like that—anyone who could make this sweet, soft creature feel that kind of terror—deserved to suffer for it.
Violently.
I’d never really let myself indulge in rage before.
Not fully.
Not honestly.
Because males like me did not have the luxury of emotional recklessness.
Every feeling I experienced carried consequence.
Anger could become gravitational collapse.
Fear could distort ley lines.
Grief—grief had once cracked three lunar mirrors in Asgard and nearly swallowed an entire observatory wing into shadow.
So I learned restraint early.
Control.
Containment.
But this?
This was different.
What I felt sitting beside Amrin on the floor of my quarters was not wild fury.
It was focused.
Precise.
Cold enough to cut worlds apart.
The image of thirteen-year-old Luna trapped inside a dark mausoleum while moths swarmed her soft little body burned through me with horrifying clarity.
Crying.
Alone.
Terrified while her sisters laughed outside.
My vision flashed white again.
Not red.
White was worse.
White meant my power was listening.
White meant the moon itself was responding.
And somewhere in the back of my mind—a place I would revisit much later when I understood the enormity of it—I realized something deeply unsettling:
For the first time in years, my emotions had not destabilized my magic.
They had sharpened it.
Centered it.
Like my fury had found orbit around her.
Amrin shifted beside me, straightening slightly, her earlier softness retreating behind embarrassment.
I hated that instantly.
Hated the way she folded inward after vulnerability, like she expected rejection to follow honesty.
Like she’d learned sharing herself came with punishment.
No.
Not with me.
Never with me.
Finally, she looked at me.
Gods.
Those eyes.
Pale and luminous beneath the dim lights of my quarters, so painfully open and earnest it nearly stole the breath from my lungs.
There was nothing manipulative in them.
Nothing hidden.
Just truth.
Soft, devastating truth.
I felt myself go still beneath that stare.
Hypnotized.
Undone.
Then she opened those pretty pink lips and quietly said, “Anyway… that’s why I’m afraid of moths.”
Something inside me snapped.
Not violently.
Not chaotically.
Worse.
Something ancient and possessive simply gave way.
Like a dam finally breaking under the pressure of so much water.
Because right then all I could think was the one word I should’ve been running from.
Mine.
Amrin was mine.
Mine to protect.
Mine to comfort.
Mine to keep safe from every cruel thing this world had ever done to her.
I reached for her before logic could stop me.
Before fear could remind me she deserved better than someone like me.
My hands closed around her waist.
Warm.
Soft.
Real.
The contact detonated through my nervous system instantly.
Gods.
Every inch of exposed skin where we touched lit up like ley lines beneath a storm.
I closed my eyes briefly against the sheer force of it.
This female was dangerous.
Not because she weakened me.
Because she made me want things I’d long ago buried.
Hope.
Connection.
Belonging.
“You never have to be afraid again, Luna,” I growled.
The promise came from somewhere deep.
Primal.
Absolute.
Then I pulled her into me.
Amrin gasped softly as her body collided with mine, small hands catching against my shoulders for balance.
She didn’t push away.
That realization alone nearly wrecked me.
Instead, her fingers tightened instinctively in the fabric of my hoodie while my tail curled automatically around her waist, pulling her flush against my chest exactly where I wanted her.
Where I needed her.
Her body fit there too perfectly.
Soft curves against hard muscle.
Warmth against years of cold isolation.
Fuck.
I lowered my head slowly, giving her every opportunity to stop me.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
Nervous.
Breathless.
But not afraid.
Never afraid.
“I’m kissing you, Luna,” I said roughly. “After that confession, I think we both need it.”
And maybe I should have stopped there.
Maybe I should have remembered every reason this was dangerous.
Maybe I should have remembered I was unstable.
That I carried celestial power capable of destroying realms when unchecked.
Maybe I should have remembered that wanting someone this much could ruin a male like me.
But then she looked at my mouth.
Just for a second.
And I was lost.
Completely.
I kissed her.
Hard.
The moment our mouths touched, every coherent thought in my head vanished like smoke swallowed by lunar tide.
She made the softest sound against my lips.
Gods.
I deepened the kiss instinctively, one hand sliding upward into her hair while the other held her firmly against my body.
Warm.
Sweet.
She tasted warm and sweet and entirely too addictive.
And when her lips parted beneath mine—fuck.
The low growl that tore from my chest barely sounded human.
My control snapped thread by thread.
Every instinct I possessed surged forward violently.
Protect her.
Claim her.
Keep her.
Mine.
The word echoed through my skull with terrifying force.
Not desire.
Not fantasy.
Recognition.
Ancient.
Final.
Mate.