The doors opened to reveal a car that wasn’t a car at all, it was a fortress wrapped in wheels.
The vehicle crouched in the driveway like some predatory beast, its surface drinking in the morning light until nothing reflected back. Pure black metal, smooth as obsidian, seamless in a way that made my eyes struggle to find edges or seams.
This was the third car that I had seen with him since. The first one I had torn through to get to Kustav and then second splintered during the bombing.
Vladimir’s hand found the small of my back as we approached, fingers spreading wide against the curve of my spine. The touch was light—barely there—but it might as well have been a brand. A chill bloomed under his palm, radiating outward until my entire body hummed with awareness.
Just once. A subtle shift of pressure, fingertips pressing deeper for half a heartbeat before returning to their careful restraint.
The jolt that shot through me was violent, electric, stealing my breath and nearly buckling my knees. My pulse hammered against my throat as I fought to keep walking, to pretend that simple touch hadn’t just rewritten every nerve ending in my body.
Did he know? Could he feel the way I trembled under his hand, the way my body betrayed me with each careful step?
His face remained a mask of cool indifference.
The car door opened with a whisper, revealing an interior that looked more like a private jet than any vehicle I’d ever seen. Leather the color of midnight, wood paneling that gleamed like liquid amber, and technology embedded so seamlessly it seemed to pulse with life.
This would have to impervious to a bomb.
"After you," he murmured, voice low and rough against my ear.
I stepped forward, his hand still guiding me, and slipped into the plush embrace of the seat. The door sealed shut behind us with a sound like a vault closing, and suddenly we were alone in this cocoon of luxury and barely contained tension.
The space between us felt charged, dangerous. And we hadn’t even begun to drive.
My body twtched under the weight of the tension, my legs choosing that exact time to crave an itch. But every movement felt like a sin, as I buzzed with nervous energy.
On the thirty minute mark since e started the journey, I gathered the courage to ask. "Where are we going?"
Without meeting my eyes, he replied., "The Lunar Sanctum. You will meet the seer and she will explain your role as the Marked Hybrid and what your journey to Ascension will look like.
I swallowed, dread dampening my palms. From to the Beta, to the other Alphas, the woman called Olya and the ladies in waiting, I had not seen a kind face. I had little hope for this meeting. "Why don’t you explain to me by yourself?"
"A seer will be more thorogh," He returned plainly.
I nodded, wringinf my hands on my lap, tapping my foot. The silence had returned, even becoming somewhat heavier. I bit my lip, eyes darting out the window.
A shadowing figure in the woods.
My heart stuttered to a stop.
I blinked and when I opened my eyes, it was gone. Like he had never been there.
I shook my head, brushing away the crawling eeriness that washed over me. My heart slammed against my ribs, knocking the air out of my lungs.
"The Order of The Black Moon," Vladimir’s voice pulled me back to the present, "Those responsible for the bombing."
My eyes darted to him. His eyes forward as he spoke. "They target marked hybrids."
My chest tightened, my words coming out strained. "Why?"
"It might be xenophobia, or something deeper." His jaw tightened, barely a crack in his composure. "They believe that hybrids corrrupt the natural order. That our bloodlines are to be pure."
The word pure dripped with disgust.
I shifted in my seat. "I am not the object of some prophecy, am I? I am one of many like me." I was not yet sure how to feel about it. Veronique had been the first to let it slip that I could be replaced in an instant when she was choking me.
My neck buzzed, itching.
"Yes, you are," he replied. "To some you are a bride between the two realms, Lycan and human because of your dual heritage but to others; an abomination." Thᴇ link to the origɪn of this information rᴇsts ɪn novel{f}ire.net
My stomached churned. The shadow in the woods flashed throght my mind again. It has been watching, waiting and it had disappeared before I could be sure it was real. "How many are like me out there?"
"More than many will think but only a few awakened their Lunar Crest or find their wolves. And even less see the second phrase of their ascension." His words fell between us like stone.
The coward in me wanted the topic changed. "About the Alpha Duel, is it to the death," I asked hastily.
His gaze flickered briefly to me, before going back to settle on the road ahead. "Yes,"
The itch intensified. I pressed my palm into my shaking knee trying to stop the tremors. Even though his gaze was on me, I could feel him still accessing me. It set my nerves on edge. My mouth moved again, needing to fill the silence again, else my mind travel to tattoos I had beneath my fingers tips. "So is there one for Lunas?"
He quirked a brow. "A Luna Duel?"
"Yes," I chuckled nervously. Anything to not sit in silence as his presence leaves me spiraling.
"Yes, it does exist. Though it’s been a long time since the last one was called—half a century, to be exact."
A nervous giggle bubbled up from my throat before I could stop it. The sound felt foreign in the heavy air between us, too light for the weight of everything we’d been discussing. "God, imagine someone challenges me because I’m supposed to be your wife and just... rips me to shreds because I can’t fight."
The absurdity of it hit me all at once—me, who could barely handle Veronique’s hands around my throat, facing some seasoned Luna warrior in combat. Another laugh escaped, higher pitched this time, edged with hysteria.
"I’d probably trip over my own feet before they even drew blood."
Vladimir’s knuckles whitened. Something dangerous flickered across his features, there and gone so quickly I might have imagined it.
"That won’t happen," he said, voice cutting through my nervous laughter like a blade.
The finality in his tone made my giggles die in my throat. I studied his profile, the rigid line of his jaw, the way his shoulders had gone taut beneath the perfect fit of his suit.
His eyes flicked to me briefly, and for a moment I saw something raw beneath the ice, something that looked almost like possessiveness. Or protection. Maybe both.
I turned away, just as we were driven into a compound.
"We are here," he announced, voice still still strained from the tension.