Page 3 of A Reign of Malice (Wolves of Lunara #3)

The pull guides me, tugging at something instinctual, and I follow it eagerly. My bare feet move soundlessly across the cool floors as I race through the halls, urgency thrumming through my veins. I let my wolf help, her instincts sharper than my own, her focus unshakable.

At first, I think she’s leading me to Aeson’s chambers, but as our path twists and turns, doubt creeps in. We’re heading downstairs now. Maybe he’s in his office.

But as I turn left instead of right, something shifts. The tug doesn’t waver, but a faint nervousness trickles down my spine.

Where are we going?

We circle the first floor, but each path we take leads us back to the base of the stairs.

It’s okay, I tell my wolf silently, trying to soothe her discomfort. I’ll find him.

She whimpers, her despondency tugging at the edges of my resolve. I don’t understand her reaction. It feels so unlike her usual strength, but the dream lingers, a haze in my thoughts and a need in my chest I can’t shake, no matter how confused she might feel.

I sigh, turning back toward the stairs, only to stop short when Aeson appears at the landing. He’s already dressed for the day in black slacks and a matching shirt left unbuttoned at the collar.

“Sloane?” he says, tilting his head as he studies me.

For a brief moment, I expect strands of his hair to fall forward like they did in the dream. But his hair is slicked back, neat and controlled. Everything about him is polished and deliberate.

Still, concern softens his sharp features as he steps toward me. “Are you okay?”

I grab his hand, the movement almost impulsive. “Let’s go to your office.”

His gaze flickers to my bare feet. “You’re not wearing any shoes.”

A dry chuckle escapes me, though the sound is far from steady. Of all the things to notice, that’s what catches his attention? I don’t bother responding. Instead, I reach for the handle of his office door, only to find it locked.

Keys jingle in his hand as he moves around me. “Allow me,” he says smoothly, slipping a skeleton key into the lock.

The door opens effortlessly, and Aeson gestures for me to enter first. I don’t hesitate, stepping inside as my gaze sweeps the room.

The industrial design doesn’t surprise me—the metal fixtures and sleek desk suit his personality.

But what does shock me is the photograph sitting prominently on his desk.

It’s me.

A candid shot from the day I arrived in Venaris.

I’m not even looking at the camera, my smile soft and unguarded as I turn toward something just out of frame.

The intricate crown atop my head catches the sunlight, the polished metal glinting against the dark waves of my hair.

The blue dress I wore that day makes my eyes appear brighter than usual, almost luminous.

All this time, I’ve been building this situation up, too afraid of the unknown and what I stood to lose. Because of that, I’ve failed to see the moments of calm and trust that, no matter what happens, everything is going to be okay .

I’ve been searching for a solution, and it’s been right here the whole time. I just didn’t want to believe it was the right one.

Aeson .

“Sloane?” His voice pulls me back to the present. He’s watching me with a mix of confusion and curiosity, his brow slightly furrowed. I must seem so strange to him, wandering the halls barefoot before dawn, my emotions written plainly across my face.

I turn to him, offering a small smile, one I hope conveys the clarity I’ve found. “I want to sign the treaty.”

His head tilts slightly, his expression unreadable. “You don’t have to rush into anything, Sloane. I’ll help your people regardless. I’m not trying to?—”

“This offer’s been on the table for months,” I interrupt gently. “I’m not rushing into anything. I know what’s in my heart, and this is the best solution for all of us.”

For a moment, a crease forms between his brows, but it disappears so quickly I might’ve imagined it. Then his lips curve into a broad grin, and he reaches for a stack of papers on his desk. “Then let’s make this official.”

He shuffles through the documents until he finds the treaty and slides it toward me along with a pen.

My fingers close around it without hesitation, and I begin signing, my initials marking the bottom of each page.

This is it. The questions, the doubts, they have to end here.

That dream showed me what I needed to see.

Being Aeson’s mate doesn’t have to be a death sentence just because we aren’t typical mates.

He’s kind, eager to help, and no matter his reasons, he’s capable of doing things for my people when I’m not.

Finally, I scrawl my signature across the last page. When I look up, Aeson is grinning .

“Now we can plan our mating ceremony,” he says, his voice laced with satisfaction.

Before I can respond, my wolf howls within my mind. The sound is raw and sorrowful, a piercing ache that sends a chill down my spine.

My stomach twists, dread coiling low in my gut.

What have I done?