Page 37 of A Reign of Malice (Wolves of Lunara #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

JULIAN

B etween Sloane’s fierce loyalty, Asher’s wisdom, and the voices of the pack echoing with belief instead of suspicion, I finally feel like I can breathe. Like I belong. For the first time in two centuries, I feel whole.

The energy inside the sanctuary is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

It hums in the stone, ripples through every word spoken, every footstep taken.

These wolves—our wolves—they’ve endured fear and uncertainty, but they haven’t lost their strength.

If anything, they’ve grown wiser in their silence.

And somehow, they’ve made room for me amongst them.

Aeson spent years convincing me I wasn’t meant to lead. That I was too soft. Too impulsive. Too unworthy.

But now, I see how wrong he was.

I want this. The responsibility. The challenge. The honor. I want to be the alpha who protects this pack. I want to be the mate who makes Sloane proud. I want everything I thought I’d never have while locked in darkness, bones aching and soul unraveling.

My wolf stirs within me, no longer silent or fractured, but alive and powerful. Ever since we left for the god realm, his strength has returned in full, surging through my blood like wildfire. He wants to run desperately, but we have more pressing things to attend to first.

I need Sloane to know how much I appreciate her and believe in her as the Alpha Queen.

Not for the first time, I made it seem as though I was questioning her abilities, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth.

Fear is a powerful beast, and I can’t let it rule my emotions any longer.

I’m finally free, and I won’t be trapped again. Especially not by my own thoughts.

Sloane and I are shown to a small, closed-off alcove carved into the stone. A blanket hangs from the entryway, giving a semblance of privacy.

“We should make rounds with the pack members,” Sloane says as soon as we’re alone.

She’s pacing the room, her arms crossed while her light blue gown floats around her ankles and her crown shimmers even in the dim light.

“The pack needs to see us. It’ll show strength.

Unity. They’ve had too much chaos already?—”

“Sloane,” I cut in gently.

She pauses, blinking, clearly expecting a strategy question or logistical problem. “What? Did I forget something?”

I step closer, the firelight showcasing the tension in her shoulders. My fingers brush her hand then trail upward until they rest at her jaw.

“No,” I murmur, holding her gaze. “But I did.”

Her brow furrows slightly until I lean in and press my lips to hers.

It’s slow at first. Just a whisper of contact, but then she exhales and melts into me like a dying star collapsing into gravity, and suddenly there’s nothing else.

I pull her into my arms and hold her. Her body curves against mine, her hands tangling in my shirt and her heart beating wildly against my chest, matching mine, like two beats of the same song.

Everything else fades.

The war. The fear. The consequences of tomorrow.

All that matters is this.

Her.

Us.

And the bond between us that not even gods could sever now that I’ve found her.

Sloane slides her fingers up my chest, curling them around the collar of my shirt as she presses her mouth more firmly to mine. There’s hunger in the kiss now, and not just the physical kind, but one born of grief, of longing, of stolen time we can’t get back.

I deepen the kiss, cupping her face with both hands as I pour every ounce of my devotion into her. My thumb glides over her cheek, catching the edge of a tear that takes us both by surprise.

“I thought I would never find you,” she whispers, her lips brushing mine as she speaks. “I don’t want this to ever end.”

“It doesn’t have to,” I say, my forehead resting against hers. “Not for any reason. No one—not Aeson, not fate, not even the gods themselves—can take this from us.”

Her eyes close, and when she breathes, it’s like she’s pulling me into her lungs. Like I’m the air she needs just to keep standing. I kiss her again, softer now, more worshipping than desperate. She sighs against me, her fingers tangling in my hair, holding us both together.

We lose time in each other. Touch, taste, breath, me and her, we’re all that exists.

She traces the scar across my back, the one Aeson left when I was just a boy trying to survive, and something in me breaks open. But instead of the usual pain, I’m met with her warmth, her strength, her love woven into every caress.

“Sloane,” I murmur, pulling her flush against me. “You remind me I’m still a man. Not just the ghost he tried to turn me into.”

She lifts her head, nudging my hair back from my face with a gentle touch. “You could never be a ghost, Julian. I may not have known you before, but seeing how these people believe in you, I have no doubt that you’ve always been fire. I merely helped you remember how to burn.”

My mouth finds hers again, slower, deeper.

She melts into me, a soft moan escaping her lips, and I swear I could stay here forever.

It doesn’t matter that we’re in an alcove, barely separated from the rest of the world.

In this moment, there’s only her and me.

Every chance I have to revere her, every stolen second, I’ll take.

Not out of lust, but reverence. Gratitude. Awe.

And then?—

“So, I was thinking that—oh gods!” Clara’s voice cuts through the moment like a dull blade as she throws an arm over her eyes and spins back toward the entry. “I’m so sorry. I thought…”

I freeze, unsure how Sloane will react, but she surprises me by laughing softly, curling her arm around my waist and resting her head on my chest like she belongs there.

“It’s okay, Clara. You can turn around,” she says, her voice tinged with amusement.

There’s a long, awkward beat of silence before Clara peeks over her shoulder, her expression caught somewhere between mortified and apologetic. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, my queen.”

“Really?” Sloane sighs, pulling back just enough to glance at her. “We’ve rarely been formal with each other. Don’t tell me you’re going to start now.”

Clara gives a sheepish smile, glancing between us. “I guess not.”

“What were you going to tell me?” Sloane asks, her arm still warm around my waist.

Clara shifts uncomfortably, nibbling on the inside of her cheek. “I was just going to suggest we check on Estee. Might be good to ensure she’s in the right headspace before we leave tonight.”

I let out a slow breath, my grip on Sloane tightening instinctively before I force myself to let go. She straightens, smoothing her dress as she regains that quiet, commanding presence that makes her so damn powerful. So queenly.

“I’ll be right there,” she says gently.

Clara nods and retreats, the soft sound of her steps fading down the hall.

Sloane turns back to me, a smile blooming across her face like dawn breaking through the shadows. “Later,” she promises, her voice a vow.

I step closer, pressing my lips over her forehead. “I’ll hold you to that.”

And gods help anyone who tries to keep her from me again.