Page 15 of The Onyx Covenant (The Lunaterra Chronicles #2)

Chapter Eleven

THERON

F uck, my head aches.

I blink against the faint early-morning light filtering through the cave entrance. Every muscle in my body feels like I’ve been thrown off a cliff. Oh, wait, I was.

Lyra’s naked body is draped over my chest, her breathing deep and steady against my skin. She’s warm and soft, and I can’t help but slide my hand down the curve of her spine, appreciating the feel of her pressed against me. Last night comes rushing back—her mouth on mine, her body moving on me, the way she said my name when she came undone.

A moment I will never forget.

But we need to move. The ritual is happening, and we’re wasting daylight.

I move, and pain lances through my skull. I touch my forehead and remove the bandage, but there’s nothing but smooth skin. My wolf’s healing has done its work, though the spot is still tender as hell.

Carefully, I untangle myself from Lyra, smirking as she makes a small noise of protest in her sleep. The fire has nearly died, just embers glowing softly in the dim cave. Our clothes are spread nearby, mostly dry now. Smart woman, thinking ahead while I was busy nearly dying. I add wood to the dying embers, coaxing the fire back to life.

I grab my pants, grimacing at the lingering dampness as I pull them on. My shirt and jacket follow, still damp in spots but good enough. Then my socks and boots. We don’t have time for perfect.

Kieran. Rachel. Orion. Aria. Where the fuck did they end up? They’re strong, capable fighters, but that river was brutal.

And Lyra saved me. I actually fucking died, and she brought me back. I’m still dealing with the reality of that.

Stepping outside, the cool morning air hits my skin. The river flows below, calmer now as the sun starts to rise over the horizon. The Darkbone Peaks loom closer than I expected—the cliff and river cut a significant chunk off our journey. At least something’s working in our favor.

My stomach growls, reminding me that neither of us has eaten since the shitshow dinner. I can fix that.

Moving silently through the underbrush takes focus, but hunting has been drilled into me since childhood. It doesn’t take long to spot a fat rabbit, oblivious to the predator tracking it. One quick chase, and it’s over—neck snapped cleanly.

I skin and clean it outside the cave. No need to make a mess inside.

When I return to the cave, Lyra’s still sleeping, her blonde hair splayed across the blanket, one arm stretched to where I’d been lying. Something tightens in my chest at the sight, a feeling I’ve spent the last year trying to bury.

I spear a branch through the rabbit and hold it over the flames, then sit down near my Omega. The cave fills with the scent of roasting meat. My mouth waters, reminding me how long it’s been since I’ve eaten.

Soon, Lyra stirs, her nose twitching slightly. Her eyes open, immediately alert and focused on me.

“Hey, beautiful,” I say with a grin.

She stretches, unconcerned with her nakedness, then sits up.

“You’re looking better than the last time I saw you conscious.”

“Hard not to, considering I died and was bleeding out.”

She scans my body, lingering on my forehead. “Your wound’s gone. Fast healing.”

“Still sore as hell, though. Feels like I got kicked by a fucking horse.”

She wraps the blanket loosely around herself as she moves closer to inspect my head. “The moondust you drank probably helped accelerate the healing.”

“Whatever it was, it worked.” I turn the rabbit over the flames. “Hungry?”

“Starving,” she admits, tucking her legs beneath her. “I didn’t realize how much energy it takes to drag your heavy ass out of a river.”

I snort. “Could’ve left me there.”

“And miss the opportunity to lord it over you for the rest of your life? Not a chance.”

I tilt my head, smirking. “Pretty sure the real reason you’re drained is from riding my face like you were chasing God… and the way we fucked afterward.” I glance at her flushed cheeks. “Dragging me out of the river was just the start.”

She snorts. “Keep talking, and I’ll shove you back in the river.”

“You didn’t deny it.”

“Too tired to argue. Next time, you get to drown.”

There’s the sass I remember, the sharp wit that caught my attention when we first met. I watch as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Even half wrapped in a blanket, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“The rabbit’s going to take longer, but we don’t have time,” I say, tearing my gaze away. “But it’s edible. Then we need to get going.”

“Any idea where the others might be?” she asks, her tone shifting to something more concerned.

“River probably carried them downstream. Hopefully, they made it to shore.” I check the rabbit again, the skin crisping over the flames at least. “Kieran’s been through worse. That damn wolf has more lives than a shadow cat.”

“What about Aria and Orion?” Lyra’s brow furrows. “Aria’s a strong swimmer, but if she was injured from the fall…”

“Rachel would look after her,” I say, trying to sound reassuring. “And Orion strikes me as the responsible type.”

Lyra sighs, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “Aria’s like a sister to me. She’s an orphan, you know. No one knows who her parents are.”

“That’s fucking awful.” I turn the rabbit, letting her continue a bit longer.

“No one would claim her,” Lyra continues, her voice softer now. “A family volunteered to raise her; both parents are in Nightshade, our warrior division. So she’s determined to be like them, to prove herself. She’s the most incredible fighter I know, but sometimes I think she pushes too hard, as if she’s trying to earn her place.”

“Must be hard, not knowing where you come from,” I say, pulling the rabbit from the fire.

Lyra nods, her expression troubled. “Sometimes, I wonder if her parents are still in the pack, just not telling anyone she’s theirs. It would kill her if she found out.”

“Political reasons?” I ask, breaking the rabbit in half and offering her the larger portion.

“Or fear,” she suggests, accepting the meat with a nod of thanks. “Not everyone believed in the old ways of dealing with mixed-pack relationships. Some might have hidden children to protect them.”

The possibility that Aria might be half Umbra could make her parents fearful of revealing the truth when people under my father’s reign have died for less.

“She’s going to be fine,” I say. “She has you.”

Lyra takes a bite of the rabbit, her eyes closing briefly in appreciation. “This is good,” she murmurs.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” I retort, tearing into my own portion. “I do know how to feed myself.”

“I just never pegged the great Theron for a cook,” she teases, a small smile playing on her lips. “Thought you’d have servants doing that for you.”

“My father has servants,” I correct, the mention of him souring my mood. “I prefer to handle things myself.”

“Speaking of your father,” Lyra begins. “He clearly wants you to win the ritual. How will you deal with that if you do win? I’m pretty sure he will die of a heart attack if I don’t die and win alongside you.”

The question catches me off guard.

“It’s not that simple,” I say, tossing a bone into the fire. “For him, this is about winning, holding on to power. It’s personal for me.”

Her eyes study my face, searching for something.

“Because of your sister? I remember you once told me briefly about her.”

I nod, the familiar rage building at the memory of Rina. “He executed her when I was twelve. Blamed her for helping Elios refugees escape a culling.” My jaw clenches tight enough to hurt. “Public execution. Made me watch.”

Ice fills me, my hatred for my father so deep I lose all sense of emotions. No empathy, no understanding for him.

“Theron…” Lyra’s voice softens, her hand reaching out to touch my arm.

“That’s just the start,” I continue, the words bitter in my mouth. “After that, my mother changed. Started asking dangerous questions about pack history, about the Onyx Covenant. Then one day, she was just… gone.” I stare into the fire, seeing my father’s cold eyes as he announced her disappearance. “He told everyone she’d run off with an Elios male, that they’d both been killed by rogue wolves in the borderlands.”

“But you don’t believe that,” Lyra says softly.

“Fuck no. I found her journal notebooks hidden under the floorboards in our home. She wrote that my father had been lying, manipulating both packs, and betraying the Onyx Covenant itself. Said there was proof hidden somewhere in the Covenant chambers.”

Lyra blinks at me, her face paling. “Oh, fuck! That’s why you want to win the ritual. To get access to the Covenant building.”

“I think my father has been silencing people while erasing our history.” The fire pops, sending sparks dancing into the air. “The last pair of Elios who won the ritual mysteriously died after a few months in their reign, and he forced the packs to run the Harvest Ritual again for new candidates. Before them, Umbra was in charge for three consecutive terms.”

“You think he killed them,” Lyra says, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m certain he did,” I reply. “Just like I know he killed my mother when she got too close to the truth. I need to find proof, expose him, change the fucking way things are run by him.” I squeeze her hand, needing her to understand. “He wants Elios exterminated, Lyra. Completely wiped out. And I won’t let him do it, even if it means him against me.”

Silence falls between us, heavy with the weight of my confession. I’ve never told anyone this much—not even Kieran knows the full extent of my suspicions. But Lyra needs to know what we’re really fighting for, what’s truly at stake.

Without warning, she moves forward, abandoning her food and the blanket to wrap her arms around my neck. The sudden embrace comes as a surprise, her naked body pressed against mine, her face buried in my neck.

“I’m so sorry about your mother and sister,” she whispers against my skin. “Makes me fucking loathe your father even more than I already did.”

I encircle my arms around her, pulling her closer, letting myself take comfort in her warmth. For so long, I’ve carried this alone—the suspicion, the rage, the grief. Having her understand, having her believe me without question, feels like putting down a weight I didn’t realize was crushing me.

“That’s why I need to win this,” I murmur into her hair. “For them, for everyone my father has hurt or plans to destroy. I need to end his reign before he ruins both packs.”

She hugs me more, then pulls back, still touching, and she wears the pain, too.

“But I worry that I’m more like him than I want to admit,” I counter. “The rage, the violence, the ability to do whatever it takes—that’s his blood in me.”

“You’re nothing like him,” she says fiercely. “Nothing.”

Her faith in me is staggering, unearned. It reminds me of why I was drawn to her from the beginning—not just her beauty or her fire, but the way she saw me. Really saw me, beyond the Umbra markings and the Shadowmane name, beyond the reputation and the rumors. She saw the man I was trying to be, not the monster my father was grooming.

“When I met you at the border,” I say slowly. “It was the first time in years I felt like myself. Not my father’s son, not the future Alpha, just… me.”

She smiles, a genuine one that lights up her whole face. “I remember thinking you were the most arrogant ass I’d ever met.”

I laugh, caught off guard by her candor. “And yet you kept meeting me.”

“What can I say? I have terrible taste in men.”

“The worst,” I agree, pulling her closer again, savoring the feel of her against me. “We need to win, Lyra. For your pack, for mine. For us.”

She hesitates at first, then says, “For us.”

We finish our meal quickly, aware of time slipping away. Lyra returns to her clothes, dressing fast, and I can’t help but watch. She catches me staring as she pulls her shirt over her head.

“You didn’t get enough last night?” she teases.

“Never,” I reply honestly.

A light blush colors her cheeks, but she doesn’t look away.

“Save it for after we win.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Might be.” She laces up her boots, then gathers her pack. “Ready?”

I put out the flames, kicking dirt on the spot, then shoulder my bag and nod. “Let’s find the others and head up into the mountains.”

We step outside into the full morning light. The river gleams below, reflecting the clear sky. The Darkbone Peaks dominate the horizon. From here, I can make out the dark gap between them—the valley that’s our destination.

“We made better progress than I thought,” Lyra observes, shielding her eyes as she studies the peaks. “The fall and river cut miles off our journey.”

“Small mercies,” I grunt, scanning the terrain ahead. Rocky ground gradually rises toward the mountains, scattered trees thinning as the elevation increases. “We should shift. Cover more ground that way.”

“Agreed.” She turns to me, her expression serious. “Do you really think we can do this? Find proof against your father, change things between our packs?”

The doubt in her voice is reasonable; what we’re attempting seems impossible. Two wolves against generations of hatred, against an Alpha who’s ruled through fear and manipulation for decades.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “But I know we have to try. I’m tired of living in his shadow, tired of watching people suffer for his ambition.”

“If we fail?—”

“We won’t,” I cut her off, not willing to consider the alternative. “We can’t.”

She studies me for a long moment, then nods once, decision made.

“Then we’d better win this ritual.”

We secure our packs more tightly, preparing to shift. Lyra rolls her shoulders, loosening muscles still sore from yesterday’s ordeal.

“Stay close to me out there,” I tell her. “I don’t trust the quiet.”

“I’m not the one who needs protection,” she tells me. “I wasn’t the one who died last night.”

“Don’t remind me,” I grimace, touching the spot where my wound had been. “Still can’t believe you fed me your blood.”

“Saved your ass, didn’t it?”

“That it did.” I glance at her, suddenly serious. “Thank you. For that, for listening, for… everything.”

She holds my gaze, a slow smile spreading across her face. “You’re welcome. Now, let’s go win a ritual.”