Moonlit Vows Of Vengeance-Chapter 35: Elira’s Proposition

Athena

The Next Morning

Elira sent an invite to Lucas to "show him something important." I followed at a distance. Well I didn’t want to come but Lucas spent hours asking me to go along with him.

The place was dimly lit, high-arched, and silent save for the muffled tap of their footsteps.

"The colors are from bloodroot," she was saying, guiding him to a hanging that stretched across the far wall. "They fade over time, unless renewed."

"Impressive," Lucas said, eyes on the threadwork.

She stepped closer. "Do you believe in fate, Lucas?"

He blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I believe our kind are woven into patterns far older than we understand. You and I" Her fingers brushed his wrist again. "we’re born to be together."

Lucas took a step back, careful, measured. "I don’t really believe in fate."

She tilted her head. "You should. You should also know that wolves don’t always have the luxury of choice."

His eyes darkened. "I make my own choices."

"I wasn’t referring to you," she said softly, stepping even closer, "In fact I want you to choose me, willingly."

I stepped into the light then, arms folded. "This is quite strange, I thought you invited him to see threadwork, not threaten him with an arranged mating."

Elira didn’t flinch. "Of course, he’s here to see the thread work. I was only confessing how I felt to him. Nothing more"

Lucas looked at me. "I can give you an answer right now. ."

Elira’s eyes narrowed. "Careful, Lucas. Take more time to think about it. I really expect a positive answer from you."

I smiled coldly. "I really wouldn’t keep my hopes up if I were you."

Elira exhaled, amused. "You said you don’t want him. So why guard him like a wolf in heat?"

"A wolf in heat?" I said, stepping closer, nose to nose with her now. "Now that just sounds out right insulting.."

She snarled quietly, a flicker of fang showing, but Lucas stepped between us, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Enough," he said.

Elira’s eyes glittered like knives. "Just think about it, properly Lucas."

She turned and left, her perfume lingering like smoke.

Lucas turned to me. "I would rip out her heart for saying those words to you after getting the Kurd."

"There’s no need for you to," I said flatly.

He watched me for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay."

The moon hung high when we returned to the quarters, the cold stone beneath our feet heavy with warning. I could still hear Genrik’s arrows in my memory, each whistle a message, each strike a threat. Wolves hunted on their own.

Hiss eyes were fixed on the dark corners of the room, still alert even in rest. We couldn’t afford to let our guard down—not here.

"We can’t overpower it," I said finally. "You saw how fast it heals. It won’t part with the Kurd unless it thinks it’s obeying its master." freewebnσvel.cѳm

Lucas grunted. "And Genrik will never let go of the Kurd"

"No," I said. "But we don’t need him. We just need something of his. His scent."

Lucas’s head turned slowly. "Go on."

"You know that," I continued, "we’re guided by scent more than sight or voice. The beast is monstrous, but it still recognizes loyalty to its creator. That loyalty’s built on scent. If we trick it into thinking we are Genrik..."

"We could ask for the Kurd directly," Lucas murmured, catching on. "Make it, give it to us willingly."

"But we’d need the right trigger," I said. "And the scent has to be bloodline-deep. Not just his clothes. It has to come from his body."

Lucas narrowed his eyes. "Hair."

I nodded. "Exactly. Just a strand should do."

Lucas straightened from the wall. "And how exactly do you propose we get that?"

"Elira."

He froze.

I waited.

"She’s his daughter," I said softly. "Same blood. Same scent. You said it yourself, bloodline carries through the skin."

He made a low sound in his throat. "So how are we going to get her hair without her suspecting us."

I smirked. "She already thinks you’re hers. You could just go somewhere with her or visit her and get close enough to get a hair strand from her hair."

Lucas looked away sharply, pacing once before facing me again. "No. I’m not doing it."

"Lucas—"

"No."

"It’s the only way."

"I’d rather wrestle that thing again."

I rose, stepping into his path. "This mission is more than us. You know that. You know what’s at stake. The Moon Goddess is fading. If we don’t get the Kurd—"

"I know what’s at stake!" he snapped, then exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know. Damn it, I know."

I lowered my voice. "Then do what needs to be done. Get close to her. Charm her. Just enough to get a hair strand."

Lucas looked at me, searching for something. I wasn’t sure what though.

"Just a hair strand," he said, almost to himself. "That’s all."

I nodded.

The next morning, as expected, Lord Genrik invited us to a formal lunch on the terrace overlooking the southern gardens. The table was draped in violet linens, the dishes elaborate and perfumed. Servants bustled.

Genrik’s voice rang clearly across the table. "Lucas, you’ve already met my daughter Elira, how is it going between the two of you?"

Elira gave a smile, it was all silk and sugar and then she turned her gaze to Lucas. "We have spent some time with each other," she said, resting her chin on her hand. "I have enjoyed every single moment with him. I almost don’t want it to end each time."

Lucas nodded politely, his expression unreadable. "It has been...memorable."

I could feel his discomfort roll off him like heat. Elira leaned in closer across the table.

"Perhaps after lunch, I could show you around the gardens. There’s a new bloom recently. I find it very charming."

Lucas gave a tight smile. "I’m not much of a flower person."

"But of course, you’re much more than that." Her eyes traced him like a predator sizing prey.

I chewed slowly, trying not to roll my eyes. Genrik was watching, obviously pleased at their exchange. Lucas gave me a sidelong look under the table, a silent help me before saying aloud, "We can do that some other time, I guess."

He stood too quickly.

"I’ll join you," I offered, half out of my seat already.

But Elira’s hand caught Lucas’ sleeve. "Just a moment. Why not stay a little longer..." Her fingers grazed his shoulder, brushing what looked like lint, and then tucked a strand of her own hair behind her ear. One that had come loose earlier when she’d moved close.

Lucas’s eyes went towards it, then he said quietly." Let me help you with that..then he brushed her hair strand and then I saw a dark-gold strand now caught lightly on his sleeve, clinging like spider-silk.

Elira nodded and blushed a bit then said. "Thank you."

He said coolly. "You’re welcome, I have to leave now."

When he turned, I saw his fingers subtly fold the hair and slip it into his palm.

Mission success.

We walked together down the hall, and when the doors closed behind us, I muttered, "So?"

He opened his hand slightly — just enough to show the thin strand still clinging to his skin.

"I feel like I need a bath," he growled.

I clapped him on the shoulder. "Let’s hope that strand gets us close enough to fool the beast."

He scowled. "It has to be, I’m not coming that close to her again."

I raised a brow. "Why are you so disgusted?"

"She’s not my type at all," he muttered. "And I get irritated when I’m too close to women that aren’t my type."

I chuckled as I removed the small glass vial and wax from our travel bag. "So what’s your type exactly?"

He shot me a sideways glance. "You... you’re my type"

I didn’t answer, I knew he was just kidding so I just handed him the pestle. "Crush the pine ash. I’ll bind the base oil."

Then we got serious, together, we worked in silence. The room smelled of burnt herbs, resin, and faint traces of iron. I ground the bloodroot against the mortar, while Lucas layered the crushed ash into the oil with steady hands.

Finally, I added the strand of Elira’s hair. It dissolved slowly, writhing like a sliver of spirit under the oil. It was locked into place.

Lucas inhaled. "There it is."

The scent wasn’t Genrik exactly—but it was close. The same bloodline signature, now infused in both of us. The beast wouldn’t attack us on instinct. Best case scenario was that this would work. The Worst case scenario was that we would never get another chance again.

I capped the vial and let it rest near the cold hearth, the wax seal glowing faintly.

Lucas leaned back, resting against the wall. His shoulders were tense and he seemed even more tired.

"You alright?" I asked.

He hesitated. "Yeah. Just... thinking."

I waited.

After a moment, he said, "I hope this works."

"Well," I said. "Hopefully it does."

"And if it fights us again?"

I looked at my hands. "Then we outsmart it. We have to."

He nodded, jaw tight. "Still feels too good to work."

"I know."

Then we didn’t say anything else for a moment

"Once we’ve completed the mission." he said quietly, "I hope everything returns back to normal... I mean how it was before..."

That felt so weird. Because sometimes, I saw him as nothing other than cunning and heartless. But I hadn’t even thought about other people. I looked at the empty hearth and said, "You think Genrik wants you to mate with his daughter or is it his daughter that wants to mate with you?"

Lucas snorted. "It doesn’t matter, besides why did you change the topic out of the blue .."

That pulled a small smirk from me.

Outside, the wind picked up. A storm was coming, and with it, the confrontation we’d been circling for days.

I leaned my head back against the wall. "If we get through this, and we get the Kurd..."

Lucas turned to me. "What then?"

I looked at him and smiled. "We go backk. Did you think I was going to say a motivational speech?"

His eyes searched mine for a moment, and something flickered in them. Then he nodded. "Alright, you got me good there."

Lucas stood and held out the vial of scent mask. "Should we go now?"

I nodded, feeling the weight of what was to come. "Let’s move."

We slipped quietly from the room, each of us an echo in the dark halls. The mask’s scent clung to our skin like a second fur — familiar, yet foreign a clever deception gotten from the bloodline of Lord Genrik himself.

Lucas glanced at me. "If this doesn’t work, run first."

I swallowed and stepped forward, the scent of Elira’s hair mingling with the damp earth and storm-wet leaves.

The woods welcomed us with a suffocating silence. Our footsteps barely disturbed the fallen leaves, the scent mask dulling the predator’s senses we both feared.

Ahead, the clearing glowed faintly under the storm-lit sky, the ring of white ash stark against the blackened earth.

From the shadows, the beast emerged, massive and still, its eyes reflecting the lightning’s flash.

It sniffed the air, nostrils flaring.

Recognition flickered in its gaze.

Lucas and I held our breath.

The scent mask was working.

It didn’t charge.

Instead, it circled us slowly, its gaze calculating.

I whispered, "We do this fast. Get the Kurd, then leave."

Lucas nodded, shifting into a low crouch.

The moment had come.

We stood side by side in the clearing, the scent mask cloaking us in the bloodline of Genrik, but no comfort settled over me. The beast’s eyes were fixed on us, sharp and unreadable.

I swallowed hard and stepped forward, hands raised in a calm gesture. "We come for the Kurd."

The beast’s growl rumbled low in its throat, but it didn’t attack.

Lucas’s voice was steady beside me. "We mean no harm. We only want what is inside you."

The creature’s hackles rose, muscles tensing beneath mottled fur stained with shadows and rot. It sniffed the air between us again, nostrils flaring wide.

Then, almost imperceptibly, the beast’s massive paw shifted toward its chest.

I caught the movement.

Something gleamed faintly beneath its fur — a fragment pulsing with a dull, dark light.

The beast hesitated for a moment or two.

And then, slowly, it suddenly pressed its paw to the ground.

It brought it out willingly, the Kurd.

Lucas reached out cautiously and took the fragment, cradling it as if it were fragile glass.

We both exhaled deeply. Mission successfully accomplished!

But before we could step back in gladness, the beast lifted its head high and unleashed a sound that ripped through the forest like a storm.

A howl that wasn’t a howl.

More of a scream.

A broken, desperate cry that shattered the night.

The trees trembled.

The earth seemed to pulse beneath us.

I felt the air thicken, prickling against my skin.

The beast’s eyes locked on ours — warning, mourning, rage all tangled inside.

Lucas tightened his grip on the Kurd.

"We need to go right now," I said, voice barely a whisper.