The first ray of dawn cast a gentle glow upon the sleeping couple. Ophelia stirred in her sleep, her eyes fluttering open to et his muscular shoulders blocking the morning rays. Killorn, despite his powerful fra, was softened in slumber, clutching her tightly. His usually stern expression was relaxed, his skin glowing from the sunlight. His tousled dark hair held a wild charm, framing his face.
Ophelia observed him with a soft smile, her heart swelling. She hesitatingly reached out, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. Despite her light touch, his features shifted in response. He was rarely in deep sleep, yet, she leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. Instantly, she could feel his warmth against her lips, and he woke up. His gaze t hers with a mixture of sleepiness and affection, startling her. A faint, sly grin touched his mouth, his eyes darkening.
"Good morning," Killorn murmured, his voice raspy and deep. "Co here, my lovely wife." He tugged her impossibly closer despite their tangled limbs and his possessive arms woven around her.
"Are you still sore?" Killorn teasingly asked, his large palm calmly stroking up her leg and under her nightgown. She blushed, his thumb sliding to her inner thighs. She jumped, feeling his finger run over a bite mark from him that had yet to fade.
"Y-yes," Ophelia complained, shutting one eye as he feverishly kissed her high cheekbones. He grunted at her response, pressing her closer to his body until she could feel his hardness poking her stomach.
"K-Killorn…" Ophelia grumbled, her breath hitching as his long finger curled upon her lacey undergarnts. "Just a taste," Killorn coaxed, hitching up her skirts and getting onto his knees, towering above her timid figure in bed. "Nothing more."
"B-but how would that pleasure you?" Ophelia mumbled in confusion, as he'd gain nothing from this.
"Just seeing you crying and writhing at the rcy of my tongue is enough." His wicked words forced her to flush from rosy cheeks to the valley of her breast, much to his gentle chuckle.
Killorn parted her knees effortlessly, his knuckles flexing as he tightened his grip on her. He slid under the covers, eager to feel her hips grind against his mouth. Just seconds before he could taste her, a rough knock echoed in the room.
Ophelia clamped her legs shut, but his force held her wide open.
"What is it?!" Killorn roared at the door, feeling her tremble in fear. He adjusted her dress at her widening pupils. She shoved at his chest, but he captured her hands, kissing her fingertips individually.
"Alpha, we've received a letter from the royal family, Everest is expected to arrive in less than a day!" Gerald called out, pounding on the surface. Killorn cursed violently, helping Ophelia to a seated position and drawing her closer. She grimaced at his foul language, but he was in a fouler mood. All he wanted was to eat his wife out for breakfast. Damn that bloodsucking c*ckblock!
"Stay in this corridor, don't go downstairs," Killorn instructed as she nervously nodded. The knocking impatiently continued.
"I'll be out in ten minutes, scram!" Killorn barked, furious at being interrupted. He was straining with need, but shoved the thought aside.
Killorn angrily slid out of bed, tugging on a tunic from the closet, and got dressed. When he finished, he saw her by the vanity, combing her hair. Where was Janette?
"Let help," Killorn said, approaching her from behind. She stilled as he took the boar hair brush from her, but relaxed as he calmly ran it down her silvery hair, cascading down her back like a moonlight waterfall. "Y-you're surprisingly good at this," Ophelia sheepishly mused. Killorn, despite his typical strong and stoic deanor, softened behind her. His brows tugged together in concentration, careful to not hurt her. He was gentle and deliberate, his touch as tender as a whispered promise. "Maribelle used to be a ss of sticks and leaves in her hair. After our mother's death, she wouldn't let anyone near it, except ." Killorn's movents were unhurried, the room silent with quiet intimacy.
"Thank you." Ophelia smiled up at him, his fingers stilling at her features. He groaned as if a bewitching thought crossed his mind. Their eyes held each other's attention for a mont longer, as he slowly brought her smoothed-out hair over her shoulders, covering her slender neck.
"Make sure to eat plenty of breakfast. I'll have Janette bring up lunch for you and Layla. You'll have to dine without today," Killorn warned, pecking her mouth in parting as he settled the brush onto the table.
"S-stay safe," Ophelia said.
"For you, always."
Killorn knew this ill-planned visit ant Everest was still up to no good. Whether or not the royal family discovered that Ophelia's blood might be drawing the monsters, Killorn intended to keep his walls impenetrable—even if it ant holding Everest hostage.
- - - - -
After dressing and eating breakfast, Ophelia imdiately searched for her mother's diary. She took it out, startled that she was still unable to read the ssage. She compared the text to the scriptures on the bed posts, and sure enough, so letters appeared similar. She ran to the library, glad that Layla was already there, but she was arguing with soone.
"...your fault!" Layla accused.
Ophelia froze, wondering if she should leave and co back in a few minutes. She lingered by the open doors, biting her bottom lips. Not a second later, she heard shuffling and a slam, followed by a loud slap.
"Hurry up and accept your punishnt, and be sure to apologize to the Luna on your hands and knees," Layla hissed.
"I will," ca a familiar male voice.
Ophelia stilled as Beetle ca into sight. He paused upon seeing her, shell-shocked that she was still alive. Imdiately, he bowed his head, opening his mouth.
"Luna, I'm so sorry, I really don't know what ca into , I swear I didn't—"
"W-was the punishnt rough?" Ophelia asked, hugging her mother's diary tight to her chest. She tried to understand his viewpoint and was forgiving, but only to people she genuinely knew she could trust.
"Y-yes, Luna," Beetle admitted, unable to et her eyes. Suddenly, he dropped to his knees, but she rushed forward.
"I-I'm unhard you see," Ophelia pleaded, tugging at his clothes to pull him to his feet. She nervously shuffled, as he pressed his forehead to the floor.
"I'll do better, Luna. I swear, by the sacred oath of The Wolf's Sovereignty that my life belongs to you from now on, and any kin you share, will receive my utmost protection," Beetle swore, his posture growing smaller by the second.
"O-okay, I get it, please stand up then," Ophelia decided, growing awkward by his formality. She was used to his happy-go-lucky grin, but suddenly, the man had aged a decade since she last saw him.
"You don't know what that ans, do you?" Layla ca to view, as Beetle sheepishly got to his feet and bowed as Ophelia bid him farewell.
"N-no?" Ophelia said. "I-isn't he just reciting his loyalty to the Mavez P-Pack?"
"Beetle bounded his life to protect you and your future heirs," Layla said. "His priority in life will be your protection to never witness you in harm, no matter what kind of toil it'd put on his body. Shall you die, his life will have no purpose and he will beco a rogue. You are now his ultimate priority."
Ophelia gulped.
"Think of it as an eternal bodyguard who'd risk his life to protect yours, as every cell and fiber in his body forces him into action. His promise to you is much more binding than even the Wolf's Sovereignty and loyalty to their Alpha," Layla continued, with a slight smile. "B-but why…" Ophelia trailed off in confusion. "D-did Killorn put him up to this?"
Layla shrugged. "D-do you abhor for this?" Ophelia asked, "A-after all, isn't he your mate?"
"I am human," Layla mused. "I don't feel anything for him."
A part of Ophelia knew that was a lie. She decided to change the topic, upon Layla's tightened smile.
"Uhm, this is my mother's diary," Ophelia slowly said. "I believe… I truly am the Direct Descendant a-and my mother is… is…"
"The Moon Goddess, Selene," Layla finished. "You are her direct kin. The blood of a goddess flows through your veins. In the language of another country, so might even consider you a demi-god."
Ophelia pressed her lips together. "How did you know…?"
"The writing on the book cover," Layla said. "Besides, there is no one else in this world with hair as white as a full moon, hair as violet as athyst, and blood flowing like liquid silver."
Ophelia slowly nodded. "I-I can't understand the contents of my mother's diary, I believe it is written in the language of the old gods."
Layla took the book from Ophelia and carefully flipped through the page. "It's going to be incredibly difficult to decipher, not to ntion…" she ran her fingertips across the darkened gray ink, almost like lead pencil, but not quite. "This is written in blood."
Ophelia paled, wondering what all of that could an. "T-there must be a reason why it was written in blood."
"Let's make haste," Layla agreed. "The answers found within these pages could save your life, Ophelia… it is perhaps the only solution to our problems."
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