Chapter 11
Adelaide’s POV
After talking with Beata, she prepared afternoon tea for me.
The glass container held homemade vanilla ice cream, its sweet scent mingled with fresh blueberries Beata had just picked.
Our shadows on the basalt countertop were shattered by the loud crash of iron armor.
“Adelaide!” Ulrik’s howl made the starlight chandelier above tremble. “How long do you plan to keep up
this farce?”
“Beata,” I said, watching the melting ice cream–a three–hour labor of love from Beata–slip down the counter, “clean
glass. Ulrik and I need to talk.”
Once Beata’s footsteps faded upstairs, I looked up at the Alpha, his hackles raised. “Want to discuss Shaman Digby?”
Ulrik’s slit pupils burned crimson. “How dare you?”
up
the
I smirked, unleashing my wolf’s aura.
Why sh
I? Maybe the Tenar family should ask why the most reputable shaman, Digby, refused to treat Luna Rosemary. His contract clearly states–If the employer dishonors the healer, the contract may be voided.”
“Stop playing innocent!” Ulrik’s wolf claw hovered inches from my nose.
“I know you lied to Digby to stop him from treating my mother–all to sabotage my bonding with Velda. But this petty blackmail
won’t work.”
He unleashed cedar pheromones, thick with Alpha aura. “Adelaide, I warned you–I won’t be threatened. You scheming she-
wolf!”
“If I’d known you were this manipulative and cruel, I’d never have let you become Bloodmoon’s Luna. I must’ve been blind.”
I lunged forward, my nails elongating into sharp points that pressed against his throat. The height difference forced me to look. up at him, my former mate.
But the pheromones released from my glands were as cold as ice spikes piercing his pores. “If you hate me so much, why won’t
you reject me?”
Ulrik’s Adam’s apple bobbed, a suppressed wolfish howl caught in his throat–this question seemed to have never crossed his
mind.
“What?”
I enunciated each word clearly, “I said, since you hate me this much, why won’t you reject me? Because you can’t. You claim: Velda’s your true mate, yet you won’t sever our bond. The Moon Goddess forbids two mates–so why cling to me?”
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Ulrik froze, at a loss for words.
“Name your reasons,” I pressed, “or I will. ‘Failure to nurture offspring‘ sounds good–or how about ‘endangering family health“? Your mother’s failing wolf spirit is tied to your poor choices.”
Ulrik’s chest heaved, cedar musk soured with sulfur–a sign his pheromones were fracturing
His fingers absently rubbed the Bloodmoon sigil on his sleeve, fresh blood seeping from palm abrasions.
“I won’t reject you,” he growled, Alpha rumble laced with exhaustion. “Ask for anything else, but leave my mother out of this.”
“Coward,” I said clearly.
“Rejecting me brings you no benefits–only risks. The Lycan King’s warriors respect my father’s legacy. You fear being branded heartless–and losing his loyalists.”
Ulrik’s face darkened.
I continued, “You want Velda to satisfy your wolf and your heart, yet demand a future too. But you can’t have it all. Frostfang may be weakened, but it stands on its own–without Bloodmoon’s charity.”
“You underestimate me and overrate yourself,” I said.
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