I Refuse To Be Your Luna (Flourish and Harold) novel Chapter 6

Lady Flourish’s POV

“Anywho, the main reason I returned was to witness the Luna Rite, and say hello to Grandpa,” he glanced at Alpha Magnus meaningfully. “I may not be part of the family anymore, but you’re still my brother. And you’re still my grandpa.”

Harold nodded slowly, but there was confusion in his eyes.

Since when did Damian care about family?

Before Harold could reply, Phina yelped in pain. “Ow!”

Everyone glanced at her, and saw that she had tried to peel the scallops herself while Harold was talking to Damian. The knife slipped and cut her finger.

Dark red blood began to drip from the wound.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to stress you any more than…”

“Phina, what have I told you about being so independent? You’re too fragile to handle a knife,” Harold cut her off, grasping her palm with concern. He looked a doting mate, all lovey and warm and gentle.

The table went quiet.

“I’ll take her to the healers. Excuse me everyone,” Harold said somewhat politely, and basically carried Phina out of the room.

“Will you go after them?” I heard Damian’s voice rumble in my ears.

I flinched slightly, then turned to look at him. His dark green eyes met mine, and my wolf began to shift uneasily inside me.

I looked away and swallowed. “He can do whatever he wants. After all, if he wastes too much time her body will absorb the wound as it should.”

“Flourish, you know how things are for Phina. Harold is just paying his respects to his Beta Rowan. It would be a shame if Phina had no one to care for her,” a soft, buttery voice arose from the table.

I turned to find Harold’s mother, Daciana, reaching over to place her palm on mine. I shot her a look and slowly pulled back my palm, keeping it on my lap.

Her expression turned grim, and she glanced at her husband, Alpha Ragnar. They both shook their head slightly.

Damian chuckled beside me, and grabbed a piece of scallop to peel. He carefully placed it on my plate. “Here. Your comfort food, remember?”

I froze.

How…how did he know I loved scallops?

I stared at the plate in confusion as he peeled more and placed them neatly, my mind still racing. “Thank….thank you,” I muttered softly.

“Of course,” he nodded at me. Then he faced Alpha Magnus, and the table quietly settled into Alpha conversations and business here and there.

Along the line, I realized it had been over an hour and neither Harold nor Phina had returned. The thought made my stomach twist, but I shoved it aside.

Suddenly, Damian got up and excused himself to the restroom. He accidentally hit one of the waitresses, and she spilled wine onto my dress. The red immediately glared on the soft green silk.

“Damn it. Excuse me everyone,” I sighed, rising carefully from my seat as the waitress apologized profusely.

“It’s alright,” I said tiredly, even though the cold wine had soaked through the silk and clung unpleasantly to my skin. “Just point me toward the nearest washroom.”

“One of the maids will take you, Lady Flourish,” Alpha Ragnar offered quickly.

Before anyone else could move, Damian stood from where he’d returned to the doorway.

“I know where it is. I’ll take her.”

The entire table stilled.

My pulse skipped.

Daciana’s brows pinched almost immediately. “Damian, that’s unnecessary.”

“It’s a hallway, not a battlefield, mom.” Damian replied lazily.

A few Alphas chuckled under their breath, though the tension remained thick enough to choke on.

“I can manage myself,” I cut in sharply.

Damian looked down at me then, and an unreadable look flickered through his eyes.

“I know,” he said quietly. “You always could.”

The words hit harder than they should have. What on earth was he talking about?

Without waiting for another argument, I walked ahead of him, ignoring the strange looks burning into my back.

The moment we stepped outside the dining hall, the warmth vanished.

The corridor was quieter. Colder.

My wolf stirred restlessly beneath my skin.

I could hear his footsteps behind me. Unhurried. Heavy. Familiar.

Goddess…

Why did they feel familiar?

The maid pointed toward a private washroom at the end of the corridor before practically fleeing the tension between us.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside, moving straight toward the marble sink. I grabbed a towel and dampened it quickly, trying to blot the wine stain before it spread further.

“It won’t come out like that.”

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