Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 162

162 A Seat at Blackbirth

Arya’s POVO

Morning came too softly for the kind of night I had survived.

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I woke before the house fully stirred, before the servants began moving through

Maxwell’s halls, before the first clink of breakfast dishes and murmured greetings and

guard rotations could settle into the walls. For a few suspended breaths, I lay still

beneath the covers and stared at the ceiling, disoriented by the quiet.

Then I remembered.

Blackbirth.

The dinner.

Radimir.

Union wolves.

Old power.

Old blood.

Old danger.

My body tensed before my mind finished catching up.

Ria shifted under my skin, alert immediately. You’re awake too early.

I know.

You’re anxious.

I almost laughed at that. Is that what we’re calling this?

Ria gave a restless, almost smug huff and withdrew a little, but not far. She had been

like that since Lev and I began circling each other in ways I could no longer pretend were

only training. Present. Watchful. Hungry in that wolfish, shameless way of hers. Too

interested in him. Too willing to forgive what I was still trying to guard against.

I turned onto my side and pressed my palm against the pillow, willing my pulse to slow.

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162 A Seat at Blackbirth

Last night still lived in my body.

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His hands.

His voice.

That maddening calm.

The way he had looked at me like he could see where my anger ended and where my

grief bled into it.

Lev always left me feeling like I had been dragged through fire and held together at the

same time.

I hated that I did not know which part frightened me more.

A soft knock came at my door before I could sink deeper into the thoughts. I pushed up to sit, pulling the blanket tighter around myself on instinct.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and Lev stepped in like he belonged in the room.

My breath stalled anyway.

He was already dressed to leave, dark shirt fitted clean over his shoulders, jacket thrown over one forearm, hair still slightly damp as though he had bathed quickly and not bothered to dry it fully. Everything about him looked composed. Controlled. Ready.

And yet his eyes went straight to me in bed with a heat he did not bother to hide.

It was the smallest thing.

The quickest thing.

It still sent a treacherous warmth through me.

“You’re awake,” he said.

I lifted a brow, trying for indifference and landing somewhere near guarded. “Clearly.”

That faint almost-smile touched his mouth. “Good. I didn’t want to leave without seeing you.”

Ria purred shamelessly.

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<162 A Seat at Blackbirth

I ignored her.

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I pushed the blanket aside and stood, adjusting the loose robe around my body before he could stare too long at what it hid. “You’re leaving now?”

“For a few hours.” He set the jacket over the chair and took one step closer. “I need to go ahead and make sure everything is in place.”

The reminder struck me in the chest.

Everything.

Blackbirth.

His world.

Not just the man in Dragonclaw’s training yard, pinning me with his stare and telling me to breathe. Not just the infuriating wolf who knew how to pull rage out of my bones and leave my body shaking with things I was not ready to name.

This was Lev in his own territory. Alpha of Blackbirth. Head of the Union council in practice, whether some people wanted to say the title aloud yet or not.

A different kind of dangerous.

My fingers tightened at my robe tie. “For the dinner.”

“Yes.”

I looked away first, toward the window where dawn light was just beginning to spread across the garden below. “Maxwell says I should come.”

A quiet beat.

Then Lev’s voice came lower. Closer. “Do you want to?”

I swallowed.

That was the thing with him. He could command. He did command. But sometimes, when it mattered most, he asked questions in a tone that made lying feel like an insult to both of us.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly.

I heard the soft shift of his boots on the floor. Felt him near before his hand touched my

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arm.

Not trapping.

Not restraining.

Just there.

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Warm. Steady.

“It’s all right to be nervous,” he said.

I let out a brittle breath that might have become a laugh if my chest did not feel so tight.

“Do I look nervous?”

“Yes.”

I turned my head sharply to glare at him.

He did not move his hand.

If anything, his thumb brushed once over my sleeve, light enough that I could pretend I

imagined it.

“I hope to see you there,” he said.

Something in the way he said it made the room change.

Not You should come.

Not Be there.

Not even I expect you there.

I hope to see you there.

The tenderness in it was worse than a command.

More dangerous.

Harder to defend against.

I opened my mouth to say something cutting. Something safe.

Nothing came out.

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<162 A Seat at Blackbirth

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