Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 179

179 His for the Evening

Arya’s POVO

I stayed close to Maxwell because it was the safest place in the room.

Not safe in the soft sense.

Not comfort, not peace, not forgetfulness.

Just safe in the way a strong wall is safe when you know arrows are already in the air.

Blackbirth glittered around us like power made visible. Crystal lights. Polished floors.

Velvet drapes. Silver trays moving through the crowd in the hands of servants trained

not to stare too long at the wolves who could ruin lives with one nod. Laughter rose in

little pockets across the hall, all of it polished, all of it measured, and beneath it I could

feel the same thing I had been feeling since stepping into this place,

assessment.

Whispers did not need sound to exist. You could feel them on your skin.

Maxwell stood beside me with the ease of a man who had earned his place in these

circles long before tonight. His expression stayed calm, almost bored at times, but I had

begun to understand him enough to notice the small tells, the way his shoulders went a fraction tighter when Marcel moved too close to Radimir, the way his gaze tracked Lev without seeming to, the way his hand remained near mine when someone approached

as if reminding the room, and me, that I was not standing here alone.

I was still trying to settle myself after what had happened in the corridor.

My mouth still remembered Lev.

My throat still burned where he had kissed me.

My thoughts were a mess I was hiding behind posture and silence.

Ria was no help.

He said only one woman, she reminded me for the tenth time like she was reciting scripture.

If you say that again, I’ll lock you in the back of my head.

< 179 His for the Evening

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I kept my face smooth and lifted my glass, pretending interest in the amber drink I hadn’t

really tasted.

Then Maxwell stiffened.

It was subtle, but I felt it instantly.

I followed his line of sight and saw a woman gliding toward us through the crowd with

the confidence of someone who had never once doubted she would be welcomed

wherever she stepped.

Diana.

I knew it before she reached us.

She looked like old power polished into elegance, beautiful in a way designed to be

remembered, dressed in deep jewel tones that suited the Blackbirth setting and the

status she carried as Radimir’s daughter. Her smile was perfect when she reached

Maxwell, but there was something sharp under it, something that made my skin tighten.

Maxwell inclined his head, polite and cool.

“Diana.”

“Alpha Maxwell.” Her voice was warm enough for the room and no warmer. “It has been

too long.”

“Not long enough for some people,” he said dryly.

The smile on her mouth did not move, but I saw the flicker in her eyes. She heard the jab.

She simply chose not to bleed in public.

Then she turned to me.

For a heartbeat, she looked me over the way everyone else in Blackbirth had done

tonight, dress, posture, jewelry, mark, scars no one could see but everyone believed they

could smell.

Only Diana did not hide it.

She stepped closer, graceful as a cat, and offered me her hand. “So this is Arya. I’ve

heard quite a bit.”

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I took her hand because refusing would have been a scene. “I’m sure you have.”

Her smile widened by a breath.

Then she leaned in as if to greet me properly and her nose flared almost imperceptibly.

She was sniffing me.

My spine went rigid.

Her gaze lifted to mine, amusement glinting there.

“You’ve been with Lev?” she said.

Not asked.

Stated.

Heat flared across my face before I could stop it. I didn’t move. Didn’t look away. Didn’t

give her the satisfaction of seeing the panic that shot through me.

Maxwell’s jaw tightened. “Diana.”

She laughed softly and straightened, waving one hand as though she had merely made

a harmless joke. “Relax. I’m teasing.”

I did not believe her.

Not for one second.

But she turned to me again and spoke with smooth, social sweetness. “Come. You

shouldn’t stand with the men all evening. The women are in the tea section. You should

join us.’

I opened my mouth to refuse.

I didn’t want to go anywhere Diana led.

I didn’t want to sit with women who would smile and cut.

I didn’t want to leave Maxwell when the room still felt like a trap with velvet drapes.

Before I answered, I glanced around and realised she was right about one thing.

The men had begun to separate from the women.

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Not formally, not announced, but the drift had happened. Clusters of Alphas and Betas gathered in one direction, voices lower, shoulders turned inward. The women had formed their own circle toward a side lounge section dressed softer than the main hall, tea service, pastries, delicate chairs, curated elegance meant to look harmless.

A social battlefield.

Maxwell looked at me once. Not pushing. Not warning. Just measuring whether I wanted

rescue or room to choose.

I heard his earlier words in my head, If he pushes too hard, you tell me. Different

situation. Same lesson.

I lifted my chin.

“For a little while,” I said.

Diana’s smile sharpened as if she had won something.

Maxwell’s eyes met mine briefly. A quiet warning. A quieter trust.

I went.

The tea section was exactly what I expected and somehow worse.

Beautiful. Fragrant. Controlled.

Low conversation drifted above the clink of china cups and the rustle of expensive fabric.

Several women looked up the moment Diana entered with me. I saw the recognition

travel in stages from face to face.

Some curiosity.

Some dislike.

Some satisfaction.

Rebecca was there.

Of course she was.

So was Mary, the woman Radimir had publicly tied to Lev in that humiliating

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