Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 218

218 Bloodline and Boundaries

Lev’s POV

I was glad she came. Not glad in the loose way men say it when they mean something was convenient. Not glad the way a host is pleased a guest accepted an invitation. No. This sat deeper than that. Too close to my ribs. Too close to the part of me that had been restless for days. Arya was in Blackbirth again. In my territory. Under my roof. In my room. I should have been thinking about security. About optics. About Radimir’s mood. About the older wolves who had been watching me too closely these days, waiting for

me to slip so they could say I was not ready. I should have been thinking about all of

that. Instead, I was thinking about her.

I kept seeing her in the car. The way she sat in my lap and tried to act like she was not shaking inside while her body answered mine anyway. The way she hit my chest

because she did not know what else to do with the heat between us. The way her mouth

would part when she forgot to hide what she was feeling. The way her eyes always

gave her away even when her words tried not to. I did not know how to tell her plainly

what I already knew. That I could not stand being away from her. That every time I came back to Blackbirth without her, the house felt wrong. Too big. Too cold. Too full of

people who wanted things from me while the one thing I actually wanted was

somewhere else.

I did not want to scare her with it. That was the problem. Arya was still bleeding in

places she did not admit to. Anyone with eyes could see it if they looked properly. You

heard it when she went quiet for too long. You saw it when her gaze drifted somewhere

far away. You felt it when a voice rose too suddenly or a door shut too hard and

something in her stilled before she forced herself back to normal. If I came at her too

hard, she would run. Not because she did not want me. That was not the issue. She did. I

knew she did. Her body gave her away too often for me not to know. But wanting me

frightened her. Wanting anything again frightened her. So I said what I could say in the

ways I knew how. With my hands. With my mouth at her throat. With the way I looked

at her when the world tried to shove her back into some smaller place.

And yes, I hoped. I hoped more than I should have. Hoped she would let me love her

properly one day. Not in stolen moments. Not in hidden corridors. Not in half truths and

brief touches and interrupted hours. Properly. The word was too soft for our world, but I

meant it anyway. I meant it more than I wanted to admit.

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Then Radimir ruined it.

Of course he did.

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He always had a talent for that. Interrupting the wrong thing at exactly the right time,

like he could smell when something mattered to me and could not bear to let me have it

without putting his hand in the middle of it. By the time I got to the corridor outside his

office, my jaw was tight enough to ache. Not because he had called me. Because of

when he had called me. Right when Arya had been against the wall, flushed and warm,

eyes too bright, breathing unevenly because I had put her there on purpose. Right when

she had looked at me like she was standing on the edge of something and did not know

whether to step forward or run.

I respected Radimir. That was the complication. Respect was not affection. It was not

obedience either. It was simply truth. He had held Blackbirth together when my father died and I was too young to do anything but survive grief, training, and the burden of

carrying a name everyone watched. He had built power. He had built alliances. He had

protected the territory in ways most men could not have. But he had been regent for so

long that somewhere along the line, he had started confusing holding power with

owning it. That did not erase what he had done for this territory. It also did not mean he

got to speak to me like I was still a boy.

The guards opened the door the moment I reached it. The office smelled the same as always. Old wood. Leather. Paper. Ink. Authority. Radimir kept the room unchanged, like moving even one thing would admit time had passed and age had come for him. He was

seated behind the main desk when I walked in.

My seat.

He liked doing that. Always had. That quiet little reminder that he still believed he ruled

this house, this territory, this bloodline. I did not comment on it. I did not bow either. I

walked past the desk and sat on the couch instead, one ankle resting over my knee like I

was not some boy called in to be corrected.

Radimir’s eyes narrowed right away.

He hated it when I refused to play his little games.

“Look at you,” he said, voice heavy with disapproval. “Always too comfortable.”

I said nothing.

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218 Bloodime and Boundaries

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Silence annoyed him more than arguments ever did. Silence made him hear himself. He leaned forward and tapped his fingers once on the desk.

“How do you plan to lead when you are always distracted?”

I kept my face blank.

Radimir’s mouth tightened.

“You’ve been to Dragonclaw too many times. You’ve stayed there. You leave Blackbirth in the hands of your Beta as if this house is a tavern you visit when the mood takes you.”

Still, I said nothing.

He kept talking, voice rising just enough to show his control was slipping.

“No Alpha does that. Not a real one. Not one who understands territory. Not one who understands weight.”

I let him go on. That was his pattern. Anger first. Guilt second. Control last. He pushed hard, then harder, then reached for obedience once he thought he had worn you down enough to accept it. And yes, one part of what he said was true. Blackbirth did not like being left. People noticed every absence. Even if Milo handled the work. Even if the house ran smoothly. Even if nothing collapsed while I was gone. Wolves still watched.

Wolves still talked.

But Radimir did not understand the difference between leaving because you were carel ess and leaving because you were chasing something worth more than comfort. He did

not know what it felt like to have Arya under your skin like an ache. He did not know w

hat it felt like to look at a woman broken by other people’s ambition and want to rebuild

her with your own hands.

Or maybe he had once.

Maybe he had simply forgotten.

I stayed quiet long enough for his eyes to sharpen.

Then, like always, he crossed the line when silence denied him the reaction he wanted.

His lip curled a little.

“And why would you bring that stray Maxwell picked up into this house?”

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The word stray hit me like a slap.

My jaw locked.

Radimir leaned back like he was pleased with himself.

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“That is an insult to Blackbirth,” he said. “I heard she used to be a rogue’s Luna.” His

eyes turned colder. “And now you are picking up what a rogue-turned-Alpha discarded.”

That was enough.

I stood.

Not slowly. Not politely.

I crossed the room in two strides and planted both palms on the desk, leaning in close

enough for him to feel exactly what was coming off me.

“Say her name with respect.”

Radimir’s eyes widened for the briefest second, then hardened.

“I’m your regent,” he snapped. “You forget yourself.”

I did not move back.

My voice stayed low. Controlled. The way it always did when I was nearest to violence.

“You have no right to lecture me on who I choose to be with,” I said. “And you will not

speak of Arya like she is dirt.’

Radimir’s face reddened at once.

“You will be polite,” he barked. “You are my successor. I expect you to behave properly. I

expect you to stop embarrassing this house with,

“With what?” I cut in. “With choosing my mate?”

The word mate burned in my mouth.

Radimir’s eyes flashed.

“That woman is not fit for, ”

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“The next time you insult her,” I said, “I won’t be polite.”

The silence after that was sharp enough to draw blood.

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Radimir stared at me like he could not decide whether he was more shocked or more

furious.

Then fury won.

“How dare you threaten me in my own office?”

I let out a quiet breath. It almost sounded like a laugh, but there was no warmth in it.

“This is not your office.”

Radimir went still.