The Heartless Alpha’s Beloved Luna (Avery and Gideon) novel Chapter 475

Avery’s POV

The Moonveil plants sat in fresh terracotta pots on my worktable in Sebastian’s study. Most hadn’t survived the journey, wilting before we made it back last night, but two survived being repotted. Their flowers were closed up behind dark green leaves at this hour, although I had just recently found out that an adequate amount of water droplets hitting the leaves made the pitcher-shaped petals pop open slightly, thinking that there was rain.

I scratched my head as I leaned over my desk, watching the liquid swirl. My stomach growled; it was past noon, but I hadn’t eaten yet, and I hadn’t slept, either. I did try to do both of those things, but I just couldn’t. My mind was too busy racing with the possibilities, a constant barrage of chemical symbols and equations blocking out all other thoughts.

I had been at this for hours now, ever since we arrived, carefully working to extract the essence from the petals and mix it with a carrier oil. The process was delicate. One miscalculation, and the whole thing could be useless. Or worse, harmful. I had already messed up twice and I wasn’t about to let it happen again.

Finally, thank the Goddess, this time seemed to be stickign so far.

Once the centrifuge clicked off, I held up the small glass vial and examined the liquid inside. It was pale and slightly luminescent, with a delicate scent that wafted out when I uncorked it. I’d added a few other compounds to stabilize it, turning it into a tincture that would be easier for Bjorn to take.

Now came the hard part: actually getting him to take it, and playing the waiting game while it kicked in.

I capped the vial again and stood, my back cracking from being hunched over the table for so long. The house was quiet. Sebastian had left early for some pack business, leaving me to my own devices. After last night, I needed that, and I appreciated that he knew well enough not to bother me with questions about our relationship today. Questions that I really did not want to answer right now, even though I knew what I was going to have to say again.

I walked upstairs to Bjorn’s room and pushed the door open quietly.

He was half asleep, his breathing shallow and ragged. His face was pale and his skin was slick with sweat. The cough had gotten worse overnight, it seemed. He couldn’t seem to draw in a full breath anymore without it making a wet, rattling sound that never failed to make tears prick at my eyes.

I sat on the edge of his bed and placed my hand on his forehead. He was warm, but not feverish. That was good, at least.

His eyes cracked open.

“Hey, buddy. I have something for you to take,” I said, holding up the vial. “It’s going to taste weird, but I need you to swallow it. Can you do that for me?”

He looked warily at the bottle, but then nodded weakly.

I uncapped the vial and tilted it to his lips. He swallowed without complaint, his face scrunching up at the taste.

“Good,” I said, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. “Go back to sleep now.”

His eyes drifted shut again.

I stayed there, sitting on the edge of the bed with my hand resting on his arm, waiting. The minutes stretched out. Five. Ten. Fifteen. Bjorn’s breathing didn’t change. His cough didn’t stop. My stomach twisted.

What if it didn’t work, I thought? What if I’d gotten it wrong? What if the dream had just been my desperate mind conjuring up false hope?

I pressed my fingers to his wrist, feeling for his pulse. It was steady, if a little weak.

Twenty minutes passed.

Finally, his breathing slowed. The ragged sound of it smoothed out, becoming deeper and less wet. The cough that had been rattling his chest for days went quiet, although he still wheezed on occasion.

I held my breath, afraid to move, afraid that any small disturbance would break the peace. But Bjorn continued to rest, and eventually, I exhaled, smiling wanly as I looked down at him.

It worked. The medicine worked. For now, at least.

Just then, I heard a knock at the door.

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