The Wolfless Contract Luna (Grace and Ethan) novel Chapter 18

**Chapter 18: Ride on Ethan**

**Grace’s Perspective**

“You remind me of someone I once knew,” he says, his voice low and contemplative.

A tightening sensation grips my throat, and I feel the weight of his words. “When I was younger, people used to say I resembled my father,” I reply, the words slipping out like a protective shield. It’s a neutral answer, one that leaves no room for further probing.

Laf’s expression remains inscrutable, a mask of ancient wisdom that reveals nothing. His gaze, however, is piercing, as if he is dissecting the very fibers of my being.

“Your eyes,” he finally states, his tone almost reverent. “That particular shade of green. It’s quite rare.”

With that, he rises, smoothing the fabric of his jacket with meticulous care, each movement deliberate and precise.

“I’ll be in touch regarding the formal hearing, Luna Grace. In the meantime, rest. Gather your evidence. Prepare yourself.” He hesitates at the threshold, a moment of gravity hanging in the air. “This won’t be an easy battle.”

“I know,” I manage to reply, a quiet resolve threading through my words.

He gives a single nod and walks out, the door clicking shut behind him. Instantly, silence envelops me, heavy and oppressive.

I gaze at the stack of legal documents strewn across the desk, my thoughts spiraling into a chaotic whirlwind.

‘Rare green eyes. Someone he knew once.’

Who could he possibly be referring to?

Questions flood my mind, but I force them aside, shoving them into the recesses of my thoughts. I have no time for enigmas right now. I need evidence—real, tangible proof that Damien has betrayed me, that he is unworthy to lead Aurorawisp.

‘Lori.’

The thought strikes me like a blow to the gut. He’s still out there, still in Darkrock, entangled in Damien’s web of warriors and Lilith’s machinations. While I sit here, cocooned in relative safety at Stellarnight, he is gathering the very proof I need.

A wave of guilt churns in my stomach.

**12:28**

**12.83%**

‘What if something happens to him? What if Damien discovers what he’s doing?’

Fear claws at my throat, sharp and suffocating.

“Grace.”

Ethan’s voice is soft, a gentle balm against my rising panic. I hadn’t even noticed him approach.

I drop my hands, feeling the weight of his concerned gaze upon me. It’s the kind of look that makes my chest constrict with warmth and anxiety all at once.

“You’re going to drive yourself mad,” he says, his tone soothing yet firm. “These past few days—everything you’ve endured—you need to take a step back. Clear your head.”

“I can’t relax,” I insist, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Not when there’s so much—”

“Which is exactly why you need to,” he interjects gently. “You’re running on fumes, Grace. Your body may have healed, but your mind is in desperate need of a break.”

I want to protest, to argue that I’m fine, that I can handle everything thrown my way.

But the undeniable truth is that I’m utterly drained—mentally, emotionally, spiritually.

“What did you have in mind?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.

A flicker of playfulness dances in his eyes, a spark that lightens the heavy atmosphere between us.

“How do you feel about going for a ride?” he asks, his casual demeanor masking the thrill of the proposal.

“On my wolf,” he adds, as if it’s the most ordinary thing in the world. “Get some fresh air. Clear your thoughts. Explore the territory.”

A jolt of excitement races through me, and my heart skips a beat.

The memory crashes over me like a wave—being seven years old, clinging to my father’s enormous grey wolf as we sped through the lush forests of Aurorawisp. The wind whipped through my hair, the warmth of his body beneath me, that exhilarating sensation of freedom, of flying without wings.

Since his passing, I haven’t dared to ride a wolf again.

**12.28**

**12.95%**

Damien never allowed me near his wolf—not once in five long years. He deemed it undignified for a Luna to ride like a child. He often reminded me that I should be grateful he even acknowledged my existence without a wolf of my own.

A sharp pang of pain lances through my chest, bitter and stinging.

Yet beneath that pain lies an insatiable hunger—a raw, aching desire to feel that freedom once more.

“Yes,” I whisper, my voice barely above a breath. “I want to.”

As we cross the grounds, the pack members’ eyes are upon us, their gazes following our every move. I can hear the whispers, the curious murmurs that ripple through the air. Ethan, however, seems unfazed, walking with a confidence that draws me in.

Then, in a fluid motion, he shifts.

Fur ripples across his skin, bones crack and reform, and in mere moments, the man I know is replaced by a magnificent midnight-black wolf, with eyes that glimmer like molten gold.

He is stunning—both beautiful and terrifying.

Ellen—that’s the name of his wolf—turns his golden gaze toward me, lowering his massive body in a clear invitation.

My hands tremble as I step closer, brushing my fingers through his thick, warm fur. The sensation sends a shiver of relief through me, loosening the tightness in my chest.

I carefully climb onto his back, positioning myself between his broad shoulder blades, my fingers tangling in his ruff.

Ellen surges forward.

Oh god—

The world blurs around me. The wind whips through my hair, my clothes billowing in the rush. I’m thrown forward, then back, the rhythm chaotic and dizzying.

‘He’s never carried anyone before.’

The realization strikes me as I nearly topple sideways. Ellen is exhilarated—too exhilarated—running full tilt with no regard for his passenger. I flatten myself against his back, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, my face buried in his fur.

I inhale deeply, the scents of pine, smoke, and something wild igniting my senses, sending my pulse racing.

“How can you be so certain?” I ask, my voice trembling with uncertainty.

“Because you deserve it.” His hands squeeze gently, grounding me. “And because I’ll make sure of it. However I can.”

In that moment, something shifts in the air between us—thick, electric, charged with raw desire.

Ethan’s hand glides from my shoulder to grip my jaw, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. His thumb traces my cheek, slow and possessive, and I tremble—heat pooling low in my belly, desire igniting my senses.

“Grace,” he growls, his voice thick with need.

Then, he claims my mouth.

His lips crash against mine, soft at first, then fervent, his tongue demanding entry. I could pull away, but I don’t. I can’t.

**12.28**

**13.31%**

I surge up on my knees, fists twisting in his shirt, and I kiss him back with an urgency that consumes me.

What begins as gentleness quickly spirals into something primal.

His tongue explores my mouth with a hunger that leaves me breathless; I suck it deeper, moaning with abandon. His hands tangle in my hair, yanking my head back as he claims every inch of me until I’m dizzy, dripping with desire, my body throbbing in response.

Reality crashes in like a tidal wave.

What the hell am I doing?

I shove against his chest, and he pulls away instantly, hands raised in surrender, both of us panting heavily.

We lock eyes, lips bruised and wild.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, breathless. “I shouldn’t—”

“I sucked your tongue like I needed it to breathe,” I retort, my voice cracking, thighs slick with want. “I shouldn’t have—”

Guilt floods through me, hot and nauseating. I’m still married. Still technically bound to Damien, even if the bond is fraying.

‘With Ethan. With another Alpha.’

Shame burns my cheeks.

But beneath that shame is an undeniable, terrifying desire.

My phone buzzes, cutting through the tension like a knife.

We both freeze.

With trembling hands, I pull it from my pocket. An unknown number. A message:

**I caught him. If you don’t want him dead, come alone to the third outpost by the Black Forest border. The small cabin beside it.**

My blood turns to ice.