Beneath the Alpha's Moon
Chapter 111: A Journey Through Time

Chapter 111: A Journey Through Time

ADRIAN’S P.O.V.

The air in the cave was heavy, humming with a tension that neither of us seemed entirely ready to break. Juliette’s lips hovered so close to mine that I could feel the warmth of her breath. Her eyes, pools of deep amber brown, flickered between uncertainty and resolve. I wanted to kiss her—oh, how I wanted to—but something held me back. Instead, I closed the distance between us and pressed my lips softly to her forehead.

Her skin was warm, grounding, and the gesture felt more intimate than any kiss ever could. When I pulled back, her expression was unreadable for a moment before she raised an eyebrow and smirked.

"Let me guess," she said dryly. "That was supposed to make me fall head over heels for you?"

I chuckled, the sound bouncing off the cavern walls. "It wasn’t my intention to rush your descent, darling. But should you choose to fall, I’ll catch you."

Juliette rolled her eyes, her lips twitching as she fought a smile. "You’re so full of yourself. I’d tell you to get over it, but I’m starting to think your ego might be taller than this cave."

Leaning against the cave wall, I gestured for her to sit beside me. She plopped down, unceremoniously, crossing her legs and letting out a small huff. The soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the cave’s opening framed her features, and I couldn’t help but stare.

"What?" she asked, catching me in the act.

"Nothing," I said, smiling softly. "Just admiring the view."

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t dignify my comment with a response. Instead, she turned her gaze outward, where the stars blanketed the sky. For a while, we sat in silence, staring out at the shimmering pool of water illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight streaming through the cracks in the cave. The sound of the trickling stream and the gentle rustle of leaves outside filled the quiet, creating a moment of peace that felt rare and precious.

After a while, Juliette turned to me, her voice softer now. "Adrian, can I ask you something? And you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to."

I glanced at her, my lips curling into a gentle smile. "You can ask me anything, Juliette. You already know that."

She hesitated, fiddling with a loose strand of her brown hair. "How did you... become what you are? A vampire, I mean."

The question wasn’t unexpected, but it still brought a heaviness to my chest. I gazed at her for a moment, taking in the way the crystal lights danced across her face, her features so fierce and yet so tender. Despite the bitter memories her question unearthed, I found myself wanting to share them with her. If anyone deserved to know my story, it was Juliette.

"Before I answer," I said softly, "may I take your hand?"

She blinked at me, clearly surprised by the request, but then she nodded, slipping her hand into mine. The warmth of her touch was always startling, a stark contrast to the coolness of my skin. I held her hand carefully, as though it were a treasure too precious to break.

"Would you prefer I tell you with words," I asked, my voice as calm as the still water before us, "or would you rather see it for yourself?"

Her eyes widened slightly, curiosity and caution battling within her. "See it, like when you showed me your family moments ago?" she echoed.

I nodded. "I can share my memories with you. But I must warn you—they aren’t pleasant. Some of them might even frighten you. Are you sure you’re ready for that?"

She scoffed, the sound full of that fiery confidence I admired. "Adrian Daegon, if you ever cradle me like some fragile damsel again, I’ll punch you in the jaw. I’m stronger than you think. Show me."

Her words sparked something in me—excitement, admiration, and a love I hadn’t known I was capable of feeling. I leaned closer, my voice dropping to a near-whisper. "You continue to surprise me, Juliette. Close your eyes, and I’ll take you there."

She obeyed, her lashes fluttering shut, and I placed my other free hand gently over hers. Drawing on the ancient power within me, I let the memories flow, pulling her into the depths of my past.

The first memory came rushing in, vivid and haunting. We stood in a dimly lit room, the scent of pine and wood smoke filling the air. Juliette’s grip on my hand tightened as she looked around, her eyes landing on the boy lying pale and frail on the bed.

"That’s you?" She murmured, her voice tinged with awe and sorrow. "You look so... small."

I nodded, my gaze fixed on the scene. "I was fifteen. That was the sickbed where I spent most of my days back then."

Around the bed were my family: my father, Alexander, tall and commanding even in his worry; my mother, Seraphina, her kind eyes now filled with tears; and my siblings—Mara, ever poised and wise; Dorian, whose mischievous demeanor was replaced by concern; wild Evanna; gentle Elias, his gaze fixed on sadly on me; and little Clara, clutching her doll like it could protect us all.

"We need a solution," my father muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. "We can’t let him waste away like this."

My mother’s voice trembled as she replied. "There’s someone who might help. That woman... she promised—" Juliette watched as my mother wept, clutching my hand on the bed.

"And you think that woman can help?" my father snapped, his voice sharp with frustration. "Seraphina, the entire village whispers about her being a witch! A wicked one, at that!"

"Alex," my mother pleaded, "what choice do we have? He’s dying!"

The memory shifted, the surroundings melting into a bright, sunny yard outside our small home. Fifteen-year-old me sat on the ground, laughing as I played with Clara. Her laughter was infectious, her small hands tugging on my shirt as she demanded my attention.

"I remember this," I told Juliette, my voice tinged with bittersweet nostalgia. "It was one of the rare days I felt well enough to play with her."

But the laughter was short-lived. Young me suddenly clutched his chest, a strangled cry escaping his lips as he collapsed to the ground. Clara, only five years old, began to cry, her tiny hands trying to shake me awake.

Juliette gasped beside me, her grip on my hand tightening. "Adrian—"

Before she could finish, the air shifted, and a figure appeared—a woman shrouded in a dark cloak, her piercing eyes locking onto the two crying siblings.

"It’s her. I whispered to Juliette," The one my mother mentioned earlier."

The "witch" had arrived.

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