Beneath the Alpha's Moon
Chapter 261: Fairytales

Chapter 261: Fairytales

Nova’s POV

I didn’t mean to stay leaning on Eldur’s shoulder.

Okay, maybe I did. Just a little.

There was something about the way Eldur sat—so still, like a statue that just happened to breathe. I kept telling myself I’d straighten up any second now, make some awkward joke, or ask him if he was tired of being my very dramatic pillow.

But... I didn’t.

Because somehow, being pressed into his side felt safer than I’d felt in a very long time.

His coat smelled really nice. And his shoulder was warm, too warm for the chilly breeze sneaking through the broken trees, but I didn’t question it. I just stayed there, head tucked against him like a song I didn’t want to end.

For a while, we just sat in silence. Until Eldur broke it—with the most unexpected thing.

"There’s a story," he began, voice so low it melted into my skin like heat, "about a man who could shift into a wolf the size of a bear. Not just during a full moon—but whenever he wanted. He could hear whispers from miles away and run faster than a speeding car. The villagers called him a monster."

I snorted. "A werewolf? Seriously?"

He didn’t flinch. "He wasn’t a monster. He protected the same villagers who feared him. He stood between them and things they didn’t even know existed."

"And let me guess, he did all that while looking unreasonably hot in a leather jacket?"

Eldur gave a small laugh, like I’d surprised him. "Actually, he preferred flannel. Said leather chafed."

I bit my lip to stop the laugh rising in my throat, but it escaped anyway. "Okay, okay, that’s fair. Werewolf lumberjack. I can work with that."

He turned slightly, silver eyes shining with a strange kind of amusement. "There were others too. A girl who could control fire with a flick of her hand. A boy who could speak to trees. A clan of witches who could rewrite time—but only by sacrificing their memories."

My brows shot up. "That’s oddly specific."

"I like stories with consequences."

There was something in his voice then—something distant and bitter and beautiful. I leaned more into him, pretending I didn’t feel the weight in his words.

"You’re weird," I said gently.

"Thank you."

"That wasn’t a compliment."

"I know."

Another laugh. God, it felt good to laugh again. Especially with him.

"So what happened to them?" I asked, my voice soft, half-drowsy. "The magical folk."

"Some lived. Some didn’t. Most of them faded into myth. People stopped believing, so the magic faded. But the truth is... they never left. They just learned how to hide."

I tilted my head up to look at him. His face was calm. "You sound like you actually believe this stuff."

He met my gaze without blinking. "What if I did?"

I chuckled. "Then I’d say you’ve watched way too many fantasy movies and need to get out more."

"I do get out. I’m here, aren’t I?"

"Touché."

His lips curved slightly, just barely. "Would you be scared... if magic was real?"

I thought for a second. "Honestly? No. I think I’d be more surprised if it wasn’t. I mean, look at the world. The moon pulls oceans. Bees understand geometry. And you—"

I stopped myself. Too fast. Too honest.

His brow arched. "Me?"

I sighed and tucked my face back against his shoulder. "You’re too good to be real, Eldur. That’s what scares me."

The silence that followed was heavier than before. I could hear his breath, deep and slow, like he was grounding himself.

"You think I’m good?" he asked quietly.

"Don’t tell me you didn’t know that."

"I’ve never... been told that. Not in the way you mean."

I pulled back just enough to see his face. There was a tightness around his eyes. Like my words didn’t sit easily in his chest.

"Well," I said, voice softer than I meant, "I think you’re good. Maybe not in a cookie-baking, golden-boy way. But in the kind of way that matters. You show up when people need you. You stay when it’s hard. You listen—even when it’s uncomfortable. And you brought a first-aid kit to a park bench."

His eyes dropped, and for the first time, I swear, Eldur looked... shy.

It was adorable.

"I don’t know how to do this," he admitted.

"Do what?"

"This... human thing. Talking. Feeling. Caring."

"You’re doing fine," I whispered.

He looked up, and our eyes locked. For a moment, something flickered between us—something that made my stomach twist and my lungs forget how to work.

"Nova," he said, like my name was something holy.

"Yeah?"

He hesitated. Then: "I wish I could tell you everything."

I blinked. "You kind of are. Through your weird stories."

He smiled faintly. "They’re not all made up."

I rolled my eyes, nudging him with my elbow. "Sure they’re not. And I’m the Queen of the Moon."

He chuckled. "You’d make a good queen. Stubborn. Mouthy."

"Flattered," I deadpanned.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached into his coat again and pulled out... a packet of hot cocoa mix?

I gaped. "Do you just keep a pantry in there or what?"

"I came prepared," he said, dead serious.

"For what? A winter apocalypse?"

"I wasn’t sure how long we’d be out here. I figured warm drinks might help."

I stared at him, then laughed so hard I nearly fell off the bench.

"God, you’re unreal. Like, you’re this close to being a Pinterest boyfriend."

"Is that a good thing?"

"It’s terrifying."

We sat there, sipping imaginary cocoa from invisible mugs because he didn’t actually bring a thermos (much to my dramatic disappointment). I leaned into him again, and he let me. No, he wanted me to.

And in that moment, everything else melted away. The past. The pain. The broken pieces of me I was always trying to tape back together. They didn’t disappear—but they didn’t feel as heavy. Because Eldur was holding them, too.

I glanced up at him again.

How could someone like him exist?

How could someone with eyes like starlight and a voice like velvet and a heart so careful be sitting beside me? I didn’t understand it. I didn’t trust it.

Because people like him... didn’t stay.

They got tired. They got wanted by someone better. And they left.

"Hey," Eldur said gently, pulling me back. "Where’d you go?"

"Nowhere," I said too quickly.

He tilted his head, watching me again with that unnervingly perceptive stare. "Don’t lie."

I sighed. "I was just... thinking."

"About?"

I hesitated. "About how people leave. About how I’m always the one left behind. You’re here, being all perfect and stupid and making me laugh, and I just—"

My voice cracked. Damn it.

I bit my lip, looked away.

Eldur didn’t say anything. Not at first. But then I felt his hand—warm and hesitant—slide over mine.

"Nova," he said quietly. "I’m not going anywhere."

"That’s what people say before they go."

"I’m not people."

I looked at him. "Then what are you?"

He paused, just long enough to make me wonder. Then he leaned in slightly and whispered, "A very persistent pillow, apparently."

I snorted and wiped a tear from my cheek. "You’re ridiculous."

"But I’m here."

"Yeah," I said, voice catching in my throat. "You are."

And as I leaned back into him again, letting my head rest on his shoulder, I let the silence return—this time, without fear.

Because even if the stories weren’t real, even if magic didn’t exist, something about this moment was. It was raw and honest and terrifyingly real.

I didn’t know who Eldur truly was. But I knew how he made me feel.

Safe. Seen. Wanted.

And I was beyond grateful for him.

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.