Beneath the Alpha's Moon
Chapter 270: Shared Pages and Stolen Glances

Chapter 270: Shared Pages and Stolen Glances

Nova’s POV

Eldur kissed my hand in front of everyone. In front of everyone.

I replayed it a hundred times in my head, even after class ended. The way his eyes locked onto mine, like I was something rare and precious. Like he saw me. I don’t care how dramatic that sounds—it’s true. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn’t just existing in someone else’s world. I was chosen.

And by Eldur Daegon, of all people.

The same Eldur who usually glared at people for breathing too loud in the library. The same Eldur who once told a substitute teacher to "cease their pitiful droning" and then walked out like some sort of gothic warlock with a schedule. I mean, the man drinks black coffee like it’s the blood of his enemies.

But when he looked at me... he turned soft. Not weak. Just... gentle. And that made it hit even harder.

I practically floated through the rest of the day. Lara kept throwing me smug side-eyes like, "Oh, you’re glowing? Must be nice." And I didn’t even elbow her for it this time. I just smiled. A dumb, fluttery, can’t-stop-smiling kind of smile.

After class, I went home to freshen up. My apartment was its usual chaos: Lara had left her towel on my bed again (because apparently, her bed is lava), and she forgot to do the dishes. Again.

But none of that mattered. Because Eldur was picking me up.

I wore my favorite oversized sweater, the soft cream one that made me feel like a walking marshmallow, and my favorite sneakers that had just the right amount of personality. I kept my makeup light—just enough to look like I’d made an effort, not enough to look like I cared.

My phone buzzed.

Eldur: "I’m outside."

Two words. Still managed to make my heart do a stupid leap.

I ran down the stairs, nearly tripping over the last one because of course I did. And there he was—leaning against the railing, white hair gleaming like snow in the evening light, earbuds already in, one hand tucked in his coat pocket, the other holding his phone like the brooding anime character he absolutely is.

"You look..." he began, eyes scanning me slowly, "very... soft."

I blinked. "Soft?"

"In a good way," he added quickly, and then, after a pause, "Like a well-written poem."

I laughed. "That might be the strangest compliment I’ve ever gotten."

He tilted his head. "Then I’ll consider it a success."

God help me, I liked him so much it hurt.

We were heading to work. We took the bus together—just like any normal couple. Except nothing about being with Eldur felt normal. It felt like a secret I wanted to tell the whole world.

The bus was mostly empty, just a few people scrolling through their phones, lost in their own little worlds. Eldur and I slid into the seats near the back. He offered me one of his earbuds, and we both leaned in close, listening to some haunting instrumental piece that sounded like it belonged in a dramatic fantasy movie.

As the music swelled, I rested my head on his shoulder. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t stiffen. He just—breathed out softly and leaned into me.

His hand found mine and held it like he was anchoring himself to something real.

We didn’t talk.

We didn’t need to.

The music did all the talking.

It said everything I couldn’t.

The bookstore looked like it always did—rows of worn wood, soft yellow lights, the scent of aged paper and fresh ink hanging in the air. But today, it felt different.

It felt... like home.

Ever since I started working here, I thought I’d be happier. I mean, books? My literal dream. But Eldur wouldn’t talk to me then. He’d walk past me like I was invisible. I’d catch glimpses of him through the shelves, expression unreadable, voice low and deliberate when he spoke to others.

Back then, I told myself it didn’t hurt.

It did.

But today?

Today, he walked in beside me.

Today, he looked at me like I was someone he chose to stand next to.

And that changed everything.

"Help me shelve these?" I asked, cradling a stack of hardcovers against my chest.

Eldur nodded, already reaching to take half from me. "You shouldn’t carry heavy things," he muttered.

I grinned. "Why? You afraid I’ll get a paper cut and bleed out?"

He gave me a long-suffering look. "Yes."

We worked side by side, sliding books into place. Occasionally, a customer would wander in, and we’d recommend titles. Eldur, somehow, was amazing at it. He’d just look at someone and know exactly what they needed.

"Try this," he said to a flustered teenager holding a copy of a vampire romance. "It has better pacing. And a less annoying protagonist."

The girl blinked, then slowly nodded like she’d been hit with divine wisdom.

"You’re like a book wizard," I whispered.

He gave me a sly smile. "That’s because I am."

I laughed. "Sure. Next you’ll tell me you can teleport."

He looked away, biting back a smirk.

I frowned. "Wait. That was a joke."

"...Of course," he said smoothly. "A joke."

I squinted at him. He winked.

What.

We found a quiet spot near the back, where the light hit just right and the old armchairs swallowed you whole. I curled up in one, and Eldur sat opposite me, holding out a battered fantasy novel.

"Read this," he said. "Page 112 is where it gets... good."

"Why page 112?"

He tilted his head. "That’s when the hero first realizes he can’t run from his feelings anymore."

I swallowed.

My cheeks flushed.

I opened the book.

And for a while, we read in silence, stealing glances at each other over the pages.

I caught him watching me once. Just watching. Like he was trying to memorize the curve of my smile or the way my lashes moved.

I couldn’t help it—my smile stretched wider and the best part was, he didn’t look away.

But of course... peace is a fragile thing. And hers came in stilettos.

Amara.

She didn’t need an introduction. The temperature just dropped five degrees, the lights dimmed like a dramatic spotlight was prepping for her grand entrance, and suddenly, the air was too thick to breathe. She didn’t speak—not to me, not to him—but I felt her presence like static before a storm.

You ever get that feeling someone’s staring at you so hard it burns your skin?

Yeah.

That was her.

Every time I glanced up, she was there. Watching. Eyebrows raised, lips pursed, eyes full of venom and barely disguised smugness. Like I was a math problem she couldn’t solve—and that made her furious.

At first, I told myself I was being paranoid.

But then... she "accidentally" brushed past us and knocked over an entire stack of books with the elegance of a cat on roller skates.

Eldur didn’t even flinch. He didn’t even look up. He just turned a page and said with the most casual deadpan, "Graceful as always."

I swear I choked on my laugh. Loudly.

I tried to ignore her, I did. I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of seeing me flinch. But the way she looked at me wasn’t just bitter ex-girlfriend energy—it was territorial. Like I had something she thought belonged to her.

But here’s the thing, princess.

You’re not wrong.

I do have him.

Eldur’s mine. And no amount of model-level cheekbones, slow-motion hair flips, or chaotic energy disguised as charm was going to change that.

The rest of the afternoon passed in soft golden moments—quiet smiles, warm light from the windows, pages rustling like whispered secrets. Customers came and went. Eldur and I helped them find their stories like we were writing our own in the margins.

And as the sun slipped lower and the crowd thinned, I felt it—that gentle, electric stillness that only comes with dusk and slow-dancing hearts.

Eldur looked at me then, like I’d said something without opening my mouth.

"You’re smiling," he said quietly.

I shrugged, still smiling. "I’m happy."

His silver eyes held me like they could read my entire soul. He didn’t say anything for a second. Then, with a voice so soft it almost didn’t exist, he asked, "Is it... because of me?"

I nodded. No hesitation. "Mostly, yeah."

Something shifted in his face—not much, just a flicker. But it was enough to see the storm behind his stillness. He leaned in a little, brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear like it was his job to memorize where everything belonged.

"You make me feel..." I paused, swallowing the lump in my throat, "seen. Like I’m not invisible in my own story anymore."

His eyes softened.

"I see you, Nova," he whispered. "More than you know."

I didn’t know what to say to that. My brain had short-circuited and was currently playing soft romantic background music on loop.

I wanted to ask him what he meant—what he really meant. But before I could, Amara shot me another one of her death-ray glares from across the store.

And without missing a beat, Eldur leaned in just a little closer. His voice was honey and steel.

"Ignore her," he said. "She doesn’t exist in the world I’m building."

And that?

That was the moment I knew.

There was still so much I didn’t understand about him. So many parts of Eldur that remained locked behind his silver gaze and perfect mystery. But this—this moment, this look, this unshakable certainty he carried?

This was real.

Whatever secrets he held, I wasn’t afraid of them.

Because this didn’t feel like just a crush.

It felt like a beginning.

And I was all in.