Beneath the Alpha's Moon
Chapter 304: A Family

Chapter 304: A Family

Nova’s POV

When I first opened my eyes, I thought I was dreaming. Everything felt hazy—like I was underwater, floating between sleep and waking. Then I heard him.

"Nova?!"

His voice was hoarse, raw, like he hadn’t spoken in days. When I blinked and saw his face—Eldur’s face—hovering above me with silver eyes wide open and wild—I knew it was real. And the first word that slipped from my cracked lips was his name.

Everything after that felt like a blur of sounds and colors.

Mai’s scream made me flinch. Ollie’s entrance with cake made me laugh even though my body felt too weak to manage it. And Liam’s tight, bouncing hug with Mai was somehow the most ridiculous and sweetest thing I’d seen in a while.

But nothing compared to the way Eldur collapsed to his knees, his head buried in my lap like he was anchoring himself to the world again.

"I wasn’t going to leave you," I whispered, though I wasn’t even sure why I had to say it. Maybe to convince myself, maybe because I saw how lost he looked. I ran my fingers through his white hair, his warmth grounding me.

And he whispered back, "You came back," like I had done something miraculous.

Later that night, when everyone had finally stopped acting like I was made of glass—or, at least, when Juliette, Eldur’s stunning and intimidating mother, took over my pillow rearrangement duties—I felt normal again.

Or at least as normal as one can feel after waking up in what appears to be a mansion full of werewolves, vampires, and sarcasm.

"Careful," I teased Eldur as he hovered by my side with a bowl of soup like it was a bomb. "I might sneeze and combust."

"You’re not funny," he muttered, but he was trying not to smile. His voice still had that edge—always a little sharp—but I’d learned to read between the lines with him.

I took a spoonful and made a face. "Is this chicken or sorrow?"

"It’s literally chicken and sorrow. Mai cooked it."

"HEY!" came Mai’s voice from the hallway.

Eldur smirked.

It felt good—laughing. Being here. Alive. Safe.

"Do you want me to heat it up?" he asked, almost too quietly.

"No. It’s perfect," I said, looking at him. "You’ve been here the whole time?"

Eldur sat on the edge of the bed, his hand finding mine again, his thumb stroking small circles on the back of it.

"I never left."

There was something heavy behind those words. Something terrifying. He looked... tired. Not physically—no, he still looked like the perfect storm he always did, white hair falling into silver eyes, his dark clothes and sharp jaw making him look like some fallen prince. But his eyes—his eyes carried the weight of tiredness.

"Eldur," I said gently, "what happened to me?"

He looked down, and I saw his jaw clench.

"You were attacked," he said finally. "Not by anyone you need to worry about anymore. They’re... handled."

Something in his voice made my skin prickle.

"Handled?" I asked.

"I took care of it."

There was no pause. No flicker of doubt. Just cold, unshakable resolve. And for a heartbeat, it terrified me—how far he was willing to go, how much darkness he was willing to wade through... for me. I kept dragging him into chaos, making everything messier. So why did he still choose me, over and over again?

But then... he looked at me.

And just like that, the fear slipped away.

Because in those silver eyes, I didn’t see a monster.

I saw pain. Desperation. Love—raw, relentless love.

"I didn’t think I could lose you," he said softly. "I would’ve ripped the world apart."

"Was I... really that bad?" I asked.

Eldur’s lips curled into a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "You flatlined. Twice."

A breath caught in my throat. "Oh," I exhaled, barely able to process that.

Without a word, he lifted my hand and pressed a gentle kiss to my knuckles. "But you didn’t give up," he murmured. "And neither did I."

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. It wrapped around us like a soft blanket, thick with unspoken emotions. From downstairs, I could hear Mai arguing with Ollie—something ridiculous about someone leaving socks on the kitchen counter again—and Liam, ever the peacemaker, trying to play referee. His voice had this golden retriever energy, full of patience and mild panic.

I smiled faintly. I hadn’t realized how thin the palace walls were. Or maybe it was just how loud love sounded when it was real.

Still... I hated the wheelchair.

The way it squeaked whenever I moved. The way it made me feel smaller, breakable. Like some glass doll pretending to be iron. I hated how people looked at me with too much concern, too much carefulness. I hated the reminder that I wasn’t strong—not yet.

But even in that frustration, in all my bitterness and vulnerability, I couldn’t feel entirely miserable.

Because Eldur was with me.

Always.

Every breath, every turn, every awkward shuffle—I never moved without him. He was there, walking just ahead or behind, eyes sharp like he expected the world to try and snatch me away again. His presence was like a forcefield, cold to everyone else but warm to me. Safe.

I still remembered that first time I asked to go downstairs after being cooped up in bed too long. I expected him to wheel me down. Instead, he picked me up.

Like it was nothing.

As if I weighed less than his guilt.

He carried me down those marble steps like I was the most precious thing he’d ever touched. There was something in the way his arms cradled me—fierce, careful, reverent. I remember pressing my ear to his chest just to listen. His heartbeat was wild, steady, alive. It was the only rhythm I needed to feel real again.

And then... there was this place.

This castle of shadows and whispered magic. This strange, surreal world full of people who weren’t quite people. Yet here, for the first time in my entire life... I was loved.

Not tolerated. Not a burden. Not someone to be endured with heavy sighs.

I was seen. Wanted. Cared for.

Eldur’s mother would sit beside me for hours, brushing through my mess of hair with this tender patience I didn’t even know mothers could have. She called me "star-girl." I never had the courage to ask why, but it made my cheeks glow every time. I didn’t feel worthy of a name like that.

But she said it like she meant it.

Eldur’s father, the charming vampire who moved like liquid elegance, always made sure I had my favorite snacks, even when I didn’t know what I wanted. He spoke with this old-soul calmness that made me feel like nothing bad could touch me if he was in the room. He once told me, "You have a soul that calms the wild in my son, Nova. That makes you more powerful than any creature I’ve ever known." Then he winked and handed me a bowl of strawberries dipped in literal gold dust.

Even Eldur’s Elizabeth—who could make a grown Alpha cry with a single glare—would read to me at night when I couldn’t sleep. She always pretended it was for me, but I knew she liked it too. She stayed behind even when the others left, and she rarely left my side, watching me with these curious eyes like she knew something I didn’t.

Uncle Lucian and Auntie Teresa, literal billionaires with empires under their names, had made it their mission to spoil me. They bought me a wardrobe so big that I get confused of what to wear—and I still wore Eldur’s sweatshirts most of the time. Teresa tried to teach me how to do a smoky eye. I ended up looking like a raccoon. We laughed so hard I nearly fell off my chair.

It was insane. Wild. Terrifying.

But it was the happiest I had ever been.

I’d never had a family before.

Not since Mom left us to chase fame, not since Dad stumbled into darkness and never came back out.

But here... in this strange house filled with werewolves and vampires and ancient bloodlines and magic I couldn’t begin to understand... I had people fighting to push me in my wheelchair just because they wanted to be close.

They fought over who got to feed me.

Who got to braid my hair.

Who got to carry me upstairs.

Even when I was asleep, someone was always there—watching me like I was a fragile princess under a curse. It was weird at first. Terrifying, even. But... then it wasn’t. Then it just felt like love.

Eldur hated having to share me. He’d literally growl when someone else picked me up before he could. Adrian would just smirk and say, "Jealousy is very unbecoming of a Daegon." Juliette would cackle and say, "He gets it from my side."

I’d never felt so... treasured.

A week later, things shifted.

Mai, Liam, and Ollie had to go back to their pack life. The goodbye was dramatic and full of kisses and awkward attempts to lift me out of the chair. Mai cried, then threatened Eldur with a fork if he didn’t take good care of me. Liam promised to visit. Ollie forgot his backpack and had to be teleported back by Mai.

Lucian and Teresa joined their children, but not without giving me enough jewelry to make me look like an empress and enough snacks to feed a small nation. Teresa kissed my forehead and whispered, "You’re not just Eldur’s anymore. You’re ours too."

I cried after they left. Quietly. In the hallway, behind the giant stone pillar.

Elizabeth found me. She didn’t say anything—just sat down beside me and handed me a tissue like she knew.

Life settled into a strange rhythm.

Mornings with Elizabeth. Mid-day naps. Long walks in the garden with Eldur—okay, he walked, I wheeled—and long conversations where he’d tell me about the stars or magic or the things he wanted to show me one day.

But something weird was happening.

My hearing was sharper. Like... weirdly sharp. I could hear Elizabeth humming down the hall when I was in the library. I smelled Adrian’s cologne before he entered the room. And once—I swear—I told a maid exactly where Eldur was just by smelling his sweet spicy scent from the garden. It was like I was a bloodhound or something.

I didn’t say anything, though. I mean, I was clearly overwhelmed. The whole "supernatural" thing was rubbing off on me. That had to be it. Right?

Humans don’t just... develop superpowers. That’s not how it works.

Right?

One afternoon, I rolled out into the sunroom, where Eldur was pacing. He looked up the second I entered. His whole face changed.

"Hey," I said, trying not to smile at how dramatic he looked just from seeing me.

"You’re up early," he said, walking over.

"I didn’t want to miss another minute with you." I grinned, and he blushed slightly. Eldur Daegon, destroyer of worlds, was a blusher. Only for me.

He knelt beside me, brushing my hair behind my ear. "What’s on your mind?"

"I want to go back to school."

He blinked. "What?"

"I want to go back to school," I repeated. "I miss Lara. I miss classes. I want to feel normal again, Eldur."

He tilted his head. "Do you think you’ll be ok? With... everything."

I glanced away. "I know I initially avoided going back because I was afraid—afraid of how people would look at me in a wheelchair. But I’m done hiding. I’m done being afraid while everyone else keeps living their lives."

He was silent for a long time.

Then, quietly, "Okay."

My eyes snapped to him. "Wait, really?"

He smiled. "Nova, you could tell me you wanted to become a skydiving instructor and I’d still say okay—as long as I’m with you."

I laughed. "You? In a parachute?"

"I’d fly us down myself."

"Of course you would." I rolled my eyes. "All mysterious and majestic and totally incapable of being normal."

His eyes softened. "You don’t have to be normal, Nova. You’re already perfect."

I swallowed hard. "Eldur..."

He stood and leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine. "We’ll go back. Every class, every hallway—I’ll be there. You’ll never be alone again."

My heart thudded. "Thank you."

He pulled back, brushing his fingers along my cheek. "Just one condition."

"What?"

"You have to keep wearing my sweatshirts."

I laughed through my tears. "Deal."