Beneath the Alpha's Moon
Chapter 307: A Thousand Times Yes

Chapter 307: A Thousand Times Yes

Nova’s POV

I never knew magic could feel like love draped in warmth and kindness. The morning after Elizabeth checked in on me, Eldur handed me a velvet box lined with starry silk, just before we headed off to school. "For your eyes," he said with a quiet smile. In that moment, I knew—I was going to love this man for the rest of my life. And if what he said about my immortality was true, that might just be forever.

Inside were glasses—no, not just glasses. They shimmered faintly under the light, the lenses tinted with a pearly glow. The frame was silver, impossibly lightweight, and cool to the touch.

"They’ll protect your eyes," he said, brushing a strand of hair from my face with fingers that lingered. "From the visions. The sharpness. It should dull the pain."

I blinked up at him. "You made these?"

He gave a one-shouldered shrug. "Pulled from starlight and tempered with runestone dust. Took me all night."

"All night?"

"Don’t look too impressed. I also drank four cups of firebrew and threatened to curse the spectacles when they wouldn’t adjust to your aura."

I laughed—God, I needed to laugh—and slipped them on. The world softened at once. No more stabbing clarity. No more burning in my skull when I looked at a faraway street sign or counted every eyelash on my classmate’s face. I could see. Just enough. Just right.

"You’re a miracle worker," I whispered.

He smirked, but there was something tight around his mouth. "Don’t forget the ear muffins."

Oh. Right.

I reached for them in my bag—soft and silver-threaded, just like before. They dulled the noise, the painful sensitivity to sound, turning the world into a muted hum that didn’t hurt anymore.

Thanks to Eldur, I was ready to face the day.

School was... manageable. Barely. The glasses helped, and so did the muffins, and I tried not to think about the way people stared. Not because I was in a wheelchair—that part they seemed to ignore, unlike yesterday—but because of Eldur.

He was glued to my side. Every step, every hallway, every class break. Always with a hand resting lightly on my shoulder or pushing my chair with deliberate gentleness. The girls whispered when we passed. Some not even bothering to whisper.

"Why her?"

"She must have some crazy spell on him."

"Maybe she put a spell on him. He doesn’t look at anyone else like that."

I’d be lying if I said it didn’t sting. I wasn’t pretty like them. I didn’t glide when I walked—hell, I didn’t walk at all anymore. But Eldur didn’t seem to notice them. Or maybe he just didn’t care. His silver eyes were always on me.

And yet...

Something has been off since Elizabeth’s visit yesterday .

I saw it in the way he stared out windows when he thought I wasn’t watching. The way his hand would tighten just slightly before he touched mine. The way his lips hovered in half-said words.

At work—our little bookshop where magic and mundane met in the dusty corners of old pages—he was the same. Present, but somewhere else. He’d shelve books backward, forget to put the sign on the door, and once brewed tea with salt instead of sugar.

When I asked, he smiled. That kind of smile that tries too hard to convince you it’s real.

"I’m fine, Nova."

But I knew better.

And that was the beginning of the spiral.

The week dragged like a ghost pulling chains behind it. Each day heavier than the last. Eldur was still sweet—still attentive—but distant in a way that made me ache.

What if he was embarrassed of me being in a wheelchair?

That thought buried itself in my brain like rot.

What if... being with someone like me wasn’t what he wanted anymore? What if he realized I couldn’t keep up with him, couldn’t match his world?

I hated myself for thinking it. For letting those ugly doubts creep in. But late at night, when I was alone in bed and staring at the ceiling with the glasses beside me and the world muffled, it was all I could think about.

I started trying harder. Being sweeter. Laughing at his dry jokes a little too loudly. Touching him more—light brushes, kisses that lingered, compliments whispered against his throat when we were alone.

He smiled... but never fully.

He held me... but I could feel the weight in him, the storm behind his silence.

It didn’t work.

None of it worked.

And one night, I broke.

It was past midnight. The bookshop was closed. Lara was out with Ollie after she’d sworn she’d never text him again. And I was sitting in the dark store, staring at nothing.

My hands were shaking.

I didn’t even know why I’d come here. Maybe because the shop felt safer than my room. Maybe because it still smelled like him—old pages and sandalwood and something sharp and clean, like winter air.

I pulled my knees up as far as they could go, wrapping my arms around them. I didn’t cry. Not yet. I didn’t want to cry.

But God, I was so tired of feeling not enough.

So I started talking. To the dark. To myself. Maybe to him, if he was listening somehow.

"I know something’s wrong. I’m not stupid, Eldur. You think I don’t notice when your eyes go distant, when you hold me like I might break into pieces you don’t want to pick up?"

My voice cracked. I clenched my jaw and kept going.

"I know I’m not perfect. I know I’m not magical or powerful or graceful. I know people look at us and wonder why you’re with me. I wonder that too sometimes."

The silence pressed in harder.

"I know you wouldn’t say it even if it were true. You’d never hurt me like that. But I also know you’ve changed. You’re thinking about something and... maybe it’s about me. Maybe you’re realizing this is too much."

My eyes blurred, and I bit my tongue hard enough to taste copper.

"I’m scared, Eldur," I whispered. "Not of what’s happening to me. Not of magic. Not even of the nightmares. I’m scared of losing you."

And finally, finally, the tears came. Quiet. Hot. Unstoppable.

"I love you," I sobbed. "So much that it’s killing me to think you might stop."

That was when I heard it.

The soft creak of the door.

I froze.

"Nova."

His voice.

Low. Rough. Like he’d been holding back an ocean.

I turned, and there he was—standing in the doorway of the bookshop, hair wind-tousled, silver eyes brighter than any storm I’d ever seen.

"I didn’t mean to eavesdrop," he said, stepping closer. "But when I couldn’t find you, I... I followed your scent."

I blinked at him. "You followed my scent?"

"Don’t make it weird. You currently smell like ink and peppermint."

I choked on a laugh, then wiped my eyes furiously. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough."

Silence again.

Then he crossed the room in three long strides and dropped to his knees in front of me, cupping my face in his warm, calloused hands.

"You think I’d ever stop loving you?" he whispered, voice hoarse. "Nova, I am not distant because I don’t love you. I’m distant because I’m terrified."

My breath caught. "Terrified of what?"

"Of losing you."

His forehead gently pressed against mine, and I felt the tremble in his breath like a ripple through my own chest.

"You’re changing," he murmured. "And it’s because of me. The bite... the bond... all of it. You’re in pain, and I don’t know how to fix it fast enough. Elizabeth told me what has to happen next. And it’s... big. It’s everything."

My heart thudded in my ears. "Tell me."

He paused, visibly struggling, then finally said it.

"I have to complete the bond. The Mating Ceremony. If I don’t, your body might not survive the transformation."

The words hit me like a soft earthquake. My world tilted a little.

"That sounds... intense."

"It is," he said. "It’s sacred. It fuses us. Body, soul, everything. We become one."

I nodded slowly. "And you’re scared because...?"

"Because you don’t know what that really means. You don’t know what you’re agreeing to. My world—Nova, it’s cruel. It’s dark. It’s full of monsters I’ve spent my life fighting. And I’m one of them."

I smiled faintly. "I’ve seen worse."

That made him look up, his eyes glinting like wet embers. Hopeful. Torn.

"Do you want this, Nova? Truly?"

I reached up and ran my fingers along his jaw, grounding both of us in the moment.

"I don’t want it because I’m afraid of dying," I said. "I want it because it’s with you."

Something shifted. The aura around him changed.

As soon as the words left my mouth, the entire bookstore lit up. Soft golden fairy lights bloomed to life around us—dangling from the shelves, weaving through the ceiling beams, casting a warm, magical glow over everything. It felt like stepping into a dream.

And then, as if the moment couldn’t get any more surreal, a small velvet box shimmered into existence in Eldur’s hand. He exhaled shakily, then knelt fully on one knee and opened it.

Inside was the most stunning ring I’d ever seen—intricate, otherworldly, and unlike anything I’d ever imagined. A delicate band of woven silver vines, wrapped around a gem that pulsed faintly like it had a heartbeat of its own.

"I made it," he said softly, eyes locked on mine. "Every part of it. For you."

My heart practically stopped.

"Nova," he said, voice steady now, "will you marry me?"

My eyes blurred. I didn’t even have to think.

"Yes," I whispered, eyes shining. "A thousand times yes."