Beneath the Alpha's Moon
Chapter 308: Before The Ceremony

Chapter 308: Before The Ceremony

Nova’s POV

The moment I said "Yes," everything changed.

I could see it in Eldur’s eyes. The shift. Like the storm that had always brewed quietly behind those silver irises finally stilled. He looked... peaceful. As if for once, the war inside him had surrendered.

His lips quirked. "A thousand times yes?" he whispered.

I nodded, breath hitching as I laughed through fresh tears. "A thousand. A million. Infinity."

Eldur kissed me like he was making a vow with every inch of his soul.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t hungry. It was gentle, reverent—like he was afraid I’d disappear if he closed his eyes too long.

His fingers slipped into my hair as mine wrapped around his neck, and we stayed like that, suspended in golden fairy lights and shared breath. His lips brushed against mine with slow precision, tasting every syllable I hadn’t said yet. When we pulled back, foreheads pressed together, I could feel his heartbeat racing just as fast as mine.

"I love you," he said, voice raw. "I don’t say it right. I don’t know how to be soft like other people. But, Nova... I would burn down the world just to keep you safe."

"You don’t have to be soft," I whispered. "You just have to be mine."

He groaned and kissed me again, harder this time, like my words had broken something in him. His hands slid to my waist and pulled me gently into his lap on the old bookstore rug. We melted into each other—kisses deepening, sighs and soft moans tangled like vines. My fingers skimmed beneath the hem of his shirt, feeling the ridges of muscle, the warmth of skin that seemed to hum beneath my touch.

But just as I began to tremble in anticipation, just as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to my neck that made my head spin—he stilled.

"Wait," he said, breathless.

I blinked up at him. "What?"

His forehead rested against mine again. "I want this. Gods, Nova, I want you. But..."

"But? Again?"

"I’m sorry, I can’t... yet." His voice cracked. "The Mating Ceremony has to happen first."

I tilted my head, heart still thudding. "Why?"

"Because until it’s done, you’re still transforming. Your body’s still adjusting to the bond, the bite, everything. If we go too far, it could... hurt you. Maybe even kill you." He swallowed. "Three weeks. Just three. Until then, all we can do is kiss and cuddle and make painfully long eye contact."

I laughed, the sound shaky and full of love. "So, you’re putting us on a snuggle-only policy?"

"Yes," he said solemnly. "Effective immediately."

I curled against him, tucking my head beneath his chin. "Fine. But you’d better bring your A-game to cuddling."

"Oh, I will." He kissed the top of my head. "I’m an expert."

The following days were a dream.

We continued going to school—Eldur always waiting on my every word like a scene out of a fantasy novel. His white hair, those glowing silver eyes... I swear, I always caught girls staring so hard they forgot where their classes were.

He never looked at them.

Only me.

"Jealousy looks good on them," Lara said one day, winking as she passed us. "You two make everyone else look like beige wallpaper."

When we worked at the bookshop, he’d slip notes into the pages of random novels I was shelving. Some were sweet:

"You looked like the sun today."

Others were Eldur-style poetic chaos:

"If anyone else makes you smile like that, I’ll turn them into a toad and launch them into the void."

We went on dates that felt stolen from dreams.

One night, he teleported us to a mountaintop in Norway just to watch the northern lights. Another time, he recreated the café from my favorite romance movie—complete with a record player and the smell of cinnamon and cloves in the air.

And he was always careful. Always gentle. When we kissed, it was a slow burn. When we held each other, it felt like a home I didn’t know I’d been missing.

Our wedding planning was chaotic and so beautiful.

"I want a white wedding," I told him one afternoon as we sat cross-legged on the rug in Eldur’s apartment surrounded by papers, swatches, and a ridiculous number of sticky notes.

Eldur paused mid-sip of his tea. "White like... purity? Or white like snowstorm aesthetic?"

I snorted. "White like dress, flowers, cake—normal-people aka ’humans,’ wedding."

He smirked. "Then you’ll have it. We’ll have two weddings—one for the pack, one for the human world. I’ll wear a tux. You’ll wear whatever makes you feel like royalty. And we’ll dance until you forget the world ever hurt you."

I blinked, tears threatening. "How do you always know what to say?"

"Magic," he said smugly, wiggling his fingers. "And also, I love you."

*******

Not long after that day, Eldur turned to me with that spark in his eyes—the one that always meant he was about to say something that would change everything.

"Let’s find our dream home," he said. "Somewhere to start the next Chapter. Just us."

And so we did.

Small, tucked in a clearing just outside the city, with old wood floors and ivy crawling up the stone chimney. It had a window seat. A garden. A fireplace for winter nights.

"This is it," I whispered when we walked in.

"It’s ours," he said simply.

We spent hours planning how we’d fill it. I wanted bookshelves everywhere. He wanted swords on the wall. We compromised. Swords on one wall, books on the others.

"I’m going to build a greenhouse," I told him one night.

"And I’ll enchant the plants to never die."

"I’ll cook."

"I’ll pretend to cook and secretly order food with magic."

I laughed so hard I fell off the couch, and he tackled me into a pile of blankets with mock horror. "You dare laugh at your future mate?!"

"Only forever," I giggled.

Three weeks passed.

And the night before the ceremony, I couldn’t sleep.

We lay curled on the couch, moonlight painting silver streaks across his face.

"Nervous?" he asked softly.

"A little," I admitted. "But only about the unknown. Not about you. Never about you."

He turned so we were face-to-face. "You trust me?"

"With everything."

"Then I’ll keep you safe. Even if it means ripping the stars from the sky to do it."

I smiled, a tear slipping down. "That’s dramatic."

"I’m dramatic."

"That’s true."

The morning of the Mating Ceremony arrived draped in anticipation. Eldur stepped into the light wearing flowing black robes that shimmered with silver runes—each one catching the sun like whispered secrets. He didn’t just look powerful. He looked like a myth pulled straight from the pages of an ancient tale—dark, divine, and just a little bit dangerous.

"You look like you’re about to conjure a thunder god," I whispered with a teasing smile.

He smirked, offering me his arm with all the flair of a storybook prince gone rogue.

"I am the storm," he said, voice low and dramatic, like he’d been waiting years to drop that line.

I wore a soft, pale-blue gown that sparkled like dawn mist on wildflowers. It flowed even when I was just sitting on a wheelchair, like the wind had made it just for me. When Lara saw me, she burst into tears right there in Eldur’s living room.

I’d asked her to help me get ready, but I hadn’t told her the full truth. As far as she knew, I was just going to a ridiculously fancy party with Eldur—something elegant, mysterious, maybe even a little dramatic. I left out the part about it being the Mating Ceremony.

I would’ve loved to have her there. Honestly, part of me ached not to share that moment with her. But she and Ollie weren’t there yet—not at the stage where he’d peeled back the veil and let her see the supernatural world hidden just beneath the surface.

So I had to keep it quiet. Had to protect the secret.

Even if it meant lying with a smile while she zipped up my dress and talked about high heels and hairpins, not knowing I was about to step into something ancient, sacred, and life-changing.

"You’re the damn moon," she sobbed, dabbing at her eyes. "You’re literally glowing, you beautiful goddess."

We laughed until we couldn’t breathe, until the moment swelled too big to contain.

Lara later left, and then—it was time.

Eldur raised his hand and split the air open with a portal, glowing and pulsing like a heartbeat.

"This is Moonpeak," he said. "The place where everything changes."

A rush of cold air hit us—crisp and wild like it had traveled from the edge of the world.

I stepped closer, and he wrapped my hand in his, firm and warm.

Together, we passed through the glowing threshold.

On the other side, the towering gates of Moonpeak loomed before us—dark wood carved with ancient runes that shimmered faintly under the moonlight, even though it was still morning. The scent of pine and frost hung in the air, and beyond the gates was a sprawling estate nestled within dense forest. It didn’t feel wild though. It felt curated—like someone had built a luxury kingdom inside the woods, equal parts primal and posh.