BloodMoon: Captivated by the Forbidden Lycan Alpha
Chapter 229: BACK IN BAY SHIFTER LANDS

Chapter 229: BACK IN BAY SHIFTER LANDS

{"Home is not a place...it’s a feeling,"}

FLORA’S POV

The first thing I felt when we crossed the border was the pull in my chest, faint, electric, like the land itself exhaled in welcome in the Bay shifter territory. The salt hung heavy in the air, the scent of the sea mixing with pine resin and ancient wolf magic. I closed my eyes and let it coat my lungs. After weeks in the mountains, we were back. Behind me, I heard her. Rita’s boots hit the earth, heavy and sure. Her presence was a fire at my back, always steady, always near. My mate. My Rougarou. Wild-souled, rough around the edges, and more constant than the moons.

She came up beside me, her scent grounding me. Smelled like smoke and iron and the blood of the mountain she had just helped me tame. "You’re quiet," she said, voice low, rough as ever. "Thinking?"

I crouched, fingers skimming the moss-covered roots of an old sentinel tree. Power still pulsed faintly beneath it, a heartbeat. "Listening," I murmured.

Rita snorted, and it made something inside me unclench. "The land’s not the only one remembering."

We walked side by side along the ridge path, the crescent bay spread below like a silver bowl. The wind caught the feathers on the old totems, and the wolf spirits danced along the treetops, unseen but felt. They always stirred when Rita was near Rougarou’s blood sang too loud for them to ignore.

"She’s calm," I said, watching the water. "But not still."

"You don’t trust it." Rita chuckled.

"No." I glanced at her. "Do you?"

Rita looked down toward the cliffs and the watch posts where our pack’s flags still flew. Her hand brushed the back of mine, just once. Not soft. Just a reminder: here. With you.

"I trust you," she said.

That silence after was something only bonded wolves understood. And gods, did I need that tether. After Sagstone and the caves in Ragar, we finally ensured the lands were safe. We reached the border camps, and one of the guards stepped forward and bowed. "Commander Flora. Rita. Beta Spark is waiting for your reports.

Rita tilted her head. "Tell him we sealed the last breach. The mountain’s clean." The scout nodded and vanished back into the dark. The moment stretched.

"You feel it too, don’t you?" I asked, turning to her. "The quiet’s not real. It is waiting."

Rita’s eyes glinted amber in the moonlight. She reached out and touched my jaw with the backs of her fingers, reverent. "Then let it wait before we go back."

By the time we made it to our home, the sky was deep lavender, the sea mist curling up through the trees like fingers trying to hold us back. I stood at the edge of our little clearing, heart thudding slow and steady. Rita stepped past me, quiet as ever, but I could feel the way her beast sighed in her chest. The way her shoulders dropped. Her steps slowed when she reached the door and touched the doorframe, fingers dragging over the wood grain like it might disappear.

"Still smells like cedar," she said softly.

"It should. I reinforced it with ash oil before we left." I responded.

She did not laugh, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "Of course you did."

When we walked inside, the stillness met us like an embrace. I dropped my gear by the door, boots heavy. Rita leaned against the wall, head tilted back, eyes closed, and I noted that she looked... tired.

I crossed the space between us and pressed a hand to her chest, just above her heart. "We made it back."

She pulled me in without a word, arms wrapping around my waist as she buried her face in my neck. I held her tight, fingers fisting in her clothes. When she finally loosened her grip, we moved to the bedroom and we both sank into the fur pile, half-tangled, half-sprawled, not even bothering with ceremony. The kind of exhaustion that lived in the bones settled over me, but I did not fight it. Rita’s hand found mine beneath the blankets. She brought it to her lips, kissed each knuckle, slowly.

I turned to face her, brushing back a lock of her hair. "We rest tonight."

"But because we earned it," she finished. And then, with the sound of the sea humming through the roots, and the bond between us silent but strong, we finally fell asleep.

I woke up to the warmth of Rita, the kind that filled your lungs before your eyes even open. That tells your bones that you are safe. You are home.

Rita was curled around me like she always slept when she did not think I was paying attention. One arm under my head, the other wrapped tight around my waist. Her face tucked into the space behind my ear. I could feel her breath, slow and steady, and the occasional flicker of her Rougarou spirit curled just beneath her skin.

There was a peace here I did not dare shatter. No orders. No summons. No blood-slick stone beneath my boots or dying comrades in my arms. Just the soft hush of the home and the muffled sound of gulls crying beyond the cliff edge. Her hand tightened slightly at my stomach, and I felt her shift like her body remembered me even before her mind did.

"Morning," she murmured, voice all gravel and velvet.

"Mm," I replied, eyes still closed. "It is, isn’t it?"

She kissed my shoulder without thinking, and I rolled to face her and opened my eyes. Rita looked soft in the morning. Her dark hair was tangled, and her wolf magic settled deep. Her gaze met mine, gold threaded through brown eyes, but calm now, no fire behind it.

"You’re staring," she said, smirking faintly.

"I’m remembering."

"Good things, I hope?"

I reached up and brushed a thumb across her cheekbone. "This. Right now. It is going in all the good memories with the rare ones."

She leaned in and nudged our noses together. "You’ve got good memories for me?"

I kissed her slowly, lingering. "Built it the moment you walked into my Bay shifter lands, commanding and furious."

She chuckled, deep and soft. "You hated me."

"I did not."

"You growled at me." She pointed out.

"You bared your teeth first."

We fell into silence, forehead to forehead, until the morning light began to spill through the moss-lined vents in the ceiling. The golden warmth bathed her skin, and for a moment, it felt like we were the last two wolves in the world.

Her fingers laced through mine under the covers. "No scouts today?"

"No scouts," I whispered.

"No council briefings?"

"No meetings."

"No war?"

I looked her in the eye and said it like a vow. "Not today."

She let out a breath that sounded like relief and pulled me tighter into her arms.

"Then we stay right here." By the time the sun slipped toward its midday perch, the house had warmed to a golden hush. The birds outside were louder than usual, like they even knew the war-weary wolves inside were finally resting. I stretched beneath the furs, joints aching in that deep, healing way, and rolled toward the spot Rita had left warm.

Hours later, Steam curled faintly from behind the stone partition near the back of the house and the bath. I sat up, letting the blanket fall to my lap, and listened to the water, the kind of water warmed by runestones we had placed ourselves. Rain-caught, moss-filtered, clean. I stood slowly, bare feet brushing the cool clay floor, and padded to the threshold. Rita stood under the flow, water trailing down her back in slow rivulets, catching in every scar and line carved by battle. Her arms braced against the wall, head tilted down, breath slow and measured. Steam curled around her like fog around the cliffs.

"You’re hogging all the heat," I said softly.

She did not flinch. Just smiled, slow and crooked. "Figured you needed to sleep more."

I stepped inside, the steam kissing my skin, and wrapped my arms around her from behind. Her back was warm against my chest. Solid. Real. She leaned into me immediately, like her body always remembered mine, even after chaos.

"Feeling better," I murmured into her shoulder.

"Yes," she replied, twisting to face me.

We kissed beneath the water, soft and slow. No heat, no urgency. Just the kind of closeness that reminded me we were more than commanders and weapons. That we were still flesh. Still home to each other. When we finally pulled apart, she reached behind me and grabbed the sea salt soap I liked.

"Turn."

I laughed but did as I was told. She scrubbed my back, muttering under her breath about soot and sap and "mountain stink." I rinsed, turned around, and returned the Favor, lingering over every bruise, every muscle I knew by memory. By the time we stepped out and wrapped ourselves in worn cotton towels, I felt lighter. After dressing, we moved to the little kitchen for the meal. The late lunch was simple: dried fish she had smoked before we left, flatbread from the pantry, and berries that were stored in the cooler. We sat at the table together, Rita sat cross-legged beside me, chewing thoughtfully, wind in her wild hair.

"You ever think about quitting?" she asked.

I blinked. "What, now?"

"No. I mean, after the realm is at peace. I feel that life in the mountains would suit us."

I looked at her scarred, strong, half-feral, and mine and said the truth. "A life like this"

She smirked. "I make the bed."

"And I lay on it, "I responded.

Her laughter echoed off the cliffs, and I wanted to bottle that sound. Store it somewhere I could carry into the dark. Our hands stayed clasped, stained with nothing but berry juice and sun. And for the first time in what felt like seasons, I let myself believe peace could last.