BloodMoon: Captivated by the Forbidden Lycan Alpha
Chapter 254: DANTE’S VOW

Chapter 254: DANTE’S VOW

{ "The vows are not just words; they are the foundation stones of a lifelong promise to love, honor, and cherish."}

His arms wrapped around me in an instant. Steady, warm, and comforting. He did not ask what had happened, and he did not need to. He simply held me, and in that silence, the last pieces of guilt, grief, and guardedness loosened their grip on my soul.

After a long moment, I tilted my head up to look at him. "He came to me." Dante blinked, quietly waiting. "Dunco." My voice cracked gently on his name. "He came. He thanked me. Blessed... us."

Dante’s brow furrowed, but not with doubt, just awe. His hands tightened around my waist, grounding me. "He did?"

I nodded. "He said he never left. That he saw everything. And he said thank you... to you."

Dante exhaled slowly, the sound full of reverence and the weight of a man who had stood in another’s shadow with grace and patience. "Then I will carry that blessing with everything I am."

A soft laugh slipped from me, watery and small. "He said I just needed to forgive myself... for loving again."

Dante leaned in, brushing his lips to my forehead. "You did not do anything wrong by surviving. By loving again. If anything," he whispered, "you reminded me how to breathe."

I closed my eyes, letting his words fold over me like warmth from a hearth. "I’m ready," I whispered.

Dante smiled into my hair. "Then let us build forward. Together."

Hours later, late in the evening, the moon hung high above the garden, casting silver shadows across the veranda outside the Kayne home. Inside, the house was still. The others had long since gone to bed, laughter fading into silence like firelight dwindling to embers.

Dante and I sat in the sitting room, a bottle of aged plum wine between us, two glasses half full. The fire crackled low in the hearth, not for warmth but for comfort, the scent of ash and lavender drifting through the air. I had changed out of my robes, pulled my hair down. My bare feet were tucked beneath me on the velvet cushions. For the first time in years, I felt... not regal. Not responsible.

He sat close beside me, not touching at first, just present. The wine had warmed us both, but it was his nearness that made my chest ache in that soft, vulnerable way only true safety could. I turned toward him. "Do you remember the first time you sat here?"

Dante glanced around the room, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You mean the time I knocked over the tea set trying not to offend you?"

I laughed genuinely. "Yes. You looked terrified."

"I was. I thought you might set me on fire."

"You weren’t wrong." I leaned into him, letting my head rest against his shoulder. "I didn’t know what to do with you back then."

"And now?"

I looked up at him. "Now... I just want you close."

His arm slipped around me, drawing me in until I was tucked against his chest. I closed my eyes, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath my cheek.

"Today was..." I began, but the words tangled.

"I know," he said gently. "You don’t have to explain."

"But I want to," I whispered. "Dunco was the love of my youth. Of my fire. But you... You have been the quiet strength that held me when I did not even know I was falling. I think... I was afraid to let myself have this."

He was silent for a moment, fingers brushing lightly up and down my arm. "I never wanted to replace him. Just walk beside you if you had let me."

I leaned up, kissed his jaw slowly and softly. "You are not a replacement. You are a gift I did not know I was allowed to want."

He turned to me then, kissed me full on the mouth unhurried, reverent. And when we parted, I pressed my forehead to his and breathed him in.

"I love you," I said.

He smiled, voice low. "Then let this be home, Sierra. Not just this house, or this coven. Us. Let us be home." And in the hush that followed, as the fire crackled and the moonlight washed over the quiet room, I knew I already was.

The flickering fire had dimmed to golden coals by the time we made our way upstairs. The hallways of the Kayne home were hushed, lit only by the gentle glow of moonstone lanterns and the faint hum of magic that still lingered in the stones, like memories refusing to sleep.

Our hands never parted and once Inside my chamber, I closed the door softly behind us. The room welcomed us like it had been waiting draped in shadow, perfumed with old roses and dried herbs, the silk canopy shifting with the evening breeze. No titles, no duty, no legacy. Just breathe. Skin. Us.

Dante sat on the edge of the bed first, pulling me gently between his legs. His hands ran up my thighs, settling at my waist.

"You’re sure?" he asked softly, always giving me that moment, that choice.

I nodded. "I want you. All of you. Let there be no more shadows between us."

His eyes darkened not just with desire, but something deeper. Reverence. Bond.

He leaned forward, and I tilted my head without hesitation. His lips brushed my throat, warm, gentle, before his fangs emerged. The bite was tender. Sharp only for a breath. Then it melted into heat, deep, old, and sacred. I gasped, clutching his shoulders as he fed not to harm, but to connect. To witness me in the most primal way. My blood pulsed into him, and with it went my grief, my strength, my endless love.

He pulled back slowly, licking the wound closed with care.

I cupped his face. "My turn."

His eyes gleamed, but he offered himself to me without words, pulling down the collar of his shirt and baring the line of his throat. My fangs extended, and I pressed a kiss there first, letting him feel my heartbeat.

Then I bit his neck, and he let out a quiet sound, half exhale, half groan, his arms tightening around me as I drank. His blood was fire and forest, steel, and storm. I tasted his devotion, his longing, his loyalty that never once demanded anything in return. When I pulled away, I met his gaze. Our blood mingled now beneath our skin, quiet magic humming between us like the rhythm of a soul long divided, now made whole.

We did not speak as we moved beneath the sheets, but our bodies did slowly, gently, with the ache of those who had waited too long to be known as this. And when we lay tangled afterward, skin to skin, his breath against my collarbone, I whispered into the hush between us:

"I am yours, Dante. In every life."

His hand found mine beneath the blankets.

"And I have always been yours."

Dawn arrived gently as the Golden light spilled through the lace curtains, brushing across the stone floor and the edge of the bed like a kiss. Birds sang low in the garden below, the world stretching itself awake in quiet reverence. I lay there, still wrapped in his arms, his breath warm against the nape of my neck. The sheets tangled around our legs, one of his hands resting over my stomach, fingers curled possessively in his sleep. I had not felt this kind of stillness in years. The kind that was not born from exhaustion or loss, but from peace. From knowing, finally, that I was where I was meant to be.

I turned slowly, careful not to wake him. Dante’s face was soft in sleep, his brow relaxed, the usual lines of worry and restraint melted into something almost boyish. He looked... free. I touched his cheek, and he stirred, blinking once, then smiling like he had been waiting for me to wake up.

"Good morning," he murmured, voice still rough from sleep.

"Good," I echoed, smiling back. "It is."

He pulled me in closer, brushing a kiss to my temple. "Did you rest well?"

"I did. For the first time in... I cannot remember how long." I touched the place over my heart where the bond thrummed quietly. "It is different now. I feel... anchored."

"So do I." He reached for my hand beneath the blankets, entwining our fingers. "Sierra, we’ve been walking beside each other for so long... but last night, it finally felt like we started walking forward."

A soft hum of agreement left me. "I was not sure I had ever let myself have this again. But I am glad I did. I am glad it is you."

His smile deepened. "You’ve always been worth the wait."

The knock at the door was soft and respectful. One of the house stewards. I sighed and looked toward the light peeking in.

"Our day begins," I whispered.

He chuckled and kissed the back of my hand. "Let it. We face it together now."

As I sat up, the sheets falling around me, I looked around the room, the same space in which I had once felt so alone. Now, it held more than memories. It held love. Future.

I turned to him once more. "Let’s go build what comes next." And with that, we rose together.