Chapter 145

Ava

The square was utterly silent as every eye turned toward me. I could practically feel their stares boring holes into my skull, their eyes prickling over my skin like a thousand tiny needles. If anyone had spoken, I wasn’t sure—my heart was too busy thundering in my ears, the sound of it drowning out everything else.

Chris’s question hung heavily in the air between us, his hand still extended. I opened my mouth, but no words came out at first. If there were even any words for me to say, they died in my throat before they even reached my tongue.

My gaze flickered briefly over the remaining four Elders standing off to the side. Elise’s face was bright red with fury, her lips pursed so tightly they had gone white. The vein at her temple throbbed visibly as she stared daggers at me.

I swallowed hard, my throat feeling impossibly dry and constricted. Finally, I managed a small nod and took Chris’s hand.

“Yes,” I whispered, the single word seeming to echo in the silence surrounding us. “I would be honored.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, but the Elders remained frighteningly still and quiet. Elise continued to glower at us, Bradley ran his hands nervously through his hair, Fatima shifted from foot to foot, and Claire just stared with wide eyes.

But Chris paid them no mind. Rather, he turned his attention back to the pack, straightening his shoulders.

“Ava has been by my side through everything,” he stated. “She is brilliant, compassionate, a natural leader. And…” He paused, glancing at me. “I have loved her since I was a child. Not a day went by that I didn’t think of her.”

A collective swoon worked its way through the crowd at his confession. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Elise’s face contort even further with rage. But the others seemed softened by Chris’s words, their expressions becoming tender, even misty-eyed.

Chris held up his free hand for silence again. “I know it is not traditional for a woman who has already been mated to become a Luna. But I love Ava, and I wish to bring our pack’s ancient traditions into a new era—just as I abolished the outdated Omega slavery not that long ago.”

A few people bobbed their heads in agreement. Chris looked around for a moment before continuing. “Moonstone will be strengthened with Ava by my side. I have no doubts about that. She will make an exceptional Luna.”

Another murmur, this one sounding more accepting. I risked a glance toward the Elders again. Elise had gone rigid, her shoulders trembling with barely contained fury. But Fatima, Claire, and Bradley looked more pensive than outright irate now—grieving the loss of Degas above all else, it seemed.

After the heavy silence stretched on for a moment longer, Chris cleared his throat. “I understand this is a significant matter that requires much discussion,” he said, turning to face the Elders. “Especially with Degas’s recent passing, and now we have only four Elders…”

He trailed off meaningfully, squeezing my hand again. I realized suddenly that with Degas gone, the Council would need to appoint a new Elder soon. There was much to do, much to overcome.

Not to mention… Degas’s prophecy. The one he had entrusted to me and Chris on his deathbed.

My chest constricted painfully at the thought. We would need to share that with the Elders, with the pack, soon. But was now the right time?

Seeming to sense my inner turmoil, Chris looked over at me. “Perhaps we could convene in a few days’ time to go over everything formally?” he suggested, lowering his voice. “Allow us all a bit of time to process, grieve… and prepare accordingly.”

Elise’s jaw ticked, but after a moment, she gave a stiff nod of agreement. The other three inclined their heads as well.

Chris squeezed my hand again, and I forced myself to rip my eyes away from the Elders to meet his gaze.

“Degas will be celebrated tonight,” he murmured, quietly enough so only I could hear. “Let’s allow tonight’s revelry to be for him, yes? Just for him.”

I managed a small smile, leaning into his solid frame as the pack began to shift and murmur more loudly around us. “He would have wanted it that way,” I agreed quietly.

The somber atmosphere had dissipated somewhat, the mood becoming lighter as the pack members finally gravitated toward the long tables heaped with food and drink in the center of the square.

Soon, laughter and joyful chatter filled the square as stories were traded over cups of ale and mulled cider. It was just as Degas would have wanted—a celebration of life rather than mourning over death.

A short while later, music began to play—fiddles playing lively reels while flutes and hand drums joined in. The sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the square, and soon it dipped below the horizon entirely and the fireflies and crickets and bioluminescent flora began to come out.

After a couple of drinks, I found myself mingling easily, trading stories with old friends and neighbors and ignoring the heated stare of the irate Elise from the sidelines.

At some point, I realized Chris had slipped away from my side. Frowning, I scanned the bustling crowd but didn’t spot his familiar form anywhere.

Draining my cup, I set it down and started weaving my way through the throng of people. I ducked around a circle of giggling children playing a clapping game while their parents looked on fondly. Smiling at the wholesome scene, I finally made my way to the edge of the square.

Peering down the path leading up to the Packhouse, I paused, squinting my eyes. There, overhead, I could see the warm glow of candlelight flickering in one of the windows of Chris’s office.

Of course, I thought to myself. Where else would he be?

Making my way quickly up the front steps to the Packhouse, I pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside the dimly lit foyer. I made my way up the steps, picking up a bottle of wine off the rack in the hallway as I went, and opened his office door without knocking.

Sure enough, Chris sat hunched over his desk, his face buried in his hands.

“Chris?” I called out softly.

He jerked his head up, blinking owlishly at me for a moment before releasing a shuddering sigh. His handsome features looked utterly haggard and exhausted, a five o’clock stubble shadowing his jaw.

Without a word, I crossed the room to him and set the wine bottle down on his desk. Chris stared up at me wearily as I grabbed two glasses from the minibar and filled them with the deep red liquid.

Handing him his glass, I watched over the rim of my own as he sipped. He took one long gulp before setting his glass down and leaning back in his chair. “Thanks.”

I watched him for a moment, unable to find the right words. But it was then that I realized that words weren’t necessary. Without speaking, I dropped to my knees in front of him and cupped his face in my hands.

“Ava—”

Before he could finish, I crashed my lips onto his and kissed him deeply. Our lips and tongues intertwined easily, just as they had so many times before, and when we finally pulled back for air, our breathing was ragged.

“I would be honored to be your Luna,” I whispered.

A beat of heavy silence passed between us. Then, with a low groan, Chris surged down from his chair, his arms encircling my waist as his mouth crashed against mine again.

We fell to the floor together in a tangle of limbs.