Filed to story: The Lycan King's Treasured Luna (Narine & Sargis) Book PDF Free
But if she never spoke, if she never said a single word for the rest of her life… I would still hear her. I already did. In the way she moved. The way her silence said more than most people’s shouting. The way she didn’t flinch from me quite as often anymore.
The court could talk all they wanted. Gossip and speculate, I didn’t care.
She had me. Completely.
And I doubt she even realized how she had me wrapped around her little finger without even trying.
The limousine slowed, taking a left down the narrow cobblestone path that led to Velariad. She sat forward slightly, sensing the shift. We were less than three minutes away.
Two minutes now.
One.
The car came to a gentle stop.
Filipe stepped out from the driver’s seat with all the grace and discipline of someone who’d worked for royalty his whole life. He rounded to her side of the vehicle and opened the door for her with a bow.
She blinked against the sudden brightness, then slowly eased out of the seat and onto the stone path.
I didn’t wait for Filipe to get to mine.
I pushed the door open myself and stepped out of the limousine just as the warm breeze hit me. It was floral, lush, and filled with the delicate, heady perfume of blooming orchids, night lilies, and moonshade vines.
Velariad.
Narine’s POV
The car ride had been calm.
Strangely calming, even.
The silence between us wasn’t suffocating like I feared it might be.
It was… soothing.
Maybe it was the candy. Maybe it was the gentle hum of the engine or the way the trees outside blurred into greens and golds. Still, his presence was too close. It pressed against the edges of my comfort zone. I didn’t like how aware I was of him, of every breath he took, and how the heat of his arm seemed to radiate into my side even though we weren’t touching.
But I stayed still. I endured. I focused on the little things, the rustle of the wrapper in my hand, the cool sweetness of the chocolate against my tongue, and the passing colors.
I’ve ridden in vehicles before, buses mostly, back when I went to school with Levon. Old, rattling buses that coughed and screeched down gravel roads. I’d never even been in a taxi, let alone a limousine, and certainly not one where I was being waited on hand and foot like I mattered.
And now here I was, stepping out of a black luxury vehicle.
I blinked.
The entrance in front of me looked like something out of a dream. A grand arched gate made of carved stone twined with vines and flowers so vibrant I wondered if they were real. Shades of lavender, ivory, crimson, and sapphire all exploded into life. The scent hit me next. It clung to the air like a song, wrapping around my senses and pulling me in.
I closed my eyes.
And for a second, just a breath, I forgot everything else.
I heard the sound of footsteps approach. I opened my eyes to find Sargis walking toward me, the sunlight casting gold on his dark hair. His shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, revealing the corded muscles of his forearms, and his hands were tucked into his pockets.
“This is one of the royal gardens,” he explained, stopping beside me. “But it’s the one with the most exotic flowers. I thought you’d enjoy the place best. Seems I made the right choice.”
I wanted to say it’s lovely. I really did. The words bubbled at the back of my throat. But they never came out.
I didn’t trust him. And I didn’t trust myself either. Didn’t trust what kindness meant when it came from someone with the power to crush me like a bug beneath his boot.
He might have smiled at me. He might have offered me candy. He might have been patient, careful, and quiet.
But he was still the King.
And now, after seeing the throne, after walking beneath those towering ceilings and watching guards bow at the flick of his hand, I understood what that meant.
He could snap his fingers and I’d disappear. He could end me before I even managed to scream.
And I was supposed to believe he cared?
“Let’s head in, shall we?” he offered, already turning toward the entrance.
I followed behind him silently. We passed under the arch and into the garden, and that’s when I froze.
Rows upon rows of flowers stretched in both directions, planted in breathtaking symmetry. Some I recognized from the faded pages of library books, flowers I’d only ever seen as printed pictures or inked illustrations.
There were Birds of Paradise, those strange, angular flowers that looked like fiery birds mid-flight, with their orange and indigo plumes tilted skyward. Bleeding hearts, too. Small, delicate blooms in the shape of hearts hanging from arched stems, with their pink petals pulled open like they were weeping.
Calla lilies, with their elegant white trumpets curled in that signature shape.
I even caught a glimpse of a Ghost Orchid. It was so rare I’d only ever read about it once, buried in the margin of a botany book.
Everywhere I turned, there was something new. The paths wove through the landscape in twisting lines and loops, leading to small fountains, stone benches, and shaded alcoves carved into vine-covered trellises.
Sargis walked ahead at an unhurried pace, giving me space. I could feel him glancing back every few steps, checking to see if I was still following.
I tentatively ran my hand along a row of petals. Their texture was soft, and velvety. I leaned in slightly, letting their scent fill me. My fingers brushed a blue flower, its sky-blue petals trembled ever so slightly in the breeze. It was a blue so pure it looked painted.
“Come. There’s a spot I want to show you.”
We went deeper into the maze, turning left and right like he knew this place by heart, and maybe he did. I was merely a wanderer here.
And then we broke into a clearing.
It opened up like a secret waiting to be found.
In the center stood a large fountain, its gentle trickle echoed softly in the serene space. Around it were semicircular concrete seats draped in woven tapestries, and farther off, there were hanging bag chairs suspended from thick, sturdy poles wrapped in ivy. Each one was littered with an explosion of throw pillows in deep maroons, soft creams, and indigo blues.
But none of that held my attention.
Tucked within a raised circular bed of soft moss and encased by a ring of moon-white stones was a single rose bush. And on it bloomed a cluster of the most ethereal flowers I had ever seen.
Silvery.
Not gray, not white, but actual shimmering silver, like molten starlight trapped in the delicate folds of petals. The edges were kissed with the faintest lilac tint, like the color of twilight clinging to a fading moon.
I didn’t know if it was real or magic.
I found myself moving toward it as if pulled by a thread I couldn’t see. Before I knew it, I was crouching right in front of it.
I didn’t dare touch it.
What if I ruined it just by breathing too close?
“They’re called Moonlit ?oile Roses,” I heard him say, above my head. “They can’t be found anywhere else in the world as they’ve been cultivated exclusively in this garden for centuries.” They’re used in every major royal event… the Mating Ceremony, coronations, the presentation of heirs… even in our funeral rites.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. My focus was fixed.
I didn’t know how long I stayed like that, just staring at them. Entranced.
Eventually, my legs started to cramp, and I pushed myself up to stand, wincing slightly as I stretched my muscles.
That was when I saw him. Sargis, sitting cross-legged on one of the bag chairs like it was his personal throne, with his hands behind his head and a toothy smile lighting up his face.
