Filed to story: Luna Riannon and Alpha Brayden Novel
“And I want to mark you too. Would you let me?”
She bit her lip, waiting for his reply, and Fenrir brushed his palm over her cheek, the last golden rays of the setting sun drawing their features, almost making them feel ethereal.
“You can do anything to me, Astrea.”
Any other god would have been afraid to even pronounce such words because of their binding effect. But not Fenrir.
And not with her.
It was a confession in itself, and she stood on the tips of her toes to try to reach his lips. He met her halfway, claiming what was rightfully his
The kiss was quickly growing into something else again.
“We need to find a better place to continue this,” he growled into her mouth as she giggled, agreeing with him.
Sudden light blinded them, and a deafening sound followed. The world around them seemed to shake and an unexpected wave of heat washed over them, carrying with it the acrid scent of smoke and burning debris.
Fenrir locked her in his arms, trying to protect her from whatever it was, but she still pushed away a little to be able to see what was going on.
The air filled with the sounds of sirens blaring, mingling with the distant cries of people below as an enormous stomp of fire was dying down in the centre of this sovereign capital.
The flickering flames danced in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the city. It became almost impossible to breathe from all the dust and the heat.
“Explosion,” Astrea gasped. “But how – who?”
They looked at each other, concern and realisation painting their faces. The weight of uncertainty and fear settled upon them, causing both their hearts to race.
“Those people-” she whispered. “This is terrible!”
She looked at Fenrir, trying to find some consolation in him, but only saw the wrinkle between his eyes deepen as he loudly swore under his breath.
“F*ck! We are royally scr*wed he grunted, his grip on her tightening.
She followed his gaze, and her lips parted in shock as she-watched a huge blue flag with a white wolf and a northern star projected onto one of the still-standing buildings.
A flag of the Northern Lycan Kingdom.
Astrea tried to distract a group of people while Fenrir discreetly lifted a heavy block to let Gideon save a child who survived the explosion from piles of rubble. Sadly, his parents didn’t make it; she couldn’t take this anymore. They had been working here for hours, trying to help along with the southern fire and rescue crews, who were overwhelmed by the scale of the disaster.
It was the middle of the night and still too dangerous here, but they couldn’t give up and leave these people alone.
Fenrir had to think twice about using anything divine; this was clearly a response from Vidar. The first payment for the disrupted balance.
Astrea wiped the sheen of sweat from her forehead when she thought her werewolf hearing picked up another sound from a mountain of debris.
“I think I have another one,” she screamed, alerting people next to her and went to it. Her movements had to be deliberate and focused as she assessed the situation, searching for any signs of the trapped person after each removed stone. She remained cautious, aware of the potential risks for her own safety.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t the best place to be stuck as a huge half-destroyed wall towered over the exact place she was at, threatening to collapse at any moment.
You only have one chance at this, Nova warned her.
Each minute mattered. Too many people died today, and quite a few were on her watch. She was not ready to lose anyone else.
The closer she got, the more convinced she became; someone was moaning beneath the remnants of a once-tall office building, so she sped up her work, finally reaching a hand covered in dust.
“Do you hear me?” she called and gently grasped the fingers, happy to find them somewhat warm and trembling.
Now she could tell that it was a woman, but all she heard from her was a little whimper. She probably couldn’t talk.
There was quite a heavy piece of concrete on top of her with a few broken wooden planks, pipes and wire, which she cleared first.
“Astrea!” She heard Fenrir’s worried voice. He was clearly searching for her, worried beyond belief. Considering how many dead bodies were around them, it was understandable.
“Here!” she yelled as loud as she could, ready to lift the reinforced concrete, but the moment she did, the light around her disappeared, and she felt a deep sense of dread welling up in her stomach. Turning her head, she noticed cracks spreading fast at the base of that massive wall. A terrible sign!
She could choose to abandon the woman, but if she did, the latter would never make it. If she didn’t, it was quite possible they both would die here and now.
“Astrea!” Fenrir was running towards her, but they both knew he wouldn’t be there in time.
Nova, help me! Astrea prepared for a final push.
I am trying! Her wolf growled, lending her the strength she needed
Yet it was too late. She could hear the wall cracking at the base. She would die under it. It would simply smash her on top of the woman she tried to save.
She closed her eyes, ready for the impact. There was no way to avoid it –
Astrea held her breath as the cloud of dust enveloped her.
Something pressed against her back, and she sensed the boulders falling around her, not causing her any harm.
She was fine.
“Astrea!” Fenrir roared, and for a split second, she was shocked to hear him so far away because someone had just covered her, saving her life from imminent death. Her first thought was that it was him, but apparently, she was wrong.
“Are you going to stand like this for a long time?” Joran seethed, holding the biggest piece of the broken wall over them and not letting it hammer her.
Her lips parted in shock. He was the last man she expected to see here
“Dragonfly!” He groaned as one of his knees budged a bit, showcasing she wasn’t safe yet. “I thought I trained you better than that.”
“You did!” she muttered, pushing the concrete away, revealing a woman underneath who couldn’t speak but tried to open her eyes.
Responsive. And with a distinct werewolf scent. All good signs.
Astrea knew she just needed to drag her out and not break anything vital in the process. This was the benefit of working with shifters. If they were not dead, they could recover from pretty much anything over time. She simply needed to get the woman to safety.
“Hurry up, will you?” Joran rushed her, and she obeyed him, swearing under her breath. If anyone had told her they would work together just hours ago, she would have laughed in their faces.
She was out right before the wall collapsed completely, clouds of dust chasing her as she ran into a furious Fenrir.
“Astrea, what the hell?” he growled loudly, his terrified gaze scanning her. “If anything happened to you-“
“I am fine!” She tried to force a smile onto her lips, although it was hard considering the circumstances. A group of medics ran up to them with a stretcher and took the woman under their care, allowing Astrea to breathe out in relief. One more life saved.
“Please, leave these things to me.” He pulled her into his embrace. “If he had been a few seconds late, I would have lost you again-“
Astrea bit her lips, guilt washing over her.
“Sorry.” She raised her head to look at her beloved, but noticed his eyes were elsewhere.
Joran walked past them, trying to brush the dust off his jacket.
“You are welcome!” His words were filled with venom despite his selfless act, and he did not stop to talk to them, carrying on as if nothing had happened.
“You couldn’t let literally anyone else save you?” Fenrir raised his brow at her, brushing his fingers over her cheek.
“It may come as a shock to you, but I don’t want anyone to save me at all.” Her shoulders drooped. “In this lifetime, I have always felt so strong and able to go through anything, but ever since I remembered who I am I can’t stop thinking about it, Fenrir. I am literally a goddess trapped in a dying body. Powerless. Useless.”
“Don’t say that!” He cupped her chin, lifting it up so that she looked at him. “You are the most precious-“
“I know, I know… but hear me out.” She glanced at the stars.
“Vidar is at the peak of his power. Joran hates us both; you are still banished from the divine realm and unable to replenish your power the normal way, and I have nothing to offer in this fight. All I know is how to cut throats discretely or how to slip poison into someone’s cup. But all my battle skills are worth nothing when I am a mortal fighting gods.”
“I don’t want you to fight at all,” he confessed, and she