The Nameless Luna – Book One: The Girl With Violet Eyes

I gaze up at my mate, feeling as if I’m seeing him for the first time. The way his eyes blaze with fierce protectiveness makes my heart flutter. He looms large and rugged, but I’m struck by the realization that neither his size nor his strength frightens me.
He’s a King forged through hardship and heartbreak, and in this moment, seeing the fire in his eyes over the harm that’s been done to me, I truly believe he would burn the world to protect me.
I didn’t understand it at first, but I should have seen it the second he shielded me from Oscar’s blow and offered me his hand. He built this entire pack from the ashes of what his parents left behind and made his territory a safe haven for those who were unwelcome everywhere else.
‘I really wasn’t trying to run away,’ I whisper, and he frowns slightly, confused by my words.
‘I know.’
‘No,’ I insist. I need him to understand why I said it. ‘I mean, I don’t want to go back to the Banes. Ever. I want to be here, and I don’t want to be scared anymore.’
He leans closer, his hand still cupping the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my damp blonde hair.
I am lost in the intensity of his gaze, which seems to search mine for something I cannot place.
‘I will never run away from you, my king,’ I say, looking into his eyes.
He leans even closer, and for a moment, he seems torn between kissing me and saying something. But then there’s a splashing sound in the bathroom, and he pulls away. Cursing under his breath, he quickly goes to turn off the running water, which I can only assume overfilled the tub and flooded the bathroom.
When he comes back, his expression has changed. He seems more composed now, like the interruption was a cold splash of reality that once again grounded him.
‘Your bath is ready, flower,’ he says simply, walking over to me to hand me a towel. ‘I’ll leave you to wash up and warm up. Call out if you need anything.’
As he turns away from me to head for the door, I slip out from under the covers, wrapping the towel around my chest.
‘Wait,’ I say suddenly, not ready to let this feeling slip through my fingers just yet. He wavers, seeming as uncertain as I feel. ‘Maybe… maybe you could stay?’
The floor is cold under my bare feet, and my heart is thundering as he watches me walk around the bed and then past him. There’s a second of hesitation, and then he follows me, pausing in the doorway of the bathroom.
Inside, the air is thick with steam. My attention immediately falls on the extravagant bathtub, a separate masterpiece in the center of the room, brimming with hot water that overflows onto the marble floor. The heat calls out to me in a different way than the cold of the lake, less urgent and haunting.
I sense Tristan’s gaze on my back as I make my way toward the tub. A tantalizing anticipation is brewing between us, mixed with a dizzying sense of relaxation from the warmth that fills the space between us.
I know he’s watching me as I slowly unwrap the towel from my body, letting it fall to the ground at my feet. I unclasp my bra and toss it aside as well, and I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.
My breathing becomes shallow as I step out of my panties. Every inch of me is aware of Tristan’s gaze burning onto my skin, even with my back turned to him.
But he says nothing. He doesn’t ask me to explain myself or tell me what to do. He simply stands back and watches, allowing me to take the lead.
Without a word, I lower myself into the tub, feeling the water spill over the rim as I sink down into the warmth. The water is hot, but after the first initial shock of it, it becomes a caress on my skin, soothing away the aches and pains of the day. More water spills over the rim as I slide further down and rest my back against the edge of the tub.
The heat is almost too much to bear, balancing on that edge between stinging and soothing, but as I settle into it, the stiffness in my bones and soreness in my muscles begin to melt away, and a soft sigh of satisfaction escapes my lips.
The sound seems to spur Tristan into action, and I hear him drawing near, his footsteps splashing softly across the water that spilled across the marble floor. The atmosphere is electric, charged with an undeniable longing that I’m only now beginning to understand. As I lean my head back, the water lapping at my neck, I can feel the tension between us building to a fever pitch.
He kneels behind me by the edge of the bath. From the corner of my eye, I watch his muscled arms reach around either side of me, fingers lazily dipping into the water beside me. He cups his hand and sinks it deeper beneath the surface.
Then he raises his hand over my head, letting the handful of warm water slide down the crown of my head and drip down my hair and neck.
The sensation is both soothing and startling, and my eyes flutter shut. He pours more water over me, the warm liquid trickling down my skin. I bite back a little moan as the backs of his knuckles graze the side of my neck, and I tilt my head to the side beneath his touch.
Tristan’s movements are slow and deliberate as if he’s savoring each moment. His actions are somehow sensual and innocent, a paradox that makes my heart race and my head spin. The warmth of the water is soothing and relaxing, the feel of his hands firm yet gentle.
I’ve felt vulnerable plenty of times before, but never like this. I’ve never felt raw and exposed and enjoyed it; I’ve never yearned for it like this before. But at the same time, there’s a sense of safety and comfort, a feeling of being cared for by someone who will protect me no matter what.
The steam from the water envelops us, the world around us shrinking until there’s only the two of us in this moment, this intimate space.
I lean my head back and open my eyes, looking up at him. The steam obscures his face, but his eyes betray his desire, and I can’t help the shiver that courses through me in spite of the heat.
There’s a silent understanding between us, an unspoken longing that burns in his golden eyes. His fingers hook around my jaw, gently tilting my chin toward him.
His lips come down to brush against my own, soft and taunting at first. I shift in the tub, turning my face to him as if I were a sunflower and he were daylight itself, and the kiss deeps. Everything inside me is tight and loose at the same time, and he kisses me hungrily in a way that makes me never want to stop.
But then, a sudden, piercing pain erupts across my chest, sharp as an icy dagger plunging into my heart. I gasp and pull away, trembling from the tortuous waves crashing over me.
‘What the fu—’