The Triplet Alphas' Curse: Rejected by the Wolfless Luna.

This Chapter is dedicated to Jennifer Mckern. ❤️‍🩹💞

I genuinely don’t know how to thank you enough for what you’ve done. When I saw the castle, I honestly cried. I cried for hours.

Writing can be a lonely thing sometimes. Most days it’s just me, a blank page, and a story living inside my head. I spend countless hours pouring our hearts into these characters and worlds, hoping they mean something to someone out there.

At my lowest, a readers like you come along and remind me why I do it.

Your gift wasn’t just a castle. It was support. It was encouragement. It was a reminder that someone believes in my story enough to invest in it. That means more to me than I can properly put into words.

And because of your generosity, the book climbed into the Top 15 Best Seller rankings. Every time I look at that ranking, I think about the readers who helped make it possible, and your name is at the very top of that list.

Thank you for believing in this story. Thank you for believing in me. You’ve made this author cry happy tears since yesterday.

Now I’m staring at that Top 15 ranking and desperately hoping we can keep it there. So please know that every gift, every comment, every vote, and every bit of support truly makes a difference.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you. I will never forget this. ❤️‍🩹🫂

...

Lysander knew he was being summoned before the messenger even opened his mouth.

The feeling settled into his bones the moment the young dark fae appeared outside his chambers corridor.

”Master Vaelor requests your presence.”

Lysander almost laughed when the young fae used the word request. Nobody in the estate mistook those summons for requests.

Vaelor demands, not request.

The messenger left immediately.

Lysander remained seated for a few moments longer.

His golden eyes drifted toward the empty corner of the room, and then to the chair Aire had occupied earlier still sat near the table.

The faint scent of soap still lingered in the air.

Lysander exhaled through his nose, then he finally decided to stand up and ake his way to Vaelor’s chamber.

The walk to Vaelor’s wing felt longer than usual. Perhaps because he already knew why he had been called.

The vines.

Always the damned vines.

Most visitors thought the estate’s walls were the greatest prison.

They were wrong.

The vines saw everything, they listened, they remembered, and sooner or later, they reported.

Lysander pushed open the study doors.

The room beyond was silent.

Massive shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, and books of all creatures filled every inch of them.

A fire burned quietly in a black stone hearth.

Vaelor sat behind his desk, reading.

He didn’t acknowledge Lysander’s arrival. He didn’t even look up, or breath in acknowledgment.

Lysander remained standing.

Several moments passed, then several more minutes with Vaelor not saying a word, or looking up at him.

The silence wasn’t accidental.

Vaelor used silence the way other people used weapons. Eventually he turned a page, then another.

Only when he reached the end of the Chapter did he finally lift his eyes.

His violet eyes met Lysander’s golden ones. ”You’re late.” He reprimanded calmly.

Lysander frowned. ”I arrived more than a eight minute ago.”

Vaelor considered that, then nodded. However, he repeated himself. ”You’re late. Don’t try it again.”

Silence fell between them after those words.

Lysander immediately regretted speaking.

Vaelor folded one corner of a page carefully before closing the book.

”You clothed her.”

Lysander’s jaw tightened. He knew he’d be questioned for that but he expected Morrigan to do the questioning, and not this mind playing unseasoned bugger.

”She needed clothes.” He simply replied, despite himself. Keeping Vaelor waiting would do neither him, nor Aire any good.

Vaelor’s gaze remained steady on him. He swallowed calmly, and thought for a while before speaking. ”The vines disagree.”

Lysander fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Of course, the vines. The cursed plants reported everything.

Vaelor rested both hands upon the desk. ”Did I instruct you to provide clothing?”

”No.”

”Did my sister?”

”No.”

”Then explain why you disobeyed.”

Lysander stared at him. The irritating part wasn’t the question. It was that Vaelor genuinely expected an answer.

Not because he didn’t already know, but because he wanted to hear Lysander say it, and Lysander hated him more for that.

”I was tired of looking at her.”

Vaelor’s violet eyebrow lifted.

Lysander let out a low grunt, then added. ”Covered in mud.”

Vaelor waited.

”She was starving.”

Vaelor still waited. He visibly wasn’t satisfied, as he stared at Lysander from the rim of the glasses that rested on the bridge of his nose.

”Half dead.”

Still Vaelor waited. He haven’t heard a valuable explanation.

Lysander exhaled. He raised his voice a bit, getting agigated. ”She looked miserable.”

That finally earned a tiny barely bisibke reaction. There was a slight narrowing of Vaelor’s eyes.

He leaned back, and fixed his eyes hard on Lysander. ”I know exactly how much water she consumed.”

Lysander remained silent.

”I know what she ate, and I know where she sat.” Vaelor added, with a low snarl. He hated the idea of Aire being showed mercy.

Silence fell between them.

Vaelor sniffed agressively. He rubbed his forehead, then added. ”I know how long she remained inside your chambers.”

Lysander’s expression hardened.

Vaelor continued calmly. ”I know you stood far too close to her than you should.”

The room became still.

Lysander crossed his arms, across his chest. ”What exactly is your concern?” He got a bit defensive.

Vaelor rose slowly. The movement should not have felt threatening. Yet somehow it did.

The room changed when he stood. The temperature in the room dropped. Everyone in the realm knew what Vaelor was capable of.

Vaelor himself never felt the need to remind them.

He walked around the desk, and stopped directly in front of Lysander.

The difference between them should have favored Lysander.

Lysander was larger, broader, and built for violence while Vaelor looked more like a scholar than a fighter.

Yet every instinct Lysander possessed warned him on exactly who held power in the room.

”You have served this family for centuries.”

Lysander nodded. ”Yes.”

”You are loyal.”

”Yes.”

Vaelor nodded, then asked quietly. ”Do you wish for something to happen between the two of you?”

Lysander blinked.

The question genuinely caught him off guard.

Vaelor watched him carefully and patiently, as if observing a specimen beneath glass.

”I was informed,” Vaelor continued, ”that you played around with her.”

Lysander stared at him in surprise, then laughed once. It came out as a short humorless sound.

”She’s a prisoner.” He said instead.

”That wasn’t my question.”

The laughter vanished.

Vaelor tilted his head slightly. ”What exactly do you want from Aire?”

Nothing in his voice rose, nothing sharpened, nothing changed, and somehow that made it worse.

Lysander suddenly understood something.

This wasn’t about the bath. It wasn’t about the clothes, and it definitely wasn’t even about the food.

Vaelor was protecting something.

”We can’t afford a misstep with her.” Vaelor warned him.

Lysander took in a long distracted breath. ”I understand you—”

Vaelor cut him off sharoly, yet his voice remained calm. ”You’ll reassure me as many times as I require.”

He regarded Lysander calmly when he got no immediate response. ”Have I made myself unclear?”

Lysander’s jaw tightened. ”No.”

”Good.” Vaelor adjusted one of his gloves. ”Then answer the question.”

Lysander frowned. ”Nothing is happening.”

Vaelor’s expression didn’t change. ”Nothing?”

”Nothing.”

”You clothed her.” Vaelor tilted his head. ”And you sound defensive.”

Lysander immediately regretted speaking.

Vaelor took a slow step closer. ”Do you know why I dislike defensive people?”

Lysander remained silent again.

”Because innocent people answer questions.” His violet eyes settled on him. ”Guilty people justify themselves.”

The room became very still.

Lysander forced himself not to look away.

”Nothing is happening,” he repeated. ”I don’t know what you want to hear, but it hasn’t even been a month since she arrived.”

Vaelor watched him for several long seconds, then he nodded once. He turned away and returned to his desk.

”Because if something were happening,” he said quietly, opening his book again, ”I would be forced to remove the problem.”

Lysander’s stomach tightened.

Vaelor turned a page.

”And I would rather not remove you.” He clarified casually.