CHAPTER 17: BLONDIE - ONE WAY OR ANOTHER

"Yes! The wand of man’s pleasure," Luna deadpanned. "And I have never wanted to scream-laugh so badly in my life."

Kyllian cackled. "Okay, okay...go on, Princess."

Luna stood in front of him. "So you hold it like this. At a certain angle and then she said to kiss the tip. Tenderly."

Kyllian was very still now. The amusement had turned into something else, something that curled low in his stomach. His eyes, half-lidded, followed her hands with a growing intensity.

"Go on..." he said, voice husky.

She lifted the banana to her mouth and gently pressed her lips to the top of it, her brows furrowed in exaggerated confusion. "What part of the banana is the tip, Kyllian? They’re symmetrical. Is this why men are so weird about sex? Do your bananas come with instructions?"

He couldn’t breathe. He could not breathe. His pants were officially tight.

"Then," she continued, her tone both innocent and vaguely horrified, "she said to take it in my mouth and... lick it, like this."

She did. Just a slow, experimental flick of the tongue across the fruit. Not even seductive, not trying to be but holy hell, it might as well have been choreographed by sin itself.

Kyllian made a low sound. Something between a groan and a cough. "Luna."

"What?" she asked, eyes wide and tragically genuine. "Am I doing it wrong?"

"No. No, gods help me, that’s... disturbingly effective." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to compose himself, but it was a lost cause. His shorts betrayed him. The evidence of his growing discomfort was far from subtle.

She kept gesturing animatedly, eyes full of passion, cheeks red either from embarrassment or the banana’s traumatic fate. Luna’s voice rose and fell as she rambled about kissing techniques, gag reflexes, and why bananas had no right to be phallic-shaped.

But Kyllian? Kyllian heard none of it.

The world had gone silent around him. Her lips were moving, yes, but the sound was nothing more than a hum in the back of his head. His senses had locked in on her mouth, the way it curled when she said something sarcastic, the wet sheen from where she’d licked the banana, the slight part of her lips when she caught her breath. It was maddening. Utter torture.

With all the restraint of a starving man, he shot up from his seat, crossing the room in two strides. Luna didn’t even get a chance to blink before he yanked her gently but firmly to his chest. The poor banana, still in her hand, met a swift and tragic end as Kyllian snatched it and flung it over his shoulder.

"OW! What the hell?!" came Talon’s voice from the doorway. The banana had smacked him squarely in the forehead as he entered the room, mid-announcement.

"Get out!" Kyllian barked, his eyes never leaving Luna’s stunned face.

Talon, clearly used to this sort of chaos, just blinked. "Well alright then," he muttered, backing out slowly and rubbing his forehead. "Rude."

Luna barely got out a breathless "Wha..." before his mouth crashed into hers.

It wasn’t soft or tentative. It wasn’t experimental. It was a kiss forged from years of repression, of nights where he dreamt of her only to wake up aching. A kiss that screamed mine with every fiber of his being.

Kyllian kissed her like a man starved of her, like he had waited centuries to taste her lips and now that he had, he refused to stop. One hand curled around the back of her neck, tilting her head just right, while the other snaked around her waist, drawing her flush against him.

Luna, stunned for all of two seconds, finally gave in, gasping into the kiss, her hands gripping his shirt. Her knees buckled, and he felt it, felt her melt into him. She was his. Gods, she was his.

And yet, even in that blazing moment, Kyllian’s heart ached.

This wasn’t how he wanted her.

Not like this, after a ridiculous banana lesson, after an arrangement forced by politics. He had loved her from afar long before anyone thought of betrothing her.

She had been untouchable: the crown jewel of the realm. Too good, too important, too her. And he? Just a loyal warrior, a general. When she turned sixteen and came of age, his instincts had screamed to claim her. But he couldn’t.

Now she was to be his bride, but it didn’t feel like a love story. It felt like settling. Like he was the safe choice, the political choice.

Luna responded, her breath shallow as the weight of the kiss settled on her chest. She hadn’t meant to lean into it. She hadn’t meant to feel it. Curiosity, she told herself—pure scientific curiosity about what being married to Alpha Kyllian would feel like. That’s all it was. She’d kissed Damien before. Passionate, unforgettable, and nearly world-shattering. But this? Kyllian’s kiss was different. More heat than heart.

His lips had moved with a measured confidence, and there was something maddening about how in control he always was. His hand had curled around her waist. And for a brief, dangerous second, Luna had let herself wonder what if.

But then Damien’s face slipped into her mind.

She pulled back. "I... we shouldn’t. I mean, the wedding is in a few days."

Kyllian’s disappointment was palpable. His breath came a little harder, his jaw clenched, but he simply nodded. "Yes, it is." Then his eyes darkened, that Alpha presence coiling around him. "And I look forward to it. Because that night, beneath the full moon, I will place my mark on you, trigger your heat, and fuck you senseless for the days that follow."

Luna’s eyes widened in a horror but her traitorous body howled inside her.

"So I urge that you take your lessons seriously," he added with the ghost of a smirk. "You’ll need them."

And with that, he left. Because if he didn’t—if he stood there with her flushed, wide-eyed, he was going to do something...delightful.

He needed a cold shower.

*****

The next morning, Luna found herself standing in the shadow of the pack house’s terrace, arms crossed and still lost in the chaos of the previous night’s tension, watching Kyllian from a distance.

He was barefoot in the courtyard, barechested, loose joggers slung low on his hips as he trained the younger pups in basic defense. His hair gleamed under the sun, and when he laughed—it was that deep, belly-hugging laugh.

The kids adored him. They weren’t afraid to pounce, to tackle, to giggle when he pretended to get knocked down. He gave high-fives, cheered their progress, and praised their efforts. There was something heartbreakingly sweet about the way he bent down to adjust a girl’s stance or ruffled the hair of a boy who got it right on the first try.

Luna smiled, despite herself. This man—this Alpha—wasn’t just muscle and dominance and moonlit declarations of sex and submission. He was kind. He was someone’s role model. He was the kind of leader who got his hands dirty and played in the mud if it meant his pack felt seen and loved.

His muscles rippled. The rays of the sun danced across his skin, highlighting the sheen of sweat sliding down his naked chest, tracing the cut of his abs and disappearing beneath the waistband of his joggers that clung a little too temptingly to the promise beneath.

Luna felt a heat bloom in her cheeks. A traitorous thought crept in, bold and shameless: Did his actually look like the banana? The banana her teacher had ruthlessly wielded during that soul-scarring sex education class. She had been mortified. Kissing it. Licking it. Holding it. But now? Now she was curious. Desperately curious. Did all men look the same down there? Was the banana actually an accurate visual aid?

More importantly—was Kyllian betrayed by his body the way she felt she was by hers? Every time he was near, her thoughts melted, her knees weakened, and her core pulsed. Damien had always kept it together—controlled, measured, tragically noble. But Kyllian? Kyllian looked like a man barely holding it together. He vibrated between too little and too much, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to tame that or unleash it.

"You’re drooling, my princess. Very unladylike," came the smooth, amused voice beside her.

Luna jolted. "Stars above! Talon, you need a bell for your feet."

Talon only grinned as he joined her, casually leaning against the porch railing. "No fun being predictable. Besides, watching you watch him is my new favorite pastime."

She huffed, crossing her arms even as her eyes drifted back to Kyllian, now lifting a small pup by the waist and spinning him mid-air to correct his stance before setting him gently down.

"He’s a good man, Princess," Talon said after a beat, softer now. "He’s loyal, brave. And yeah, occasionally stupid, but in the noble kind of way."

"I know," she replied. "It’s just... he seems so happy here. Laughing with kids, rolling in the dirt, howling at the moon. And when we marry, he becomes the king’s son-in-law. He’ll be expected to sit in councils, wear stiff collars, debate tax reforms." She sighed, eyes distant. "Why would someone give up this for a crown and title?"