Chapter 90: Nice Bait. Wrong Girl.

The double doors opened.

Nova and Maria entered a formal dining room.

Derek was in conversation with Tavian, Alpha Thunderfang, and Sebastian. All four looked up. Whatever Derek had been saying died on his tongue.

He crossed the room, reaching for her. With zero hesitation, he tossed her in the air and caught her by her thighs the way he had earlier, holding her so she was taller than him. Her hands found his shoulders for balance. She looked down at him with a fondness that she felt in her chest.

He flashed a devilish smirk back at her. "Did you miss me?"

"Yes," she answered with zero hesitation. "But if you rip your gift to me, I will never forgive you because I love it so much."

It was true. This dress was her absolute favorite now.

Derek opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Derek Thunderfang, the man who had delivered a real-time roast of Celeste Starborne during a sacred ceremony, who had narrated his own heroics mid-sprint, who had talked shit to two Alphas while holding a sword, was standing in a dining room holding his mate in the air with his mouth open and his brain buffering.

Tavian had also closed the distance to Maria. He pulled her into a hug, then his eyes landed on Derek.

"Fuck it."

"Tav, don’t you—"

Tavian tossed her up in the air, catching her around the thighs, identical to how Derek was holding Nova.

"What Nova just said, Tavian. If you rip this dress, I swear to every god that exists and several that don’t—" Her eyes landed on Derek and Nova who were both watching this interaction like they weren’t doing the exact same thing. Maria pivoted without missing a syllable. "Oh, right. While I have you. I’m not on your mindlink yet. Who is the person to speak with for issues regarding a room?"

Nova’s eyes widened for half a second. She had not been expecting that.

"What issue?" Tavian asked.

"There’s a scent in Nova’s room that is wrong. My wolf recoiled at it. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t like it. And her room has no heat. There are no matches for her to light a fire either."

Nova gave Maria a flat look that said, really, we are bringing up the heat right now.

Maria returned the flat look with her own, you are living in a shoebox, Nova.

Nova returned it with a look that said, that shoebox is the nicest room I have ever stayed in.

Maria fired back with a look that said, I don’t care. It doesn’t pass the Emberclaw inspection.

The entire exchange took three seconds and contained zero words and an entire conversation that no one else would understand.

"Done. Someone is taking a look. They’re moving her things out of it though, so it’ll be after," Tavian said.

Nova blinked and looked down at Derek. Moving her things? That was also a surprise.

Maria’s hand flew to her chest. "Thank the Goddess."

"Nova, let’s clear something up," Tavian began.

Derek’s head snapped to him. "Tavian, I swear on every god if you—"

"Your mate." Tavian looked at Nova. "Be honest. Did you ditch him for personal space? His feelings are hurt."

Nova’s mouth opened, then closed. Hurting Derek’s feelings was the last thing she had meant to do. And the thought of him thinking she wanted space was so unexpected she almost laughed.

Before she could say anything, Tavian translated her reaction to Derek.

"See, buddy, I told you that wasn’t it," he said, with the satisfaction of a man who had embarrassed Derek Thunderfang and won an argument at the same time.

"That’s not what I said, Tavian."

"It’s what you meant."

"It is absolutely not what I meant."

"I was concerned."

"You were pouting."

"I was concerned about her health."

"You were pouting about her location."

Derek looked at Nova. Then at Tavian. Then at the ceiling like the ceiling might intervene on his behalf.

"I’m going to need everyone in this room to stop talking about my feelings. I don’t do those."

He lowered Nova slowly, his hands sliding from her thighs to her waist to her hips with the reluctance of a man returning something he had borrowed and intended to steal again later. Her shoes touched the floor and his hands stayed where they were because letting go was a concept Derek Thunderfang had never successfully executed.

"You look—" He stopped. Started over. Stopped again. His jaw worked like the sentence was stuck in a door. "You are—"

"His mouth has never lost," Sebastian commented to the room at large. "This is historic."

"Someone write it down," Tavian agreed.

"I am being publicly attacked in my own dining room by my own Beta and my own Gamma while holding the most beautiful woman in Helix. This is treason."

Nova’s face heated, which made Derek grin, entirely too pleased with that.

Before she could respond, he pivoted towards the table like the last three minutes hadn’t happened, pulling her with him.

Half the seats were filled already with elders and high-ranking officers, all mid-conversation. Nobody spared her a second glance. No double-takes. No whispered consultations. No synchronized head-turns of a panel building a case with their eyebrows. She was just a girl walking to a seat, and the invisibility of it was the most welcoming thing that had happened to her since the glowing flower.

There was no nametag for her. Every other seat had one. The seat next to Derek’s didn’t, which meant someone had removed a name to make room for hers, or no one had expected her to be here and the empty seat was a coincidence.

Derek brought her hand to his lips, then pulled out the chair for her. The gesture was small. The weight of it was not. She sat before her eyes could do something embarrassing.

Just when he sat next to her, the doors opened again.

Every person at the table stood. Nova did automatically.

The High Luna entered with Celeste on her arm. Celeste’s chin was lifted and she looked every inch the future Luna of Thunderfang.

Nobody sat. Nobody shifted. Forty wolves stood in silence and waited.

The High Luna took her seat. Celeste sat beside her. Then the room followed.

The High Luna did not spare her a glance. Nova let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. That meant she was in the clear. The High Luna had bigger problems than a slave at the table.

Conversation settled into the rhythm of a formal dinner. Politics. Pack business. Trade routes that Nova understood from reading. Nova listened, finding it all fascinating.

Then, out of nowhere, the High Luna’s voice cut across the table.

"For a slave, she is refined."

The sentence was meant for Celeste but the entire table heard. It was also said like Nova wasn’t there.

Celeste didn’t miss a beat. "That is because she was raised in the Starborne manor. Her sole purpose was to be sold."

Nova chose this moment to take a sip of her white wine. The wine was crisp and cold and gave her mouth something to focus on that wasn’t the fact that half of the table was watching her.

She knew what the goal of that was and was not going to play the game. If the High Luna or the future Luna were looking for a reaction, they were not going to get one from her.