The Alpha's Fated Outcast Rise Of The Moonsinger novel Chapter 264

Nathan

I woke up feeling like I was floating.

For the first time in years, I felt light, sated, fulfilled.

Lyla.

I couldn't help the smile that spread across my face as memories of last night flooded back. Her soft sighs, the way she fit against me, the way she looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered.

After twenty-six years of waiting, of restraint, I'd finally given myself to the woman I loved—the woman who was destined to be my Luna. I'd always believed that my first time should be with my true mate, and now it had happened. Lyla had come to me willingly and had initiated everything. It was better than I could have ever imagined.

I stretched languidly, feeling my muscles protest slightly. As I moved, I felt her stir beside me. I stilled, not wanting to wake her just yet. I wanted to savour this moment, this victory. After she settled back into sleep, I turned onto my back, letting my eyes roam lazily over her form, the way the golden morning light cast a warm glow over her bare skin.

And then—

All the hairs at the back of my neck stood and my breath caught in my throat as I stared at the form. Blonde hair splayed across the pillow where brown should have been.

It was blonde.

Blonde.

I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision and convince myself that it was just a trick of the light.

A creeping unease slithered down my spine. Lyla was a brunette. Had she dyed her hair?

When did she dye her hair? I was sure she was a brunette yesterday when I had picked her up from the Northern Forest. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, I reached out to brush the golden strands away from her face.

The moment her face came into view, my entire body went rigid and the world stopped.

It wasn't Lyla lying next to me. It was Clarissa.

I just lay there, staring at her, wondering if I was trapped in some bizarre nightmare. This couldn't be real. No. No, this had to be a dream. Some kind of sick, twisted nightmare.

Last night I was with Lyla. I remembered her scent, her touch, her voice...

Clarissa stirred, a small, satisfied hum leaving her lips before she blinked up at me, smiling.

Her eyes fluttered open. When she saw me watching her, a slow, satisfied smile spread across her face.

"Good morning," she murmured, her voice was still thick with sleep.

I couldn't speak. My mind was racing, trying to make sense of what was happening. How had this happened? Where was Lyla? I was sure it was her yesterday. What was going on here? When did Clarissa come to my bed and why wasn't I aware?

Clarissa propped herself up on one elbow, not bothering to cover her ample bosom. They stared at me with their pinkish bud and to say the truth, they looked warm and inviting. I tore my eyes from there and looked up at her. Her smile had faltered slightly at my silence. "Last night was amazing, the best night of my life, Nathan. I'm glad my first time was with you."

An icy sensation gripped my chest. Her first? She had been a virgin too?

My stomach churned violently at the implication. I threw off the covers and swung my legs off the bed. I needed to get up. I needed to breathe. I practically leapt from the bed. My body was tense, my hands had curled into fists at my sides.

What the hell had just happened?

I wasn't angry. Not yet.

I didn't know what I was.

The room spun slightly as I took a step, whether, from the lingering effects of last night's alcohol or the shock, I couldn't tell. I spotted a discarded robe on the floor and snatched it up, shrugging it on as I strode toward the kitchenette, my mind racing.

I could feel Clarissa's eyes following me as I moved across the room.

My hands shook as I poured myself a generous glass of whiskey from the crystal decanter on the counter. I needed something to steady my nerves, to help me process what had happened.

Lifting the glass to my lips, I downed it in one go.

I felt Clarissa's presence before I heard her. She came up behind me, sliding a hand up my back, pressing my tense muscles with her fingers.

"You shouldn't drink on an empty stomach," she whispered, her breath warm against my neck.

I ignored her, downing another glass of whiskey in one burning gulp. The alcohol scorched a path down my throat but did nothing to ease the turmoil inside me. I reached for the decanter again, ready to pour another, when Clarissa's hand closed over mine, stopping me.