The Queen's Conquer

Chapter 21 : A Moon and its Stars

Halcyon • [hal-see-uhn]
Calm and peaceful; happy, prosperous.

🖤

~+~

It's long after dawn by the time we leave that beautiful view behind to return to the manor. And when we do, Samuel and I spend a long time washing off in the massive ensuite bathroom attached to that sultry bedroom which still lays in ruins from last night's shenanigans.

I'm the first to exit the bathroom, somehow just now clearly taking in the sight of our wreckage. I run a weary hand through my freshly-washed hair, clutching a towel around my still-sore body as my eyes scan over the space: black silken sheets either halfway off the mattress or slightly tampered with shreds running through their ends—a full accident on our part if I'm being wholly honest; the food tray now a complete nightmare, some bits and pieces from our messy eating tossed elsewhere; wine glasses and several champagne bottles scattered around the room—and somehow we still managed to stay half-sane during the entire evening despite how much alcohol was fuming through our bloodstreams.

I have to remind myself to breathe just so my heart doesn't stutter at the sight of our destruction. A familiar male's scent looms from behind, joining me in the doorway that merges the two rooms—and also stiffens at what I'm witnessing.

He inhales after long moments of awe—or maybe even guilt and realization—before leaning down to kiss my bare shoulder. "I'll make sure it's properly paid for. And replaced," Samuel says in one great, heavy exhale.

I shake my head, laughing faintly into the stillness of the room. "I didn't even realize we..." I swallow. "I mean, it couldn't have been..."

"We are half-beasts after all, Anastasia," he reminds me, a slight edge of amusement lingering in his words as he returns to the bathroom. I nearly scoff at the deranged excuse, but then he adds, "There are clothes on the dresser for you."

I have to physically shake myself out of the trance just so my eyes can look at the neat stack across the room—the only part of this scene that looks semi-decent. Not ravaged.

I reach the belongings Samuel brought, picking out the leggings, sweater, and undergarments and slipping them on. When I pull my long, damp hair out of the sweater after sliding the warm cotton over my head, my body suddenly stills with my hair half-up, eyes widening at the sight of my neck—my mark.

I gape, scooping more of my hair away from the sensitive area and turning my skin towards the natural lighting to get a better look at it from various angles. Only a few inches below my ear lays a design of a crescent moon complemented with six inky stars, all aligned along the backbone of the moon's curve. I stare for a few unnerving moments at the tattoo before finally extending my slim fingers to touch it.

The same bliss fills my veins when I do, but something more—greater than just that euphoric fulfillment swells from deep within. As though the seal of my placement in this pack has been fortified.

The cocky male I call my mate returns and is now fully clothed in jeans and a long sleeve as he begins gathering our things. But his eyes find my reflection instantaneously—and what I'm gawking at. Samuel freezes briefly, no sign of that childish delight over his features anymore. Then he begins his slow walk over, tossing the black bag he was once holding onto the chaotic bed.

When he's only a few feet away does he finally cease his prowling to stare at the tattoo from a semi-safe distance, my body now a hot mess with the way his eyes burn against my skin. I pivot to face him and release my hair, allowing it to cover the mark while a soft blush spreads over my cheeks.