Bound by Fate: The Alpha's Luna

Chapter 10: A Lesson in Romance (Beta & Gamma POV)

Fenrir, the Beta, leaned back against the wooden desk in the pack's war room, a sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Lyra, the Gamma, was sitting cross-legged on the other side of the room, her head cocked to the side as she watched Alaric pace back and forth for what had to be the hundredth time that morning. His silver hair was tousled—well, more than usual—and his usually calm, authoritative demeanor was teetering dangerously close to frantic.

"She's going to think I'm an idiot," Alaric muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time.

"Well," Fenrir said, drawing out the word with a teasing lilt, "you have that whole stoic, silent warrior thing going for you, but it only works if you actually, you know, say something once in a while."

Lyra let out a snort. "Yeah, Alpha. You've got the brooding looks down, but staring at her like she's your next meal isn't exactly great for conversation."

Alaric shot them both a glare that might have been menacing if it weren't for the fact that he looked like a pup trying to impress his first crush. Fenrir couldn't resist leaning into the moment. This was, after all, a rare opportunity to see their ever-composed Alpha completely unraveling over a woman—his Luna, no less.

"Okay, okay," Fenrir said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Let's break this down. What's the problem? Why is talking to her such a Herculean task for you?"

Alaric stopped his pacing and sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I don't know what to say," he admitted, his voice low. "I've led battles, handled delicate negotiations with other packs, but when I'm around Isabella, I—"

"Turn into a giant, lovestruck wolf," Lyra finished, grinning. "Got it."

"Not helping," Alaric growled, but there was no real bite in his voice.

"Alright, big guy," Fenrir said, standing up and stretching. "Let's get to the root of this. The thing about talking to women—especially one like Isabella—is that you can't treat it like a strategy meeting or a battle plan."

"Yeah," Lyra added, her grin widening. "You're not trying to conquer a territory. You're trying to win her over. Big difference."

Alaric raised an eyebrow. "And how, exactly, do you suggest I do that?"

"Oh, this is going to be good," Fenrir muttered, leaning against the desk again, clearly enjoying every moment of this.

Lyra stood up, straightened her posture, and mimicked Alaric's authoritative stance, deepening her voice in an exaggerated manner. "Isabella," she said, her tone overly serious. "As your Alpha, I demand you feel comfortable and emotionally secure in my presence."

Fenrir let out a loud laugh, clutching his stomach. "Yes, because that'll work," he said between laughs. "You've really got a way with the ladies, Alpha."

Alaric pinched the bridge of his nose, trying—and failing—to hide his frustration. "I do not sound like that."

"Oh, you do," Lyra said, nodding solemnly. "Maybe not all the time, but when you get all... emotional? Definitely."

"Okay, okay," Fenrir said, holding up his hands. "In all seriousness, here's the deal: Isabella is smart. She can see through your brooding tough guy act. You need to be a bit... softer. You know, show her that the Alpha isn't just a growling, muscle-bound protector, but someone who can listen, who can... I don't know, talk about feelings or something."

"Feelings," Alaric said flatly, as if the word was foreign to him.

"Yes, feelings," Lyra echoed, stepping beside Fenrir. "Tell her how you feel. And, you know, don't sound like you're about to issue a pack decree when you do it."

Fenrir clapped his hands together, clearly pleased with himself. "You need to loosen up, Alaric. If you talk to Isabella like you're strategizing an attack, she's going to think you're planning her escape route, not confessing your undying affection."

Alaric looked unconvinced. "And what would you suggest I say?"

Fenrir exchanged a glance with Lyra, then straightened his posture, affecting an overly suave tone. "Try something like this: 'Isabella, I've never met anyone like you. When I'm around you, I forget how to be an Alpha because all I want is to be the man who makes you smile.'"

Lyra burst out laughing. "Wow, Fenrir. I didn't know you moonlighted as a romance novel character."

Alaric's eyebrows shot up. "I'm not saying that."

Fenrir grinned, shrugging. "Well, it worked on the Beta of the Silverclaw Pack, so I'm just saying..."

"Enough," Alaric growled, though the corner of his lips twitched in amusement.

Lyra, still snickering, waved a hand. "Look, just keep it simple. Be real with her. Drop the Alpha act for five minutes and just... be Alaric. Ask her how she's feeling. Tell her how you feel. You don't have to make some grand speech or dramatic declaration. Sometimes the simplest things mean the most."

Alaric's eyes softened for a moment, his expression becoming more thoughtful. "I... I just want her to know she's important to me."

"There you go," Lyra said, nudging Fenrir. "See? He can do it when he tries."

Fenrir slapped Alaric on the back. "And that, my friend, is the key. Show her she matters, and the rest will follow. You've got this. And if all else fails, just don't growl at her too much. Save that for the enemy."

Alaric shook his head, a half-smile finally breaking through his serious demeanor. "I'll take it under advisement."

As Alaric turned to leave the room, Fenrir leaned over to Lyra, whispering just loud enough for Alaric to hear, "I give it five minutes before he's back here asking us what to say again."

Lyra nodded sagely. "Yep. And next time, I'm charging for advice."

Alaric glanced back, rolling his eyes but unable to suppress the smile tugging at his lips. For the first time in days, he felt a little more confident—if his Beta and Gamma didn't manage to torment him into insanity first.