Avenging Luna
Chapter 146: Chase Brother

Chapter 146: Chase Brother

Chase’s POV:

The night seemed endless, and sleep was a distant thought. Instead, I lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts consumed by her—by us.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the moment she allowed me to hold her. Her warmth against my cold skin was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It wasn’t just physical—it was grounding. Her heartbeat had been steady but vulnerable, as if she were battling to keep control while her walls began to crack.

And then, there were her tears.

Leila crying wasn’t what I expected. In all our time together, she’d been strong, determined, and unshakable, even when I’d pushed her. But tonight... she let herself feel. She didn’t fight me off or snarl some cutting remark to push me away. She let me see her, and that... that was everything.

For the first time, I truly felt the weight of her pain and her strength. It wasn’t just that she’d been hurt before—it was that she’d survived. She wasn’t just scared of me; she was scared of hope, scared of believing in something again.

And gods, I wanted to be that something.

My fingers brushed over the fabric of the couch as if I could still feel the warmth of her skin lingering on mine. Her scent, faint and intoxicating, was everywhere, but I hadn’t realized just how much it could unnerve me until now.

I ran a hand through my hair, sitting up. What was wrong with me? I was the crown prince of a kingdom, the leader of my people, a warrior feared and respected—and here I was, unraveled by a single moment with my mate.

But wasn’t that the point?

She was my beloved, my mate, the other half of my existence. Feeling this deeply, this intensely—it wasn’t weakness. It was destiny.

Still, it left me unbalanced. I needed to do something, anything to keep my focus, but the thought of leaving her alone, even for a moment, was unbearable. I glanced at the closed bedroom door where she and Ash slept. They were safe, I told myself. My guards were stationed discreetly around the hotel, and no threat would touch them while I was here.

Yet I couldn’t shake the nagging thought that I needed to do more.

With a resigned sigh, I grabbed my phone, searching for distractions. Instead, my fingers hovered over the keyboard, and before I could stop myself, I was typing: Why do women cry?

Yes, I know—ridiculous. The crown prince of vampires, turning to a human search engine for answers. But I was desperate to understand.

The results were a mess of conflicting explanations: hormonal shifts, stress relief, emotional bonding. One article said crying was a sign of vulnerability and trust, while another claimed it was an evolutionary mechanism for soliciting care from others.

None of it seemed to apply to Leila.

She wasn’t weak or manipulative, and she certainly wasn’t looking for pity. Her tears were raw, unguarded. They’d felt like an apology and a confession all at once—an acknowledgment that she was scared, but maybe, just maybe, she was starting to trust me.

That realization hit me harder than I expected.

She trusted me.

Not entirely, of course, and not without hesitation, but it was a start. For someone like Leila, whose every instinct screamed self-preservation, that was monumental.

I set my phone down and leaned back, a small smile tugging at my lips. If her tears were a sign of progress, then I’d take it. She didn’t need to say the words or declare her feelings outright. I didn’t need her to fall into my arms and accept our bond immediately.

All I needed was the chance to prove that I wasn’t like the others who had hurt her.

I glanced at the door again, my chest tightening at the thought of her sleeping just beyond it. The idea of crawling into bed beside her, feeling her warmth, hearing her heartbeat—it was almost too much to resist.

But no, not yet.

She wasn’t ready, and I wouldn’t rush her.

For now, I would take the memory of her in my arms and hold onto it like a lifeline. Because for the first time in centuries, I felt like I was truly alive. And I wasn’t about to let that go.

Not now. Not ever.

****

Chase’s POV:

The morning came quickly, though I felt like I hadn’t rested at all—not in the way I wanted to, at least. My thoughts had kept me awake, replaying the moment Leila allowed herself to soften in my arms. It was a rare, vulnerable glimpse of her true self, and it left me feeling both elated and determined.

Still, I woke before dawn, my usual routine. I found myself moving through the kitchen with a strange lightness, almost giddy. It was the kind of energy I hadn’t felt in centuries—maybe ever. My mind was racing with plans for breakfast, and before I knew it, I was scrolling through songs on my phone, picking one with a beat to match my mood.

As the music filled the suite, I couldn’t help but sway to the rhythm. Before long, I was full-on dancing, flipping pancakes and chopping fruit to the beat. It was ridiculous, I knew, but I didn’t care.

The sound of giggles pulled me out of my little world. I turned to see Ash standing in the doorway, his face split in a wide grin.

"Are you... dancing?" he asked, his little voice brimming with laughter.

"Your moves need work," Ash small voice giggled.

He had a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

"Oh, yeah?" I challenged, tossing the spatula aside and pointing at him dramatically. "Show me how it’s done, then!"

Ash didn’t need to be told twice. He jumped right in, his tiny frame moving with reckless abandon, arms flailing in time with the music. I couldn’t help but laugh as I joined him, the two of us creating what I was sure would go down in history as the worst dance routine ever.

But Ash didn’t care. He was laughing so hard his little face turned red, and his joy was infectious.

"Alright, alright," I said, holding up my hands in surrender when the next song started. "How about you help me with breakfast before your mom walks in and sees us like this?"

Ash grinned, still breathless, but nodded enthusiastically. He pulled over a stool and climbed up to reach the counter, eagerly grabbing the nearest mixing bowl. We worked together, cracking eggs and flipping pancakes while the music continued to play in the background.

The little wolf was chatty, peppering me with questions about vampires, my kingdom, and whether I’d ever met a dragon. His curiosity was endless, and I answered as best as I could, though I may have exaggerated a few stories to make them more exciting.

"You’re cool," he declared suddenly, looking up at me with those wide, trusting eyes.

I froze, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.

"Thanks, kid," I said after a moment, ruffling his hair. "You’re not so bad yourself."

We started dancing again between flipping pancakes and setting the table. Ash even tried to spin me at one point, which resulted in both of us collapsing into laughter.

And that’s when Leila walked in.

Her hair was slightly tousled, her expression a mix of curiosity and amusement as she stood in the doorway, watching us with her arms crossed.

"Well, isn’t this a sight," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Mom!" Ash called out, waving her over. "Come dance with us!"

"Oh, I don’t think so," she said, shaking her head. "I’m fine just watching you two make fools of yourselves."

But Ash was relentless. He jumped down from the stool and ran to her, grabbing her hand and tugging her toward the kitchen.

"Come on, Mom! It’s fun!"

I leaned casually against the counter, smirking as I crossed my arms. "You heard him, Leila. Don’t leave us hanging."

She shot me a glare that was more playful than threatening, but her resistance was crumbling.

"Fine," she muttered, letting Ash drag her into the center of the kitchen.

The music picked up again, and I wasted no time joining them. Ash started showing off his moves again, and I exaggerated my own to make him laugh. Leila, to my surprise, began to sway to the beat, a small smile creeping onto her face despite her best efforts to hide it.

"There we go!" I said, clapping my hands. "Now you’re getting it!"

She rolled her eyes but didn’t stop moving. And for a moment, it was just the three of us, laughing and dancing like there was no danger waiting for us outside these walls.

In that moment, we weren’t a vampire, a wolf, and a woman scarred by her past.

We were just... a family.

Even if she wouldn’t admit it yet.

Chase’s POV

Just as we sat down to eat, a sharp knock broke through the laughter and calm of the morning.

I froze.

Even before I opened the door, I knew exactly who was on the other side. And I didn’t like it one bit.

Damon. My brother.

The door creaked open, revealing his infuriatingly smug grin.

"Ah, Chase, big bro!" he drawled, leaning casually against the doorframe as if he owned the place. "Mate life is really good for you, isn’t it?"

I didn’t bother to hide my irritation. "What do you want, Damon?"

Before I could get another word in, he leaned past me, his sharp gaze scanning the room. "So... where’s my sister-in-law? Last time we met, she disappeared on me after breaking my neck. That little she-wolf’s got some fire!"

Leila’s voice cut through the room like a whip. "That’s because you were a dick."

She appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel, her piercing eyes locking on Damon with a mix of defiance and irritation.

Damon’s grin widened. "Ah, there she is. You know, you nearly made Chase here kill me for letting you go, right?"

Leila smirked, unfazed. "Well, it’s unfortunate you’re still alive."

The corner of my mouth twitched, but I quickly masked it with a glare. "Why are you here, Damon?"

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Whoa, easy there. Before I answer that, I need some food. I’m famished, and I can smell something sweet—are those pancakes?"

"Damon—" I started, but before I could finish, he zoomed past me straight into the kitchen.

I immediately followed, moving just as fast, while Leila hurried after us.

When I entered the kitchen, Damon was frozen mid-step. His usually playful demeanor was gone, replaced by something I rarely saw in him—shock.

He was staring at Ash.

Ash, sitting at the counter with his pancake plate, smiled brightly at Damon. "Hi! You look like Uncle Chase—except your hair is messier."

Damon blinked, his mouth opening slightly, then closing again. He looked at Ash, then at me, then back at Ash.