The Eclipse (MXM)

CHAPTER 16: DECLARATIONS 🌖

"An enemy of my mate is an enemy of mine. A threat to my mate is a threat to me. I'm not just an Alpha. I'm your Alpha. I belong to you, even if you choose never to belong to me. That won't change, even if you reject me. I'll follow you like a loyal dog, waiting on your every call if that's what it takes to gain your trust and ease your doubts."

His bold declarations caught me off guard. If not for the bond, I might have been skeptical, but the imprint wouldn't allow it.

"It may be uncomfortable here for a while, but I beg you to bear with it. That's the one selfish request I ask. I'll shield you from as much as I can. I promise to respect your boundaries and fulfill all your demands. I just want you to get to know me, and I'd like the chance to know you too. I'm on your side, Roselyn. Not my mother's, not the pack's—yours. Even when I thought you were dead, I never betrayed you, and I never will."

The imprint thrummed at his final proclamation, making my heart race. My doubts withered like a wilting flower, and I could no longer downplay what was so clearly in front of me. We were bonded more intricately and intimately than I'd ever been with anyone. No wonder he was so hurt by my words. I realized then how I might feel if he ever said the same about me. It was overwhelming and confusing, so I opted to change the subject.

"Why does everyone think I was dead? I've heard this a few times now," I asked him as he stood up.

"Lord Ember spread word that you succumbed to grief after your mother's death, claiming you committed suicide. Your old royal garments were found at the edge of Sol pack territory by a waterfall," he said, clearly upset by the false allegation.

"As if he'd just allow an Omega of royal blood to leave," I scoffed. "The Alpha you fought, Alec, was a spy and a tormentor on my father's behalf. For years." I scowled, and I could feel his rage bubbling under his stoic expression, his pheromones now riddled with musk.

The thickness of his scent made the small hairs on my arms stand on end, goosebumps rising in response.

"How so?" he asked in a dark tone, his brow furrowed.

"I— He never... penetrated me, if that's what you're asking, but... there were other things. I'd rather not recall them all. There are far too many uncomfortable occurrences to name." Shame weighed on me, though it was never mine to bear. Yet, it stayed with me all the same. A scarlet letter carved into my very skin undeservedly.

At that moment, I realized Tsuki was still holding my hand tightly. He pulled me into a bear hug—protective and almost nostalgic. A memory of a smiling boy with a missing canine, obsidian skin, and long silver hair like curled silk flashed in my mind. A sense of protection washed over me, and the smell of tonka beans, once overbearing, now felt lighter—protective and calming. Without thinking, I hugged him back as a sadness I hadn't allowed myself to feel for so long took over. My body trembled as tears left my eyes, and I buried my face in his chest to stifle my cries.

A hand cradled the back of my head as he spoke in a cracked voice. "They will pay. Everyone who has harmed you will pay. If you trust nothing else that I say, I pray to Artemis that you trust these words." He pulled back to wipe my tears, and I was shocked to see that he too was crying. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm so sorry. That shame you carry, give it to me. I will take it from you now, and once it's turned to vindication, I'll hand it back for you to burn into ashes," he said, his voice full of determination.

I was taken aback by his sincerity. I'd feared Alphas for so long; it felt strange to finally have one on my side, someone I could trust. It seemed surreal, yet it brought me a sense of relief. Being with Jodi and Izzy had provided comfort over the years, a chosen familial bond I thought I'd lost long ago when I left home. But it often felt like I was their protector, given I was older than them growing up. Even now, as adults, despite how often they've had my back, I was the backbone of our group. I had to be the strong one, bearing the brunt of responsibility when things went wrong. That was my role, one I took pride in. I'd never had the luxury of feeling like this—letting someone else take the weight off my shoulders. Is this what it means to have an imprint, a mate? To finally have someone to share my burdens, my anger, my shame?