The Alpha’s Fated Outcast: Rise Of The Moonsinger

Chapter 264 264: The aftermath...

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...

hum leaving her lips before she

she saw me watching

voice was

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

and to say the truth, they looked warm and inviting. I tore my eyes from there and looked up

chest. Her first? She had been a

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

the hell had

angry. Not

didn't know what

couldn't tell. I spotted a discarded robe on the floor and snatched it up, shrugging it on as I

could feel Clarissa's eyes following me as

a generous glass of whiskey from the crystal decanter on the counter. I needed something to steady my nerves, to help

my lips, I downed it in

up behind me, sliding a hand up my back, pressing my tense

an empty stomach," she whispered, her breath

my throat but did nothing to ease the turmoil inside me. I

I hurled the empty glass across the room, watching it

She didn't even flinch.

bed. You pretended to be Lyla!" My voice rose with each accusation. "You're a vermin, and I hate you for deceiving

my words were affecting her, she didn't show it. She

I was her. I was only trying out a seduction tactic I learned earlier. I had no intention of lying

was shaking at this

You knew I thought you were Lyla, and you

Lyla?" She raised an eyebrow. "Did I ever

her explicitly claiming to be Lyla. Still, she had to have known. The room had been dark, I'd been drunk, and she hadn't

regret this," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "For deceiving me,

laughed—it was a bitter sound

she said. "You deceived me too, Nathan. You made me believe you cared about me, that I was

uncomfortably close to home. I had been using her, keeping her close because she was Lyla's

loud, urgent knock rattled the door. Without waiting for an answer, my father burst into the room, his face ashen, chest heaving as though

him, alarm cutting through my

on his knees, struggling to catch his breath. "Blue Ridge...pack,"

My stomach dropped.