Hades' Cursed Luna

Chapter 85 - 85: A Willing Teacher

Eve~

Kael blinked, clearly taken aback by my request. For a moment, I worried I'd crossed some line or made a fool of myself. My heart pounded as I rushed to explain, the words tumbling out in a flood.

"I just… I've been feeling helpless lately, and I hate it. I can't keep depending on others to protect me. Jules has been amazing, but—" I paused,

And then there was knotting.

Knotting was the pinnacle of the mating bond, the act that solidified a pair's connection. When a Lycan knotted their mate, it wasn't just about coupling—it was an unbreakable claim. The process was deeply instinctual, primal, and undeniably binding. The knot, once swollen and locked within the mate, served as a biological assurance that the bond was sealed.

But I had been abstinent for so long, using anything else as an outlet. I was different from my Lycan subordinates, that was why there were some exceptions for me. Yet, exceptions could only go so far.

There were no such things as interspecie mates. So Ellen had no right to be able to drive me mad with this amount of craving. It was unprecedented. It had only gotten worse since I tasted that damn wine.

But there was something else. Something I'd been avoiding.

The temptation was locked away, hidden behind the imposing mahogany doors of my cabinet. It had been there for weeks, untouched but never forgotten. A single bottle—Lucinda's so-called apology. It wasn't just any vintage; it was special. I knew exactly what it was, even before her note had confirmed it.

"For old times and new alliances, Hades. A gift born of my finest craftsmanship and your greatest enemy. Enjoy responsibly."

Lucinda had always been a manipulative creature, her every action laced with ulterior motives. This gift wasn't just an olive branch—it was a calculated move. And I hated how well she knew me.

I stood, my chair scraping against the floor as I pushed it back. My steps were deliberate, the distance to the cabinet feeling longer than it should. My hand hesitated on the polished brass handle, my reflection distorted in its gleam.

This was a mistake.

And yet, I opened it.

The interior of the cabinet was immaculate, the shelves lined with bottles from across centuries. Each one told a story, a fragment of history captured in glass. But my eyes were drawn to the lone bottle set apart from the rest. Its dark, slender neck bore no label, only the faint imprint of Montegue family crest etched into the glass.

I reached for it, my fingers brushing against the cool surface. The weight of it was familiar yet unbearable. It felt alive in my hand, as though it carried more than just wine within.

I didn't bother with a glass this time. Pulling the stopper free, I brought the bottle to my lips and took a tentative sip.

The effect was immediate.

Warmth spread through me, rich and all-consuming. The taste was… divine. A rush of wild sweetness flooded my senses, followed by an intricate dance of flavours I couldn't fully comprehend. It was her. Every part of her—fierce, vibrant, and utterly unyielding. It was the fiery strength in her eyes, the softness in her voice when she let her guard down, the unspoken defiance that dared me to challenge her.

I closed my eyes, savouring the moment even as guilt coiled in my chest. This wasn't just indulgence; it was something far darker. Every drop was a betrayal of my better judgement, a concession to the part of me that refused to let her go.

The air shifted, heavy with unspoken truths. The bottle in my hand felt both precious and damning, a symbol of everything I couldn't have but couldn't resist.

I set it down, my breaths uneven as I wrestled with the conflict raging within me. She was more than a distraction. More than an obsession. And this—this was a reminder of just how far I'd fallen. I just need to claim her once, have her writhing beneath me and I would be able to think straight. This obsession would fall away like chains.

But even as I tried to pull myself back, I knew I would take another sip.

And another.

Because the taste of her wasn't something I could give up. Not now. Not until I was satisfied and she meant nothing.