Moonlit Resolves.

Two nights later, Aisling said goodnight to her maids and went to her room at the top of the west tower. After a quick shower, she dabbed on some lavender-scented lotion and slipped into her favorite comfy pajamas. Just as she was about to dive into her new book, she noticed her phone lighting up with a notification. 

It was a message from Fenrir: "Can't stop thinking about our last chat. Mind if I drop by?" 

She rolled her eyes. "Seriously?" she muttered. 

"Your words are as elegant as ever," his reply came, quick and laced with humor. 

"I'll block you," she typed back, half-serious. 

"You wouldn't dare," he responded. "You're too intrigued by the mystery that is me." 

"How did you even get my number?" she demanded. 

He sent a winking emoji. "I have my ways." 

She sighed, unsure whether to be annoyed or amused. "What do you want, Fenrir?" 

He sent a picture of two little parakeets. "Found these guys stranded. Thought you might help them find a home. You're good with animals, right?" 

She couldn't help but smile. "I can't even keep out a persistent wolf," she texted back. 

"Exactly why they'll be safe with you," he replied. "You've got a knack for taming wild things." 

She considered it for a moment. "Fine, bring them over. But this doesn't mean anything, got it?" 

He sent a thumbs-up emoji. "See you in a bit. And Aisling? I'm bringing your book back." 

She put down her phone, her heart racing a little. Fenrir was enigmatic, infuriating, and somehow… just what she needed to shake up her quiet life. 

Aisling was just settling into the rhythm of her evening when a soft knock on her window startled her. She approached cautiously, sliding the window open to find Fenrir perched outside with a playful grin. "እንዴት ነህ?" (Endet neh?) he greeted her in Amharic, which meant "How are you?" His voice held a hint of triumph. 

She raised an eyebrow, impressed despite herself. "አንተ ትምህርት አስተዋልክ?" (Ante timihirt astewalech?) she replied, asking "You learned Amharic?" 

His grin widened. "አዎን, አሁን ሽልማቴ እንደምን ነው?" (Awon, ahun shilmate endemin new?) "Yes, now what's my reward?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. 

She sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips. "You're relentless," she said, stepping back to let him in. "Quickly come in before someone sees you." 

Aisling couldn't believe her eyes. Fenrir had actually learned some Amharic, and now he was here, expecting a kiss as his reward. 

"I'm not letting you kiss me," she whispered fiercely. 

"If you don't, I will. It's even better that way," he replied with a grin that was almost too charming. 

She felt cornered. She knew he wouldn't rest until getting what he came for. The tension in the room was thick as she finally gave in, tilting her cheek towards him with her eyes shut tight. Instead of a cheek, she felt his lips press against her skin, lower, in the hollow between her collarbones. Her eyes flew open. "What are you doing?" she gasped. 

"I wanted to greet your wolf, so I kissed your heart," he whispered right by her ear. A shiver ran down her spine, leaving her uncertain if it was his words or the heat of his breath that affected her more. "I like him, I like him," her wolf seemed to chant excitedly within her. 

Seeing her tremble and the look in her eyes, Fenrir knew he had made an impression. "Good night, my Aisling," he murmured, then swung his leg over the windowsill to leave. 

Fenrir was resolute; Aisling was meant to be his. But he was aware she wouldn't easily accept him. Her love for her late mate, Aiden, was a formidable obstacle. Stories from Finn about their profound bond had left Fenrir feeling uncertain. How could he rival a cherished memory, an idealized love? Yet, his determination was unwavering. He was tangible, alive, and he intended to dispel the shadows of the past. He might never sway her strong-willed mind, but he was committed to winning her heart, by any means necessary. 

Fenrir, the alpha warlord, lay on his plush bed, the events of the night replaying in his mind. The thrill of the encounter with Aisling, the anticipation of what was to come, it all left him and his wolf restless with excitement. Aisling Freya, with her fiery spirit and untamed heart, was the one he had chosen. She was to be his mate, his wife, the queen to his kingdom. 

As the city lights twinkled like distant stars outside his window, Fenrir's thoughts were a whirlwind of strategy and desire. His erratic imagination had already pictured her in every state of undress, in every erotic position known to man and wolf. The sight and scent of her inflamed him to such a degree she had almost become an obsession. 

Whenever he closed his eyes, her image was there on the inside of his eyelids. He envisioned what it would be like to undress her slowly, uncovering her ripe young body to adore with his hands and his mouth. Even his wolf had a savage hungry craving to touch her, smell her, taste her. What was this fatal fascination he felt toward her? Was it her exquisite beauty? Was it because she was supposed to be his chosen mate? The answer to every question came back yes. 

The thought of her delicate, small form was irresistible to him, and he would know no peace until he had joined his powerful body to hers. If only he could make her desire him as he did her. Perhaps he could pander to her senses and enchant her body. If he could make her crave his caresses, make her need his lovemaking like a drug, even if it was all in secrecy, he would be more than willing. He would have to make her break her vow of solitude. Not to coerce, but to offer a different path, a chance at a future filled with the warmth of companionship and a second chance in love. 

Aisling sat on the end of the bed, her gaze fixed on the moon that shone brightly in the cloudless night sky. The warlord's words echoed in her mind, a relentless whisper against the backdrop of the silent night. She hadn't needed him to tell her that giving up on life was not an option; she had felt that truth in her heart all along. 

She faced the facts squarely. She loved Aiden and would always love him, but a vow of solitude would not bring him back, nor would it ease the pain she suffered over his death. Her grief had driven her to seek an escape, and just as suicide would have been wrong, so was the idea of becoming a recluse. Aisling knew she was lonely. 

Aiden had been the dream she had lived for, and the moment she had realized that dream, she had lost it. She had tried to hold on to his memory, to the love they shared, but she understood now that living in the past was preventing her from embracing the present. Her heart ached with loss, but the warlord's words had stirred something within her; a desire to live, to feel, to love again. 

Aisling knew she couldn't spend her life in mourning. She was young and had so much ahead of her. She wanted to experience joy, passion, and the fullness of life. She wanted to fulfill her duty to her pack, to be the leader they needed. And perhaps, just perhaps, she could find love again. 

The moon's glow bathed the room in a soft light, casting serene shadows that danced with the promise of a new beginning. She had made a promise to herself, and she intended to keep it. She would honor Aiden's memory by living a life he would be proud of, by leading her pack with strength and compassion. 

Aisling took a deep breath, her decision made. She would have to break the vow of solitude. Instead, she would embrace the future, with all its uncertainties and possibilities. She would face it head-on, with the courage and determination that had always been within her. 

 The night passed, and as the first light of dawn began to mingle with the moon's fading glow, Aisling felt a sense of peace settle over her.