Moonlight Confessions

The moon hung low over the dense forests surrounding the Crimson Moon Pack's territory, casting the world in shades of indigo and pearl. For generations, the forest's edge had been an uneasy border where the disciplined strength of the werewolves met the ancient, mystical grace of the Moon Shadow Coven.

Aries , Alpha of the Crimson Moon Pack, waited in the gazebo, fidgeting as he adjusted the cuff of his expensive shirt for the hundredth time. He was a man shaped by mountain granite and wild wind. His presence filled any room; his eyes held the wisdom of a seasoned leader; and his physique revealed a life dedicated to mastering primal strength. Tonight he was a general getting ready for battle, his own composure was his enemy. The gazebo was filled with the intoxicating scent of lilac and roses. This scent lingered heavily in the twilight air, a perfume that always made Aries think of her—Milicent De la Lune, High Priestess of the Moon Shadow Coven. The witch who had lived quietly in his heart since they were children, chasing fireflies along the ley line that divided their lands.

Aries and Milicent had known each other since childhood. Milicent’s world was filled with ancient druidic magic and lunar reverence, while primal instincts and territorial loyalty drove Aries. Worlds that remained separate, connected only by a fragile, generations-old peace treaty.

Ten years ago, at the Great Clan Ball, they’d danced. For Aries, the world had shrunk to the space between them. The electricity had been undeniable and unforgettable. The memory, sharp and clear as a winter star, had haunted him for a decade. He hadn’t cared about the whispers, the disapproving glances from his elders,  the shocked silence from her coven. The elders thought they were discussing peace treaties. At that moment, only the music, the scent of her—sugar, sage, lilac and ozone—and the overwhelming feeling of rightness mattered. His wolf, a creature of pure instinct, had stilled inside him and laid its head down, content. It had known what his conscious mind had taken ten years to admit.

Mate.

The gentle chime of the boundary charm announced her arrival. His heart, a heavy drum against his ribs, raced faster. He heard her light footsteps on the gravel path, the soft whisper of her dress, and the quickening of her breath as she neared the garden.

Tonight started with a work call, or so Aries had presented it. His deep voice, a rumble that always sent a shiver down her spine, sounded almost casual over the phone. Asking Millie to come and discuss the Vampire Treaty talks. Millie was cautious but curious. Aries rarely called her outside their usual council meetings. Yet, a quiet instinct, a whisper from the moon within her, urged her to go.

Millie had loved Aries since she was a gangly ten-year-old, captivated by his fierce protectiveness and the hint of mischief in his wolf-gold eyes. Her crush had grown into a deep, aching love over the years, a forbidden emotion she carefully guarded. Werewolves and witches were not supposed to mix, especially not in such a personal way. Their roles as leaders only made the burden of this unspoken taboo heavier.

Milicent carried her title with quiet dignity. She was familiar with arcane energies and political negotiations. Yet, tonight felt different. As she walked along the grand, winding path to Aries’ ancestral home, the scent of blooming night jasmine and damp earth filled the air. She had expected the plain, slightly rustic office of the Alpha, ready to review pages detailing the complex, three-way negotiations with the notorious Bach, leader of the Vampire Clans.

Instead, a young beta guided her through the expansive, carefully maintained gardens, past ancient oak trees and moonlit fountains. The path grew softer, paved with finely crushed stone, and then, through a curtain of weeping willow branches, she saw it.

Pausing at the entrance to the garden, her hand darted to her mouth, her jaw slightly dropping. This was no treaty discussion. This was... everything she had secretly longed for but never dared to imagine. Her heart pounded, not from fear, but from a dizzying mix of shock and pure, unfiltered hope.

The gazebo, a structure made of wrought iron and woven silver birch, with climbing ivy. It was covered by yards of sheer, silver-white fabric draped from the eaves, catching the moonlight like captured mist that gleamed under the soft glow of a hundred flickering candles. Sheers of ivory gossamers, caught by a gentle breeze, floated around like ghosts. The table was set for two, with crystal that caught the candlelight and scattered it into rainbows, and porcelain so fine it was nearly translucent. Laden with an array of delectable dishes – roasted quail, wild mushroom tartlets, artisanal cheeses, and a bottle of her preferred elderflower wine. A low, melodic tune played on a lyre from hidden speakers, weaving a spell of enchantment around her.

What truly took Millie’s breath away were the flowers. He had filled the gazebo with them—overflowing vases and cascading clusters of deep purple lilacs, along with the pure elegance of white roses. Her favorite scents.

Aries stood by the table, illuminated by candlelight, his dark hair streaked with silver falling boyishly across his forehead. He wore a tailored charcoal suit that highlighted the broadness of his shoulders, and when his eyes met hers, there was a rare nervousness she’d never seen in the formidable Alpha. The sight of her took his breath away. She wore a simple deep blue dress that seemed to drink in the moonlight, causing her skin to glow. Her dark hair was loose, falling in waves over her shoulders, and her wide eyes reflected countless points of candlelight, turning them into galaxies.

Aries met her halfway, his Alpha reserve cracking slightly from a hint of nervous excitement. He moved toward her, each step deliberate, though his wolf urged him to close the gap and claim her. “Millie,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble. He was the only one permitted to call her Millie his special nickname for her, one he’d given her when they were children playing hide-and-seek in the ancient woods. It was a name only he used, a private endearment that bypassed her formal title. A name that made her feel seen beyond the coven robes and political duties.

For everyone else, she was Milicent or High Priestess.

“Aries?” her voice was a breathless melody. "What… what is all this? What… what is going on? Did I misread the meeting notes?”

He took her hand, his touch warm and firm, leading her toward the illuminated refuge. His thumb brushed her knuckles—a gesture that sent a familiar, deeply buried tremor through her.

He offered a tentative smile, a flash of white against the candlelight. “No misreading, Millie,” he murmured, his voice softening into the tone he reserved only for her.

“I thought we were discussing the vampire treaty,” she said, her gaze sweeping over the romantic tableau, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

“We are," he said, offering his arm. “I just thought the discussion would be better accompanied by a good meal.”

Taking his arm, her fingers delicate as a sparrow’s wing on the soft wool of his jacket. A warm, electric current passed between them at the touch. He led her to the table, and Millie, still trying to process the overwhelming beauty of the scene, allowed him to guide her to her seat. He pulled out the chair for her with a gentlemanly flourish, his gaze lingering on her face.

Millie sat down, her usually sharp mind struggling to keep up.  Aries Bogdanov, the man who mostly communicated in brief council summaries and guarded glances? She felt a dizzying, reckless hope rise, only to be quickly suppressed by years of cautious reality. Werewolves and witches did not, could not, mix. Their peace was fragile, built on mutual respect.

Yet, they found themselves amid the unmistakable, intoxicating feeling of romance.

They started with the food, the conversation beginning safely as they circled the familiar circles of their lives. They sat, surrounded by the soft glow and intoxicating scents. The food was delicious, but Millie found it hard to concentrate. They talked for hours, recalling shared memories of their childhood, the two stubborn kids who met on the blurred border years ago. The secret reading spots, the silly pranks they pulled, their misadventures at ten years old, when she tried to help him control his first shift with a calming potion and accidentally turned his fur a bright shade of violet. They laughed about when he trampled her moon garden during a territorial patrol, and she hexed his boots so they squeaked loudly every step for a week. The stories connected them back through time to a place where their titles mattered less than their friendship.

They spoke of the frustrating necessity of hiding their friendship from their respective elders, the quiet moments of companionship they had forged over years of treaty discussions and shared leadership burdens. Tracing the paths of their lives, they talked about the relentless pressure of their duties—Millie explaining the complexities of harnessing the shifting tides of the moon’s energy, Aries recounting the endless strain of maintaining pack discipline and protecting their boundaries. Unburdened by the usual political weight, they spoke not as leaders but as friends.

They laughed often, a sound that felt both fresh and forever familiar in the close setting. The ease and closeness of the conversation were surprising. But with every shared smile, every glance held a second too long, the unspoken thing between them grew, a third presence at the table. They had spent countless hours together, but always talking about logistics, threats, and resources. Never anything personal.

But something bothered Millie. This wasn’t typical of Aries. He was straightforward, practical, and rarely engaged in grand, romantic gestures unless it had a clear strategic purpose. And this… this was utterly, breathtakingly romantic.

As Aries refilled her glass with sparkling elderflower wine, Millie had to ask the question that had been burning since she stepped into the garden. She looked at him, her expression serious in the candlelight. “Aries, please,” she said, setting her glass down, her gaze searching his guarded silver eyes. “This is breathtaking. But why? We set aside three hours for the treaty assessment. Why the elaborate dinner? What’s really going on? The vampire talks?”

Aries’s polished veneer suddenly cracked. He leaned forward, the casual distance between them vanishing. The Alpha returned, but this time, he was driven by intense, possessive worry. His shoulders visibly stiffened. He set down his glass, his wolf-gold eyes darkening slightly. “Yes,” he said, his voice dropping to a gravelly register. “The vampire talks. The treaties are important. But Millie, I’m worried.”

Millie blinked, confused. “Are you concerned about the leverage points?”

“No, those we can handle,” Aries countered, his hand reaching across the table to cover hers again, this time gripping tightly. “I am concerned about Bach himself.”

Millie frowned, confused. “Worried? About what? Our intelligence suggests Bach seems… amenable. He sent very polite overtures.” Her brow furrowing slightly. “He seems… reasonable. Charming, even. I think the negotiations will go well.”

A low growl rumbled in Aries’s chest before he could stop it. “Charming,” he repeated, the word a curse. He leaned forward, his amber eyes intense. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Afraid? Of his charm?” she asked, a small, confused smile lingering on her lips.

Aries suddenly stood and moved swiftly around the table. He reached for her, taking her hands in his with a firm, almost possessive grip. “Bach is a formidable vampire, Millie, but he's also known for his charm. He is old, powerful, and utterly captivating. When he sees you, surrounded by your energy—the High Priestess. He will notice your poise, your wit, your quiet, inherent magic.” Aries said, his voice lowering, tinged with a possessiveness that surprised him. “I’m afraid he’ll try to seduce you. I saw the way he looked at you at the last gathering. Like you were a masterpiece he wanted to possess. Aries’s grip tightened further, momentarily painful. “I am worried, Millie, that he will try to seduce you to gain coven secrets. That he will see you as a prize and try to take you.” He shifted slightly, leaning closer, as his strong scent of pine and cold air enveloped her.

Millie let out a sudden, nervous laugh. It sounded thin and a little hollow under the vast night sky. It was a beautiful sound, but it grated on him because it came from disbelief. She stared at him for a moment, then a soft, unbelieving laugh bubbled up from her chest. “Seduce me?” she repeated, pulling her hands from his to gesture around the elegant gazebo. “Aries, you’re being silly. Bach is a centuries-old vampire lord. He wouldn’t be interested in me. I’m hardly the type to catch a powerful vampire’s eye.  I’m a witch who spends more time with grimoires than with people. I am the steady, reliable leader—the ‘safe hands’ of the Coven. I am not exciting or intoxicating.” She tried to brush off his concern, a familiar wave of self-deprecation washing over her. She’s a witch, yes, powerful in her own way, but not the flashy, dazzling beauty that captivates leaders of ancient clans.

“Stop. Stop putting yourself down like that, Millie. Don’t you dare,” he commanded, his Alpha tone slipping through. He flared instantly, the low growl rising in his chest vibrating through the wood of the table. His golden eyes blazed with an intensity that took her breath away.  He reached across the table, his big hand covering her smaller one. Her laughter died instantly, her eyes widening at his touch, at the raw emotion on his face.

She flinched, surprised by the intensity of his emotion. She stepped back, her usual defenses rising. “It’s not putting myself down, Aries. It’s being realistic. It’s just… it’s the truth. I am not the type of girl men crave.” The words, born from years of insecurity and the crushing weight of their forbidden connection, tasted bitter on her tongue. Her lower lip trembled slightly. “I’m not the type of girl men want. Not like that. Not for…”

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the crackling of the candles. Aries abruptly stood up. He placed his palms flat on the wood, locking her gaze with the fierce intensity of his own.

“For what?” he pressed, as he reached for her hand, his thumb gently stroking the back of it, feeling the delicate bones beneath her skin. “For this?” He gestured around them with his free hand. “For candlelight and poetry and fantasies that keep a man awake at night?” His voice was rough, edged with genuine fury. “Do you hear yourself? You are the most beautiful, luminous woman I have ever known. Do you think I don’t see you? Do you think the pack doesn’t see how the light follows you, how the magic sings in your hands? You are wrong, Millie. Terribly wrong,” he stated, his breath ragged. His mask, the one he had worn for years, finally shattered, revealing the raw, untamed emotion beneath.

Then, he said it. The words that shattered her carefully built walls, that made her heart leap and tumble in her chest. “You are the only kind of girl I want, Millie. You are the only woman I have ever wanted. He said, the words torn from him. “I have, since we were sixteen. I want you, I crave you,” he confessed. I am in love with you.”

Her breath hitched. Her eyes, wide and luminous in the candlelight, searched his. He wasn’t joking. The raw emotion in his gaze was too profound, too real.

The world came to a halt. The crickets went quiet. The candles appeared to freeze in mid-flicker.

“What?” she whispered, the word barely audible.

“I am in love with you. The night of the Grand Clan Ball. “His voice was a husky murmur, his thumb brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek. “Do you remember? All the other young pack members and coven initiates were dancing with their own kind, but you… you were sitting alone, watching the stars. I saw you. And when I asked you to dance, "I took your hand .” he continued, his gaze holding hers prisoner, pouring a decade of hidden longing into his words. 'A dance, Millie?” he’d asked, his voice cracking only once. At that moment he realized Millie was no longer a gangly girl but a young woman with eyes the color of twilight and a dress the color of midnight, dotted with silver stars like a celestial map. He, a newly presented Alpha heir, all swagger and awkward limbs, had crossed a crowded ballroom of shifters and supers, his gaze locked only on her. He’d taken her hand, his own feeling brutish and large around her slender fingers.

"When you took my hand, it felt like… like coming home. “And I knew. My wolf knew. You are my other half, Millie. My Luna. My mate.”

Millie’s throat closed up, her vision blurred with unshed tears as memories flooded her senses—The Grand Clan Ball. She remembered every agonizing, exquisite detail: the music, the heat of the ballroom, the thrill of his hand in hers, and the unexpected comfort of his strong arm around her waist as they swayed to the music, utterly oblivious to the stares of their elders and peers. She recalled the scandalous closeness of their bodies as they moved in defiance of every rule. The spark that had ignited within her that night, a secret flame she’d nurtured in the shadows for over a decade.

“I watched you laugh that night, Millie,” Aries continued, his eyes glistening with unshed emotion. “I watched your dress spin, and I realized then that my life was over. You were my destiny. I didn’t care what the elders said. I didn’t care that our romance was supposed to be forbidden. I fell for the witch, and I have been trying—and failing—to hide it ever since.” That’s when it started for me. I don’t care that our romance is supposed to be forbidden. I don’t care about ancient taboos. I only care about you.I think about you constantly. During my last rut…” He swallowed hard, his own cheeks heating. “The fantasies were not of some she-wolf. They were wild, desperate visions of you. Only you."

Millie’s carefully built restraint broke. The tears she had kept inside for twenty years poured out, leaving silver trails in the candlelight. She raised her hands, reaching for him, as fear and joy fought for control in her heart.

“Oh, Aries,” she breathed, her voice thick with emotion. “You great, oblivious wolf.”

Now it was his turn to be confused. “Millie?”

A sob escaped her. “Aries,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “I… I fell in love with you that same night, when you asked me to dance in front of everyone. You were so brave. I’ve loved you every day since then. I just… I thought I was alone in this. I believed my feelings were a secret I’d carry to my grave. But when you took my hand, I felt the spark of your wolf, the unwavering loyalty in your soul. I thought it was just a silly crush, intensified by the forbidden nature of it all. However, it wasn’t. I fell in love with you that night, too.” Tears welled in her eyes, but they did not fall. Instead, a look of deep relief, of a burden finally lifted, washed over her face. The careful walls she had built around her heart for ten long years crumbled into dust.

The admission shattered the last of his control. He let out a shaky breath, relief flooding his strained features. With a sound somewhere between a groan and a desperate prayer, Aries wrapped his arms even tighter, lifting her easily until her feet left the ground. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the scent of her magic and the lilacs, grounding his wild nature in her reality.

“I invited you tonight,” he murmured into her hair, his voice thick with emotion, holding her so tightly she could feel the powerful rhythm of his heart against her chest. “Because I couldn’t keep it in anymore, I needed to tell you everything, I can’t endure the thought of anyone looking at you, touching you. I am tired of waiting. I want you to be mine.”

He set her down gently, cupping her face with his large, warm hands, his thumb stroking her damp cheek. He was completely vulnerable now, the Alpha gone, leaving only the man who loved her.

“Millie,” he said, a genuine, relieved smile spreading across his face, transforming his severe features. “After all these years, this is our first official date.”

A sound escaped her—a giggle. It was pure, unfiltered joy. She tilted her head back to look at him, her eyes shimmering with tears and laughter. She reached up, tangling her fingers in the dark silk of his hair, pulling him slightly closer. “Oh, Aries,” she giggled. “My brilliant, Alpha. Do you know what the date is?” she whispered, her voice husky with love and laughter.

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with triumph—a genuine, unguarded smile that transformed his usually stern features. He brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. “Of course, I do. I planned it meticulously. It’s the seventeenth of May,” he said softly, his gaze dropping to her lips. “It is the same date as the night of the Grand Clan Ball. The night I realized I couldn’t live without you.”

“So, my sweet,  Alpha,” she whispered, reaching up to cup his jaw, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her palm. Her magic humming in the tiny space between their mouths, a happy, eager vibration.

“It’s not our first date. It’s our anniversary—the day we fell in love.”.

The realization hit Aries like a full moon transformation. The truth of it, the beautiful, perfect symmetry of it, washed over him. He threw back his head and let out a rich, unrestrained laugh that echoed through the garden, a sound so joyous and free it chased away every lingering shadow of political worry and forbidden rules.a sound his pack hadn’t heard in years. a full, joyful sound that echoed through the garden, He pulled her closer, his laughter rumbling through her.

“You’re right,” he said, gazing down at her with a love so fierce it felt like a physical force. “Our first date was a dance. And we’ve been dancing around each other ever since.” Their laughter mixing, two souls finally aligning after a decade of careful separation.

“I love you, Aries.” she said, her heart swelling until she thought it might burst. The words clear and sure, a spell more powerful than any she’d ever cast. Her voice filled with a lifetime of unspoken affection, now freely given.

“I love you, Milicent,” he vowed, his gaze unwavering, full of devotion and a fierce, possessive tenderness. “My witch. My Luna. My Millie.” The words tasting like freedom.

He dipped his head, and his lips, warm and firm, met hers. It was not a gentle first kiss. The kiss was everything she had dreamed of, ten years of suppressed longing igniting into a brilliant, gentle inferno. , It was a claiming, a confession, a culmination. Her arms wound around his neck, her fingers tangling in the hair at his nape as she kissed him back with equal fervor, all her hidden passion poured into one kiss. A promise of a future finally within reach. A kiss that sealed their love, not just for a night, but for an eternity, defying every forbidden rule their worlds had ever thrown their way. And in that moment, under the careful, ancient gaze of the silver moon, and the scent of lilacs and white roses, gilding the two embracing figures in silver. The Alpha and the Priestess. The wolf and the witch. The two halves of a single soul, the man who thought it was a beginning and the woman who knew it was a celebration, finally kissed. It was a kiss that sealed a destiny.