Rejected Luna Queen

Nolan’s POV

“I am meant to be worshiped, not the other way around.” Nesta said in my dream then gave a soft chuckle and disappeared.

Restless and consumed by a tumult of emotions, I found myself trapped in a state of limbo, each passing moment stretching out before me like an eternity of uncertainty. I hate uncertainties.Nôvel(D)rama.Org's content.

Night after night, sleep eluded me, leaving me to toss and turn in the suffocating embrace of my bed, haunted by the echoes of a dream I couldn’t quite remember. I only remember those words each time.

Though the details remained elusive, the mere presence of Nesta in my subconscious filled me with a seething rage that simmered just beneath the surface. Seeing her always made me wrathful.

How dare she intrude upon my thoughts, weaving herself into the fabric of my dreams like a shadowy specter haunting the darkest corners of my mind? After I rejected her?

With each sleepless night that passed, the resentment within me grew, festering like an open wound that refused to heal. I already hated her for being a healer, she had to haunt me?

I cursed her name silently, my anger fueled by the uncertainty of what had transpired in the depths of my subconscious, a mystery that tormented me with its ambiguity.

And yet, even as I railed against her intrusion, a part of me couldn’t help but wonder what it meant.

Was it a sign of unresolved feelings, lingering beneath the surface like buried treasure waiting to be unearthed? Or was it simply a cruel twist of fate, a reminder of the wounds that still festered within me, waiting to be healed?

The ones even she couldn’t heal despite being a Healer?

As the days stretched into more days, I found myself caught in a relentless cycle of longing and resentment, unable to break free from the grip of the past that held me in its thrall.

And though I knew that I should let go of my anger and move forward, the memory of Nesta’s presence in my dreams. lingered like a bitter taste on my tongue, a constant reminder of the pain that still haunted me.

The notion that someone could infiltrate your subconscious without invitation can be deeply unsettling. It’s a violation of your mental sanctuary, where you should feel safe and in control

The idea of someone like Nesta appearing in my dreams without my consent evokes feelings of anger, frustration, and even betrayal.

It’s as though she’s overstepping boundaries and encroaching upon my innermost thoughts and emotions without regard for my autonomy or well–being. She knows I dislike her.

Worst case though, I always wake up with a raging fucking hard on every time I dreamt about her for the past days. I thought it was just the usual but it has never been three days straight until now.

Caught in a moment of unexpected arousal, I found myself glaring down at the evidence of my body’s betrayal with a mixture of frustration and confusion.

My hardened length stood defiantly, a physical manifestation of desire that seemed to have a mind of its own, oblivious to the turmoil raging within me. Oblivious to the fact that I hated the person it is hard for.

I stared down at it, my gaze hardened, a silent reproach directed at this traitorous appendage that had betrayed me in the most inconvement of moments.

How dare it stir to life at a tigne when my emotion were in turmoil, when my mind was consumed by thoughts of anger and resentment? When I don’t feel like fucking anyone?

With a muttered curse, I shifted uncomfortably, attempting to will the unwelcome arousal away with sheer force of will.

But despite my best efforts, it remained stubbornly persistent, a ubborn reminder of the primal instincts that lurked just beneath the surface of my consciousness.

Frustration welled up inside me, mingling with the tangled mess of emotions that threatened to overwhelm me. It was as though my body was mocking me, taunting me with its insatiable desires even in the midst of my inner turmoil.

And yet, even as I glared down at it, a small part of me couldn’t help but feel a twinge of amusement at the absurdity of the situation.

For in that moment, as I stood locked in a silent battle with my own physiology, I couldn’t help but marvel at the complexities of the human body and the mysteries that lay hidden within its depths.

It is usually worse for werewolves when they are aroused. Everyone would know that.

With a sense of purpose driving me forward, I rose from my bed and began to dress, each movement deliberate and filled with determination.

The weight of the conversation I needed to have with the queen mother, my own mother, hung heavy in the air, a burden I carried with solemn resolve. There are a lot of things she isn’t telling me. I need answers

I slipped into my clothes. I felt a sense of anticipation building within me, mingled with a hint of apprehension.

There were so many things I needed to discuss with her, so many questions that demanded answers, and yet I couldn’t shake the feeling of uncertainty that gnawed at the edges of my resolve.

But despite the doubts that lingered in the recesses of my mind. I refused to falter. With each garment I donned, I armored myself in the courage to face whatever truth awaited me in the halls of the palace.

Rowan is busy with Nora right now and I don’t want to disturb their honeymoon phase. I know he has been looking forward to this for ages.

And so, with my heart heavy with purpose, I made my way to the queen mother’s chambers, each step a testament to the strength of my resolve. I knew that I could not shrink from the challenges that lay in wait.

With my head held high and my spirit unyielding, I And as I crossed the threshold into her presence, I knew that whatever lay ahead, I would face it, for I was a child of the queen, and I would not be silenced.

Even though I have always been the black sheep of the family. One thing though, my mother always listens to me when I talk ever since our father died. I used to be his favorite and he used to be mine.

Rowan and our mother were the ones inseparable. I don’t mind them having that because I had it too with our father when he was alive. I miss that man so goddamn much.