Roman was standing at the kitchen counter when I entered, like some domestic fantasy that had already expired. Like nothing in the world had shifted since I left.
His head snapped up, eyes alert and concerned. “You okay?”
I walked past him, set my coffee on the counter a little too hard, and crossed my arms over my chest. My skin was hot. My neck, my ears, my chest, were all burning.
“I ran into Seraphina at the café,” I said.
Roman swallowed. “Oh?”
“She told me about the bonding ceremony tonight. That you and I are supposed to be the headliners.”
His whole face went still. My stomach knotted. It told me everything before he even opened his mouth. Guilt. Panic. The unspoken oh shit in his eyes.
He lifted his hands placatingly, like I might explode. “Mags, I swear. I was going to tell you. Today. Lucien only told me about it late last night. I was just… trying to figure out how.”
He took a measured step toward me as if he was afraid I might bolt.
“I’m not going to bite you,” he said quickly. “I’d never?-“
He said it like biting me, like mating with me, would be the worst possible outcome. A line he’d never cross. Something so unthinkable, so horrifying, that he had to assure me it wasn’t even on the table.
I gave a short nod. Shrugged. Aimed for breezy and landed somewhere around brittle. “Right. Of course.”
He didn’t catch it. Or maybe he did but didn’t know what to do with it. Either way, his eyes were soft and sorry, and it only made the ache worse. I wasn’t angry, exactly. I didn’t want to throw things or raise my voice. But I was unraveling.
He’d made me feel like I belonged. And now? Now I wasn’t sure if I’d just been convenient. If all this was just damage control. Or guilt. Or some warped sense of responsibility. I wasn’t special. I was useful. A means to a political end.
And the worst part, the part that made my throat ache and my chest burn, was that I’d fallen for him.
I wanted him. And he clearly didn’t want me. Not the same way.
Roman ran a hand through his hair, pacing a little now. “I think I might have a way to get out of it.”
My heart stuttered. “Out of it?”
He looked up at me, hope flickering behind his eyes like he was offering me a lifeline. “Yeah. Out of the ceremony. I think if I go to Lucien and explain?-“
“Is that what you want?” I asked, lifting my chin. “To get out of this?”
Roman didn’t hesitate.
“Of course,” he said. “This was never the plan. I’m so sorry it spiraled out of control like this.”
His words were calm and sincere. But they landed like a blade in the softest part of me. A clean cut. A clean truth.
He didn’t want this. He didn’t want me. He was just trying to clean up a mess.
My heart dropped into my stomach. My lungs squeezed tight. Of course, he wanted out. Why wouldn’t he? I was human. I wasn’t part of his world. I didn’t glow under moonlight or have some supernatural spark. I wasn’t sleek or mysterious or powerful. I was just… me.
Messy. Unmagical. The kind of girl who panicked in Whole Foods and cried when the spinach went bad.
I forced myself to nod, keeping my expression neutral. “Okay. I’m all ears. What’s your plan?”
He lit up a little and launched into something about staged conflict, a pack-friendly excuse, and maybe Lucien could be persuaded to pick a different couple to highlight.
I didn’t hear most of it. His words distorted. All I could hear was my own voice, inside my head, on loop:
You were right not to trust this.
You let him in, and this is what happens.
Pull it together, Maggie. Don’t let him see you break.
I stared at him as he spoke, as he gestured, trying to fix it all. Trying to make the chaos neat.
But the truth was already too loud.
He wasn’t choosing me.
And I’d been stupid enough to think he might.
Roman
I sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on my knees, rubbing the back of my neck. My skin felt too small for my body. Like my body didn’t know how to hold all of me inside it right now.
Across the room, Maggie paced back and forth. Arms crossed. That crease between her eyebrows digging deeper with every step.
I kept my face blank, my body still, but internally? I was spiraling. Fast.
Lucien’s words wouldn’t stop looping in my head.
You and Maggie will be the headliners.
Like we were entertainment. The perfect romance to distract the pack from the politics underneath it.
Maggie stopped pacing and looked at me. There was no softness in her face right now. Just curiosity layered over betrayal, her expression unnaturally neutral.
I cleared my throat. “Okay. So, wild idea… I think we can fake it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Fake a magical soul bond?”
I forced a shrug. “Well, fake the appearance of one. The magic surge from the other couples might mask it.”
Maggie crossed her arms tighter. “Explain.”
So I did. I told her how the bond will be measured collectively during the ceremony, how the ley lines flare when the magic hits.
“If the ley lines light up just enough, Lucien won’t ask questions. At least not right away,” I said.
I didn’t say what we were both thinking. Lucien would find out eventually. I was gambling with everything-my place in the pack, my standing, my future…
But I couldn’t-wouldn’t-claim her without her explicit desire. Without her understanding what it meant. It made my stomach turn. It made my jaw hurt just thinking about it.
I’d rather get exiled than hurt her like that.
She flopped onto the couch next to me, limbs loose but eyes tight. Thinking. Always thinking. “Okay, let’s say we fake it. How? Like, is there a script for this? A magical Pinterest board of
How to Pretend Your Souls Just Bonded?”
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