Lucian pressed it to his ear, his face carved into a cold mask. “This is Lucian Reed,” he said smoothly, authority wrapping around each syllable. “If you’re in actual trouble, I’ll send someone immediately to assist you. If not, I expect there won’t be any further interruptions tonight.”
I stiffened, my mouth opening in alarm. “Lucian-“
But on the other end, a string of curses crackled, then the line went dead.
Lucian lowered the phone, jaw tight, and set it deliberately on the table.
The room buzzed with the silence that followed. My pulse thundered.
“Lucian,” I whispered, unsure whether I was pleading or scolding. “Why did you-“
His eyes softened when they found mine. “Because I’m done with interruptions of our time together-least of all from Kieran,” he said, voice quieter now, tinged with something raw.
“Because I needed to remind him that you’re not his to call anymore. He threw away that chance. You’re mine now.”
Mine.
The word caught in the air between us like a spark. My chest ached, caught between guilt and the undeniable warmth blooming in my ribs.
I bit my lip. “Lucian, I’m sorry. Things shouldn’t be like this. You shouldn’t have to tell my ex-husband off. Maybe I’m not…” My throat worked. “Maybe I’m not a good enough girlfriend if you have to-
Lucian surged forward and cupped my cheek, forcing me to meet the fire in his gaze.
A/D
“Don’t you dare,” he murmured fiercely. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for another man’s inability to let go. Kieran didn’t cherish you when he had you. That’s his mistake. One I’ll never make.”
My breath hitched. His thumb traced my cheekbone, tender where his words were
There was that disarming conviction again, tugging tightly bound emotions loose in my chest.
I leaned into him, voice trembling. “You mean that?”
He smiled then, the edge softening, eyes warm. “I’ve never meant anything more.”
Something hot pricked my eyes, and before I could stop myself, I threw my arms around him. His embrace folded around me instantly, strong and certain, like it belonged there.
For a long moment, I just breathed him in, letting his steadiness drown out the doubts gnawing at me.
When I finally pulled back, a teasing smile tugged at my lips, shaky but real. “So…do you still want to finish what we started?”
Lucian chuckled low, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “The Moon Goddess must be testing me,” he said, mock-dramatic. “So many interruptions. Maybe she’s warning us not to rush.”
I frowned, but his grin was gentle as he went on. “I promise we will, Sera-just not yet. I want to wait. Until you’ve visited my pack. Until you’ve seen what it means to stand beside me. Until you’re ready to be my Luna. Until everything is perfect.”
The weight of his words settled deep in my chest. My lips parted, both moved and… hungry.
I narrowed my eyes playfully. “You better not regret that, Lucian Reed. Because I have no intention of hiding the charms you so confidently claim I have.”
His answering smile was dazzling. “I wouldn’t dream of asking you to. He placed a warm, soft kiss on my temple. “Trust me, I know a thing or two about restraint.”
That night, we didn’t make love.
Instead, we slipped beneath the covers, tangled together in the quiet warmth of shared breath.
His arms anchored me, his heartbeat steady beneath my cheek.
And for the first time in ten years, I went to bed with a man’s arms around me. And I fell asleep easily, safe in the knowledge that morning wouldn’t bring devastation.
***
The morning light seeped soft and golden through the curtains when the sharp buzz of the doorbell startled me awake.
Lucian stirred beside me, groaning into my hair. “Ignore it,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep.
But the chime rang again-longer, more insistent.
I sighed, untangling myself from his embrace, padding downstairs with my hair disheveled and heart still heavy with warmth.
But that warmth was instantly swallowed by frost when I opened the door.
If you guessed Kieran, you would be…wrong.
If you guessed Celeste, you would be…also wrong.
But if you guessed my mother?
Ding ding ding!
MARGARET’S POVE
My once bright and full house had grown unbearably hollow-no husband to share the silence with, Ethan too wrapped up in his shiny new mate, and Celeste gone off to live with
Kieran.
It was just me now, rattling around in rooms that used to be full of voices, left to make conversation with my own grief.
So when Dr. Fairchild suggested I take daily short walks, get some “fresh air for the soul,” I agreed.
I thought I would go to the park, perhaps, or stroll down the avenue where the caf?s spilled into the street with clinking glasses and low laughter.
Remind myself that although my world had stopped, the one around me moved on.
Instead, I heard myself read off an address I’d inadvertently committed to memory. And I found myself staring up at a house I knew but had never sought out.
Seraphina’s home.
I wasn’t sure what possessed me to get out of the car.
My oldest daughter had made it clear-over and over again-that she had no use for me in her life.
But there I was, smoothing my blouse with trembling fingers, standing at the base of her front steps, staring at the modest little house that she’d made hers.
It was my first time seeing it. I had always assumed she lived in something temporary-a quick escape after the suddenness of her divorce.
But the ivy curling up the porch rail, the potted herbs on the windowsill, the faint scent of rosemary and earth-it was hers.
I almost turned back.
But then I thought of Dr. Fairchild’s words: ‘Make peace with your life as it is now.’ ‘Clear your mind.’
The heaviest burden on my mind was this: the yawning rift between me and Seraphina.
Edward’s words, spoken just weeks before he was so cruelly snatched from me, replaced
Dr. Fairchild’s in my mind.
“This family has been divided for too long. I believe it’s time we bring Seraphina home.’
My knuckles rapped lightly against the door before I could talk myself out of it.
There was a long pause. Long enough that I began to think she wasn’t home, and I should leave before humiliation claimed me. But then the door cracked open, and I drew in a breath.
Seraphina stood there, eyes wide, lips parted in shock.
Hair unpinned, mussed from sleep. Wearing a loose sweater and shorts. She looked…soft.
Unguarded.
Not the armored daughter who usually faced me. I almost mistook her for the little girl she had once been. The one who clung to my skirts and looked at me like I was her world.
But then I noticed something else: the sweater slid off one shoulder, baring a collarbone- and a faint purple bruise.
Her cheeks were flushed-partly with shock, but partly with-
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