Page 20
ASH
Her outburst scared the hell out of me, but it needed to happen. That conversation had been brewing, and she needed to let some of the steam out. To tell us what she was thinking. What she was worrying about.
Because she was worrying.
I could feel the weight of expectation pressing on her like a second skin.
And here I was, desperate to have her, while she was just trying to figure out what came next without drowning in it. The fear of what she thought we expected from her? It was thick in the air.
Tonight, we needed to talk—a little Q&A.
I dropped them off at the house and then headed to the gym to check in with staff and clear some of the admin backlog.
On my way home, I stopped to grab some flowers—blues and purples, like the colours she wore—and a few boxes of Chinese food. I wanted it to feel like a date, as close as possible, tonight.
I wondered if she’d asked Connor to nap with her.
The tightness in my chest? It could’ve been the unfinished bond.
It could’ve been jealousy. Probably both.
I wanted them to have their connection, and of course, I did, but it was hard not to feel like the odd one out again.
The alpha with the rules. That’s what they saw. Hell, sometimes that’s what I saw.
But Luna? She had grit. She had instinct. She wasn’t just surviving—she was choosing. And I respected the hell out of that.
The house was quiet when I pulled in. Peaceful.
I paused a moment outside, took a long breath, and went in. Set the food and flowers on the counter, then padded to her room. The door was open.
She was curled up on the bed, fast asleep, one hand resting gently on Connor’s coat, like she was holding on to his wolf.
She stirred.
Her eyes opened—and found mine. It was like a shot of adrenaline to my heart. I didn't know why I got to experience this, but I was glad as hell I did.
She smiled, still half-dreaming. Then her gaze flicked to her hand on the coat, and back to me. There it was. The double-take. She felt something. Maybe guilt. Maybe confusion. Probably both. Her heart was tugging in two directions, and she didn’t know how to carry both simultaneously.
“Sleep well?” I asked, keeping my tone easy and light.
“Yes, thanks. Was work okay?” She stretched—and that glimpse of smooth skin where her shirt lifted? That did things to me for which I didn’t have words. I could never understand how she could excite me with something so simple.
“Still standing without us,” I said. “We have a great team. I picked up dinner—I thought we could eat and talk to get to know each other a little better.”
She lit up, and I could’ve made a life out of earning that smile.
Connor stood from the bed, stretching his limbs and shaking out his fur before padding past me, brushing against my legs on purpose—a little nudge of approval.
She’d changed into her clothes—jeans that hugged her just right, and a tee that skimmed her waist, lifting every time she moved. The sliver of skin it revealed might just kill me.
When she joined me in the kitchen, I handed her the flowers.
“They’re beautiful. Thank you. That was really thoughtful.”
“Want to eat right away, or a glass of wine first?”
“Wine, please.”
“White?”
She nodded. “Would the couch be better for us to sit on, instead of the table? It feels softer there.”
“Of course.” Grateful she was letting me in, even in that small way.
Connor reappeared, dressed and relaxed. I passed him a beer. We settled on the couch—me at one end, him at the other. She sat in the middle. That wasn’t nothing.
“So, what do you read?” I asked, remembering the few books she’d tucked into her bag.
She blushed. Now I was curious.
“Romance. Mostly rom-coms,” she admitted. “But sometimes thrillers. Like the TV kind.”
She was a sucker for happy endings, even after everything.
“So,” Connor said casually, “can we ask the boyfriend story now?”
She froze, then took a few fast gulps of wine.
“As an adult, I’ve mostly moved around,” she began. A preamble. Good. “It didn’t feel safe to date without any backup. But a couple of years ago, I gave it a go with a coworker. He seemed nice.”
I braced myself.
“It was nice at first. Flowers, sweet treats. Then he started acting like he was owed… more.” Her lips tightened. I exchanged a look with Connor.
“I don’t like being told what to do. But he made me feel like it was my fault. That it was only ‘reasonable’ for him to expect more—physically.” She finished her glass. “It happened once. It wasn’t good.”
Connor stilled. I couldn’t move either. The words sat between us, awful and heavy.
“Did he force you?” Connor’s voice was quiet. Too quiet.
“Not exactly. But I wasn’t into it. He said I was a prude.” She was all but whispering now. And I knew—knew she was making excuses, rationalising.
“And you know that’s not okay, right?” Connor pushed gently.
She nodded. “Now I do. I packed a bag that night. Left the city.”
“Was that your first time?” I asked, shocked. A couple of years ago?
She nodded again. “Yeah.”
I would kill him.
“Did he… were you hurt?” Connor asked the question I couldn’t manage.
“I really need another drink,” she said softly, turning to me with eyes full of unshed tears.
I took her glass, poured another, and set the bottle within reach. Gave her the space to choose what to say next.
She hugged a cushion to her chest.
“I waited because I wanted to be in love. I wanted it to feel like the books.”
My chest ached. That dream had been stolen from her.
“What I felt this morning, when you kissed me…” She hesitated. “That’s what I should’ve felt.”
I let that sink in. Relief. Pride. Grief. She deserved better. She deserved us.
And maybe, if we’d met her years ago—no. No point wondering.
Then she hit me with a curveball.
“What happened to Claire?”
I nearly choked so much for a warm-up question.
Table of Contents
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- Page 20 (Reading here)
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