Page 200 of His Fated Luna

Rose's POV

When I walked down the steps the next day, I was surprised to find Lexia standing awkwardly as Aiden looked at her angrily with crossed arms. She held something that looked like a photo album in her hand.

“You have a visitor, Rose.” His words were clipped. “She sought special permission from Tony to come and see you. Because she knows I would have thrown her out on her ass if she’d asked me.”

I looked at Adien startled. Was that really Lexia he was talking so rudely about?

“You have nothing to worry about,” Lexia assured Aiden. “My father’s in a complete vegetative state. But it’s better if you do mark her—”

“I said I’m done talking about this with you.” Aiden’s voice was harsh and I felt like waves of alpha dominance rolling off him in a bid to get Lexia to shut up.

Lexia shrank back, clutching the photo album tighter. She looked at me.

“I heard what happened. People in my pack told me,” she said to me.

“You’re not part of the pack anymore,” Aiden grit out. “I’m banishing you like we banished your sorry excuse of a father.”

I was surprised. I’d only ever seen him look at Lexia with adoration.

“Aiden, please give me a few minutes with Rose. I just wanted to give her this.” Lexia held out the photo album.

“You better not mess this up,” he warned, turning on his heel to walk towards his study. He paused, his glacial eyes melting to cast me a tender warm look. “Call me if you need me.”

And then he left. The entire exchange was so different from what I had expected. The glares had always been directed at me. The kind and loving looks had always been for Lexia. Everything was flipped.

“What’s up?” I queried as we both sat down in the TV lounge after I had gotten a bowl of fruit for myself. It was the only thing I could stomach lately.

Lexia took a breath, steeling herself, before looking me square in the eye.

“Rose, I need to give you some tough love.” Lexia placed a photo album in my hands and opened it to show pictures upon pictures of me and Aiden. “These are the pictures I managed toget from the photographer from the regional meeting we hosted. I heard what happened with your memory. And I really am sorry to hear about it, but I don’t agree with Aiden’s methods.” Lexia frowned. “You were so wonderful and brave. You deserve to know what happened.”

My eyes were zoned in on the pictures of me and Aiden. We looked at each other devotedly, like I'd seen in so many pictures on social media but what stood out most was that all the pictures had a fresh bite-mark on my neck. Neat and precise puncture marks that looked nothing like the one on my neck currently.

“He’s been sleeping on a sofa for the past month. I’m pretty sure his back is wrecked,” Lexia spoke up softly.

“I’ve told him he can take his room,” I defended myself.

Lexia shook her head. “It’s not about rooms. He’s punishing himself, Rose. He blames himself for losing the first time, for not being able to protect you. I see it. And he’s starving for affection. He’s living here with you, his pregnant mate, and things are so different from what they used to be.”

“Has he said any of this to you?” I asked sharply.

I couldn't believe I was discussing this with Lexia of all people.

“He doesn’t need to. I can see it, Rose. He was sleeping on the couch when I arrived, and I see the tortured way he looks at you when you’re looking elsewhere. He’s like a dog begging for even a scrap of your love.” Lexia scoffed a little. She looked at me. “How do you think he feels, seeing another man’s mark on your neck day in and day out? And he’s powerless to do anything about it because you can’t remember?”

My hand went to my neck. “Whose mark is this?” I asked a little warily.

And then Lexia began her story, telling me everything she knew from the moment I arrived, demanding the antidote for Dylan to the way Aiden came back like an avenging angel and nearly killed Alistair.

“I was in touch with Tony the entire time.” Lexia clarified. “You really pulled one over on my dad. I’m sorry you had to pay for it the way you did.”

“It was all my fault,” I said flatly.

Her eyes were wet from the tears she’d shed. So this awful mark was Alistair’s. No wonder I had an impulse to recoil when touching it. My eyes flitted down, down to the picture in which a neat and tidy mark with two pin prick puncture wounds stood out clearly. It was a mark that had been placed on me with the utmost care, to cause the least amount of pain possible. I traced my fingers, almost reverently across the mark in the picture.

"Why's he punishing himself?" I queried.

Lexia gave a bitter smile. "Isn't it obvious? He feels guilty for losing and he blames himself for what happened to you. He thinks he deserves to be miserable and uncomfortable." Lexia shook her head. "I'm pretty sure you guys have come close to, if not already, having sex on that couch a few times. He's become an utter masochist."