Page 14

SERAPHINA

M y feet hit the ground, my ankles reverberating from the impact. My heart is in my throat and the branches won't let up, trapping me, tripping me.

I look back, heart hammering and I swallow a scream as I sight them, pulling away from the darkness of the night. Chasing me.

They'll kill me, again, like they have every night.

It's yet another nightmare I have no way of leaving. It always ends the same way, with my skull splitting and blood flowing down my legs. It always ends with my eyes trained on the skies, my vision blurred and obscured.

But this time, the pretty man with brown eyes doesn't come for me. I see beady black eyes, chapped lips and yellowing teeth. Matted dyed hair in varying shades of red like a bad dye job. I see his face, the tattoo on his temple.

And the last thing I hear before the world blinks out of existence is, "What do we tell the Luna, Matt?"

I start awake, breathing hard. I check the clock and it's 2 a.m. At least, I no longer scream loud enough to wake the entire mansion.

It takes a moment to recognize the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the see-through windows and the view of the woods beyond. Right. I'm in Soren's room.

Wiping sweat and drool off my face, I get off the bed on shaky feet, padding over to the door that separates both our rooms. I hesitate for a second.

We've been doing this for more than a week.

I sleep in his bed, he takes the couch. Or sleeps in mine.

It's that I feel less tense in his own bedroom because it feels less caged in and is open to the elements.

It's also...the odd sense of comfort that comes from being in a space so controlled by him, telling him bits of whatever I remember, while he helps me log them, his patience and deep listening.

For a moment, I felt safe. I felt less alone.

I still do. It's just...after last evening, his lips on my skin...I'm not sure what to think of this...situation. I still feel the flick of his tongue against my pulse and the way it went all the way to my middle. The toe curling feeling that had turned my legs into jelly.

Strangers? Acquaintances? Friends? There's not a word I can find to describe this.

Sighing, I twist the doorknob.

Soren is seated on the red plush couch, leaned over a laptop and a couple of files. His dark hair is slightly disheveled, falling over his forehead nearly into his scarred eye. His fingers scrub against his stubbled jaw absentmindedly and my fingers twitch at my sides.

He glances up from the screen, glacial green eyes scanning my face. As if he can tell what troubles me, he nods towards the mug. "Tea."

I swallow, shutting the door behind me. "You always seem to have a cup ready when I need it."

He leans back and I pretend not to notice his silk blue robe has come open, showing quite an expanse of tan skin, a few curls of hair dotting his broad chest, and lower is a ridiculous definition of abs that makes my mouth dry.

In the low light, his skin looks golden.

"Assume I am attuned to your every need.

" He closes the laptop as I join him on the other end of the couch, grabbing the still hot tea. "The same one?"

I shake my head and sip. Herbs dissolve on my tongue, bitter at first, then sweet enough to make me swallow a moan. "Mostly. I got a face this time."

He props his cheek on his fist as I explain what I remember the best I can before the ache hits me. The wound behind my head is completely healed now, but it still hurts. The physician says it'll hurt less with time.

"We'll have Eric find an artist to draw up a sketch by morning." Snow hits the window. Soren's eyes follow mine, searching. "It is time we told the pack of the baby."

My fingers tighten on the cup. "You said it was best it remained private."

He nods, bracing his elbows on his knees. "I did, but in a few weeks, you will begin to show. Making the announcement solidifies your standing, and we wouldn't need to pretend anymore. That way, we can focus on more pressing matters."

Pretend. I wonder if the growl that rattled against my chest as he flicked his tongue over my pulse was an act. Or the heat that unfurled in my stomach as I bared my neck for him to sink his teeth into.

My stomach tightens. With him, my body acts before my mind, against my own will. "More pressing matters?"

He nods. "For one, the reason you got attacked and nearly killed is because you weren't trained."

"There were two of them?—"

"Being an Omega and a woman already places you at a disadvantage. But there are ways to overcome it. Your wounds weren't inflicted precisely, which shows they were winging it. You know what that tells me?"

My cheeks heat. "They weren't fighters."

He affirms with another nod. "Had you possessed even the basest knowledge on a defensive stance, you would have escaped.

Barely with your life, yes, but it would have bought you more time to find help.

If you cannot beat the enemy, you must, at least, know how to properly run from them.

" He pushes a tablet in front of me. "Your schedule, starting tomorrow. "

I lean forward, glossing over the screen, surprised by the excruciatingly detailed schedule. "Tutoring?"

Soren regards me, something lighter traveling in his eyes. "You are High Luna. It would be embarrassing if you couldn't even read the pack's financial reports."

I scowl. "I can read."

A smirk hovers at the corners of his mouth. "I suppose you'll do just fine, then."

I glare at him, but he just leans back against the couch, watching me with that frustratingly unreadable expression.

"You expect me to do all this?" I gesture towards the crammed schedule.

"I had no idea I was signing up for becoming an extension of you.

You assume I'll stick around long enough for all of this to be useful.

" My eyes snag on 'learning negotiations of trade agreement' and my brain blanks out.

Soren's muscles seem to tense when I mention sticking around, but it's only a brief reaction, gone in a second and replaced with speculation.

"Think of it as a long-term gig. You do this right and you leave this marriage not only wealthy, but strong enough to defend yourself wherever you may go.

Political prowess, mental cunning, diplomacy, you name it. You'd have learned it all."

It is...much better than what I had planned and is perfectly in line with the picture I have begun to dream up for my future. One thing, however, remains missing.

"There is another man in my dream. I was happy with him.

I...I need to find him. He could be the father of my child.

" The man I dream about in those fleeting memories where I am happy and laughing hard enough to hurt my stomach.

I was happy, somewhere, with someone else.

Someone I don't remember, someone whose face I recollect only in my dreams, but never in my waking moments.

Soren's face gives nothing away. "We are looking."

"And I am to trust that you are doing that blindly? You tell me you will find him, but never tell me the progress of your search." My fingers tighten around the cup. "You aren't lying to me, are you?"

He moves with that eerie swiftness that often scares me, and in less than a second, an elegant finger crooks under my chin, lifting my head, so I find myself lost in that all-consuming gaze of his.

"It would matter if I swore on my life that all I do is for your safety.

You don't trust me now, but you will soon. "

His breath tickles my lips and his eyes seem to linger there before he pulls away. "You should get some sleep. The night is still young."

Breathing shakily, I set the mug down. "It's getting harder. To fall asleep, I mean." Hard to want to sleep when you're too busy dying whenever your eyes are closed.

A playful light takes all the darkness from Soren's face and he suddenly seems years younger, the sharp planes of his face as hauntingly beautiful as ever. "I could get you relaxed and asleep in minutes. It's an unconventional method, but it works."

My eyes narrow warily, fingers toying with the hem of my outer robe. "I'm not letting you drug me."

His eyes flick to the tea and mischief brightens them. "Who says I haven't, already?"

I choke on the tea and start coughing. He laughs, deeply. "Gods, Sera. You take me too seriously." He leans back against the couch, bracing his fingers on his thigh. "I was speaking of something else. An orgasm."

My lips part. My cheeks are on fire. "W-what?"

"You know, the feeling after?—"

"I know what it is!" I growl and he laughs again. "We aren't doing that. Y-you are not touching me."

That smile grows. "No, I won't. But you will."

My skin grows too hot for comfort and I keep my fingers curled tightly enough that my nails bite into my palms. "No."

But the idea has festered. When was the last time I thought about such things?

When was the last time I indulged myself and let loose?

The last I recall was a few weeks before mother died.

A cute Beta who had stalked me for days.

But he had barely touched me like I needed to, far more interested in getting off than pleasuring me.

It usually is so for most men. Selfish and greedy.

Funny that I don't recall the sex that has gotten me pregnant. How it must have felt to surrender myself like that. Did he kiss me first? Did he lavish my neck with strokes of his teeth and tongue like Soren does? Did he know the most sensitive parts of me, how to manipulate them and make me feral?

"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" Soren's voice comes from everywhere, at the same time. He's pulling an aura on me, a different type from the usually violent one I'm used to.

His voice is deeper, thicker and yet, softer. I can feel it against my skin, in my head, between my legs, making my insides ache painfully.