Page 23

Winter. He smells so much like winter. And spice. And something so delectable, sweet. I have his face in my hands before I can piece together the thought of why it...this feels so familiar.

And his eyes undo me. The green in them is nearly gone, replaced by a black blown so wide, you would think he's fucking high.

His lips are swollen and parted and his cheeks are reddened.

His scar adds to his devastating beauty and I don't know what I'm doing when I bring my lips to the scar and kiss it.

Soren makes a sound deep in his throat. I kiss his dusky, long lashes. I kiss his high cheekbones, his blushing cheeks, the shell of his pretty ear, and I catch his earlobe between my teeth, biting him.

His hand slams into the wall beside my head and clenches, his hips rolling against mine.

I moan, burying my nose in his neck in a long, sharp inhale. "You smell so good, Soren," I murmur, heavily drunk on his scent. His pulse pounds as heavily and quickly as mine...almost in synch, and my teeth ache too...

I gasp when he fists my hair, ruining the curls I'd so carefully styled into my hair this evening, and yanks my face back from his neck.

Inside his green eyes are burning rings of gold and an elongated canine teases his lips as he growls in a voice that's distorted, "You do that and there's no going back. You don't want that. Not yet."

I don't understand what he means but I don't care for it anyway because he presses my side into the door, dropping my left leg so that he can...

He sets me down, panting. "You aren't..." His arms clench on either side of me, forehead pressing against the wall above me. "You aren't healed yet."

The doctor had said it'd take a little while yet before I'd be cleared for penetration of any kind. I didn't think he had been paying attention and admittedly, I had hoped for a little more a few seconds ago, irrespective of the pain.

One touch and I've gone bonkers.

I nod, chest heaving, and for a moment, there is only silence, the music coming from the lower floors, the sound of crickets coming from the woods and Soren's heavy breathing. The silence isn't uncomfortable, but an unwelcome thought pops into my head out of nowhere.

What if he saw the little pouch that has yet to snap back and felt irritated by it? Is that why he stopped? Is he using the excuse of healing to pull away from?—

Soren snarls at me as if he can hear my thoughts and I jolt, back hitting the door and jostling the frame.

He snatches my wrist and brings my hand down, down to the huge bulge in his pants, making me feel him. "Does this feel like an irritation, Sera?"

I snatch my hand back, mortified. "You can hear my thoughts?"

His gaze shifts to the wall, like he can see something I cannot. "No, but you wear every feeling on your face."

I start to tell him that the word 'irritation' is a little too specific, but his palm shifts from where it clutches the wall to grip the side of my face, the hinge of my jaw.

"You are beautiful. Childbirth suits you, and this?

" His hand presses against my stomach and the little loose skin I couldn't help but stare at this morning.

Lilia says it'll be gone in a few weeks, but I can't help but feel a little self-conscious. And fat.

But Soren strokes it like he loves it. "If you do ever let me in, let me into your bed, it'll be the first place I come on."

His words send a violent shudder through me, heat pooling between my legs so fast it's dizzying.

Soren chuckles darkly, like he can smell exactly what that just did to me. He leans in, a day's old stubble rubbing against my cheek as he whispers, "When I take you the first time—because I will—it will be when you're completely healed, so you remember what my bruises feel like."

My teeth sink into my bottom lip and feeling dangerously reckless, I lean forward, letting my fingers brush against his still very hard erection. "You promise?"

He barks a startled laugh and turns the last second to kiss my cheek. "I promise." He pulls back and shrugs off his jacket, draping it over my shoulders. "Wait for me outside. Someone's here."

I hear it then, the quiet footsteps outside, almost inaudible. I don't ask before turning around and pulling the doorknob.

And I come face to face with Ronan Callahan.

The world sways.

Not in the way it does when I stand too fast or when exhaustion makes my vision swim, but in a way that feels deeper, like my body is reacting to something my mind can't grasp.

He is striking, in a way that unsettles more than it soothes. But that is not what holds my attention. It's his golden brown eyes and the way they look at me that unravels something deep in my bones. Like he's seen me bare, inside and out, and owns the knowledge of it.

A sharp, twisting pain blooms in my chest. A horrifying twin of it traveling up my spine. My ribs feel like they're caving in.

I don't know him. I shouldn't know him. But my body betrays me—my breath catches, my pulse spikes, and a strange, twisting ache knots itself in my stomach.

The way his gaze moves over me—slow, possessive, a little too hungry—sends something sharp down my spine. There's familiarity in his eyes, something that crawls under my skin, something I can't name.

And like a wound that has never healed, the awful, wrenching pain in my head strikes in full force sending me forward, shoulder knocking into his as I flee from him.

It doesn't make sense but my body knows. It remembers .

I claw at the necklace on my throat and tear it off. But I still can't breathe. The fancy lights and decorations blind me as I try to find my way to my bedroom. To my meds. But I can't get my bearings right and everyone's in twos and fours.

"Are you alright, Seraphina?" someone asks beside me. It's Eric. But...where is he?

I blink rapidly, trying to dispel the multiple images around the corners of my eyes and in a bid to hold onto something, I slam into someone.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, feeling something wet drip down my dress. "I—I'm sorry?—"

The woman screams. It's a loud, blood-curdling sound, you would think she saw a ghost. I force myself to focus, force myself to take in more than her blonde hair intricately woven around a silver crown in the shape of leaves and branches.

I see fear in her brown eyes. I see her skin has gone deathly pale.

I've never seen her before either, but something must be terribly wrong with me, because I begin to hyperventilate. Especially when she whispers so low, I'm unsure how I even heard her. "T-this isn't real. You're dead."

A dizzy spell hits me then, so severe, I clutch forward blindly, hand landing on her arm. She screams again and pushes me off her.

And again, I'm falling.

The golden lights flicker around me, switching out with the darkness of the woods where the accident had happened.

I see him, Matt, hovering above me, and his words echo in the walls of my mind again. " Shit. What do we tell the Luna?"

And the last thing my mind recalls before it blacks out is the last name that had come to mind before I felt death embrace me that night.

Luna Kaida.