Page 31 of Luna's Forgotten Vow

It wasn't that Baldwin wanted to get into Seraphina's pants. It's that he is the man her mother had an affair with.

Baldwin is Seraphina's father.

CHAPTER 11

SERAPHINA

The lilacs were all wilted. I swear they were alright when I gathered them yesterday.

I run down the cobbled path, the woven basket heavy enough to tear my arms from their sockets. I'm fucked if Nora finds me out here. It's been two years since I joined the Red Wolf Pack as additional staff, but on most days, it still feels like a probationary employment.

Maids shouldn't wander near the carpeted paths taken by the guests—especially not one who looked half as bedraggled as I do right now—but Luna Kaida suddenly decided she wanted the lilacs she'd thrashed yesterday, instead of the roses. And lilacs only grow on this side of the manor.

I scowl, plucking the last flower and my stomach roils in disgust as I throw it into the basket. I never really did like flowers, but the last few days have made me wish never to set eyes on them again.

At least, I'll get some reprieve tonight, once the Soirée begins. Maids are scarcely needed at events held solely for the sakeof unmated wolves mingling—by unmated wolves, I mean the Alpha's son, Ronan. This is his father's guise of finding him a wife—and even if they are, I wouldn't be at the top of that list.

Something sweet suddenly invades my senses, making my mouth water. My stomach grumbles in hunger, reminding me of the several skipped meals in the past week. I start for the entrance of the manor but my body seems to have a mind of its own, deciding that not only am I hungry, but I am in such a painful state of thirst that I can barely think of anything else but the need to satiate it.

I am moving, towards the source of that scent before I can stop myself, heading deeper towards the orchard. What is it? Overripe peaches? Wild honey? Is that...spice? Myrrh?

The hairs on the back of my neck rise and I feel a pressure on my back—the distinct feeling of being watched. Turning and wincing at the ache running up my arms, I barely notice the higher ground until the worn toe of my boots snags against the concrete and in an attempt to catch myself, I twist on my ankle.

I barely have enough presence to catch the basket before its contents spill across the cobblestones, and my teeth sink wickedly into my bottom lip to prevent a pained whimper from escaping.

Pain has my ankle in a vise and my eyes water as I pull down my sock to examine the flesh.

"You broke it, didn't you?"

I yelp, turning on my bad leg and this time, a sharp hiss does escape me. I glance up and freeze.

I've seen him several times from afar. Hair that shone like spurned gold, skin like polished bronze, a wickedly handsome face and a smile that spoke volumes of his confidence. I've never quite swooned over Ronan Callahan like the others because I have learned that beautiful things are deadly.

But looking at him up close, I admit that he is quite endearing to look upon. One might forget their eyes on him without effort.

Lean yet muscular, the Alpha's son is dressed in a black tuxedo, whose cuffs match the color of his hair. The waist is tapered and his shoulders broad in a way that tells me his most attractive feature yet might be his back.

His ringed fingers are held tightly around a cellphone, as though he'd been out here making a call.

I duck my head almost immediately, pondering on the scent that the wind keeps throwing my way, wondering at the way I can barely breathe in my own body.

"No, it's only a scratch," I start to say but I gasp instead when I feel the warmth of his fingers around my ankle. He's on one knee, inspecting my foot.

Alpha Callahan's only child is on one knee—he is touching my foot.

I shuffle back, startled, embarrassed and slightly annoyed at myself for not noticing the movement. I'm usually more attuned to everything that goes on around me. "Don't touch me."

Ronan Callahan draws up to his full height, towering above me like a fucking tree. I'm a little over 5'5. Nearly everyone towers above me. It should be nothing special but there is somethingawfully wrong with this. The way I have to crane my head back to look at him, and the way his eyes peer down at me, like he doesn't quite mind it.

I'd heard somewhere that he had a thing for taller women. That must not be true, if the way he is looking at me is any indication.

"What is your name?"

My hold tightens on the basket and I keep my gaze focused on the ground. "Nothing worth your time, Alpha." I walk past him. More like limp, but that is not the point.

A small amused laugh stops me mid-limp. "Tell me, what were you searching for this far from the manor?"

I look around and my eyes widen. I didn't notice how far I had walked. How the hell am I supposed to make it back carrying this and walking on an obviously twisted ankle? I grit my teeth, not bothering with a lie. "I smelled something?—"

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