Page 43 of Luna's Forgotten Vow

I know what that means. And I shove the grief that comes with it into the same dark corner of my mind where the rest of my regrets fester. "How long?"

He rubs his jaw again, thoughtful. "A couple of months, give or take."

A couple of months.

That's all the time I have left before she remembers everything. Before she realizes what a lying bastard I am. Before she looks at me and sees a monster instead of the man who saved her. A couple of months. What sort of miracle would it take to make her stay? Not because of the thrall of the bond, but because she wants to?

Fuck.

I run a hand down my face and glance at her, curled up on my bed, tangled in my fur coverlet, her breath soft and steady. Colorful pillows surround her, cradling her. Even I am never that comfortable in my own bed.

I sear the image into my mind. Burn it there so I never forget.

Even after the physician leaves, I stay, leaning against the doorframe, watching her.

All my life, I've been taught restraint. To stay my hand. To want for little. My mother taught me to be a good man, to be a perfect gentleman, to love without expecting anything in return. My father taught me to be cruel, to take what I wanted without asking, because being an heir meant everything was mine by right.

It was no surprise I took after my mother. She was the more present parent. But that didn't last. Because when two opposing worlds collide, something always breaks.

She left. She just...left.

And I hated her for it. For a long time, I wished she had taken Eric and me with her. Maybe then, I wouldn't have had to witness what it meant to lose everything. Including myself.

Maybe that was where it all began—the refusal to leave. Because I didn't trust my father to take care of Eric. Because I refused to follow the path laid out for me. I wouldn't be like him. I wouldn't be abusive. I could be impressionable without becoming my father, couldn't I? Without giving in to the darkness that lurked at the edges of my mind—the same darkness that drove my mother away.

Repress.

Suppress.

Deny.

Everything I've become—it was borne of necessity. When my father died, the only way to protect Eric and Tova was to win the duel. To become Head Alpha. I was thirteen when I took that seat. But in truth, I'd been a killer long before that.

The deaths of the rogues, the spies and trespassers who had a hand in the death of my family was assumed to be an act of vengeance. I killed them because it expressed strength and bloodthirst, the kind that earned you fear and ensured your enemies stayed in line. It was all for Eric and Tova. They were the only ones who mattered.

The first decision I ever made for myself was befriending Ronan. And for a long time, I hadn't realized it wasn't me who found him during that Hunt. But he had been positioned right there, already a weapon to be used against us. One I didn't pick up on until years later. Much too late.

It only reinforced what I already knew. That my wants were dangerous. That I should never act purely on desire alone.

Saving Seraphina hadn't been borne by desire alone. It was a necessity. Now, I can't say it is anymore. Keeping her surely wasn't. It's like every urge I've ever suppressed, every emotion I've ever buried—she pulls them from me. Dragging them out, forcing me to acknowledge them.

I want to steal her, rip the rest of what she has to offer the world and keep it to myself. It is sick as fuck, but I never did like sharing.

I want to be cruel if that's what it takes to keep her. Because being a good man has never gotten me anything but used.

Would she fight me when she discovered that she had practically signed her life away that night to me? The thought scares and arouses me both, the latter only because I knew Seraphina fought wildly. The only times she ever got to be herself, the primal, feral creature she really is, was when she was unleashed.

I run a hand down my face again and then, I stare. At the wedding band around my finger.

No.

This is the first thing that has ever truly been mine. And I'll fucking keep it that way, consequences be damned.

I let my gaze roam over her. The soft curve of her lips. The delicate lines of her face. The way her thighs and hips shift against the black sheets.

What would it be like to own her? Properly. Completely.

The thought makes my blood heat.

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