Page 48 of Luna's Forgotten Vow

Ronan's stare is intimate, scorching, and where there used to be an intense feeling of warmth, love and need, there are only slight tingles. Like my body still recognizes him, even if I have moved on.

His lips part, as kissable as they once were, and I feel strange, my skin too tight for me.

Conflicted.

I loved him before that accident, as much as I hated him. It's been nine months since then and my mind feels warped, unable to decipher what my emotions are where he is involved.

His scent of myrrh still holds that familiar power over me, the kind that used to make me press my nose against his neck and flick my tongue over his skin.

I wonder if he still tastes like crackling flames. I wonder if he still finds it hard to sleep with other people around. I wonder if he kept the charm I got him that dangled around one of the poles of his bedframe.

Ronan's brown eyes soften, his gait changing. And I recognize the man I fell in love with. The man I would have given everything for. When he moves, I find myself rooted to the spot, unable to decide if I want him to hold me or if I want him far away from me.

But Soren steps into the space between us, cutting off my view of Ronan, and with the momentary interruption, my wits return to me.

Soren holds up a violet scarf that matches the color of my eyes and my skin flushes when he wraps it around my neck carefully. "Because the cold gets you often," he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of my head.

Every thought of Ronan flees from my mind, consumed by Soren. My anger for him. My attraction to him.

"Thank you," I whisper, fighting my feelings. Soren, completely oblivious to the battle happening inside me whispers again, aware that everyone can hear us, "You just might kill me if you keep wearing these around." He emphasizes his words by running his knuckles down my hips, so close to my ass. Closer than he's ever dared to touch me before.

And despite knowing he's a piece of shit, my toes curl and my ovaries do a little waltz and backflip.

His hands ghost my ass, not quite touching, but not...not touching either and I hate the breathy, needy whimper that escapes me.

Soren steps away then, and I am surprisingly reminded of our audience. Everyone pretends to be looking at something more interesting, but Ronan, he's glaring, his eyes like liquid flame.

My heart falls. A part of me still cares, possibly even longs for what we had. Though, a larger part of me wants Soren, enough for Ronan to become an afterthought.

I break off our staring contest when I notice Tova watching us.

I haven't yet had the opportunity of meeting her in person—other than running into her at the party back in the South, and though I'm not so petty to define a person by the first impression they made on me, I can't bring myself to breach the distance between us and talk first. Not that I think she'd want to anymore.

Not with her husband openly devouring me.

Gods, this can't end well. And I bet the only reason why Soren did that was to lay his claim on me pretty thick.

Again, this cannot possibly end well.

Lilia, meanwhile, stares at me with her jaw unhinged. And then she squeals like a maniac. "That was fucking hot, Fina! Gods, I could listen to him talk all day long."

"Shut up!" I whisper-shout, rubbing my cheeks that I can bet are a bright shade of crimson. Thankfully, Eric cranes his neck, glaring at Lilia who winks at him and giggles.

Wish I could be that free. The tension in the air is thick enough to cut through ice. Someone's sniffling. I think it might be Tova. Gods, why do I feel like I've done something wrong?

The walk to the entrance of the woods is mostly filled with chatter, and though I know I should be walking ahead with Soren, I stick to Lilia's side instead. She is more fun anyway, or so I convince myself, when in truth, I'm running from my lying husband and his silver tongue.

"The bear was last seen moving along the eastern ridge at dawn," Soren explains when we reach the woods. He rotates the rifle around his finger and something about Soren holding a gun makes me warm inside. It's hot. "It's a big one, already wounded, no thanks to Eric's over-enthusiasm."

That earns laughter across our small group, but he continues. "Which means it is meaner, angrier and ready to take a chunk out of your sweet, soft flesh." His gaze sweeps over us, lingering for a little bit on me, like the last part had been directed at me.

Sweet, soft flesh.

Lilia pinches my ass again and I swear I've gone red. It's a bit much, even for Soren, and everyone's noticed. I mean, everyone.

He breaks eye contact. "If it charges, don't play with your food—take it down fast. And for the love of the gods, don't shift unless you're ready to fight. A wounded bear is still a bear, and it won't care that you have pretty canines."

Another round of laughter and he makes a beeline for me. He presses the rifle into my hand. "You will watch, but I need to know you'll be safe. The woods can be a tad unpredictable and lost in the thrill of the hunt, things could get a little..."

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