Lucien
I closed the heavy oak door of my quarters, leaning my back against the wood as a sickening weight settled in my stomach.
Regret pooled inside me like cold lead, heavy and suffocating.
Why am I feeling like this?
It defied all logic.
My brothers and I had chosen Selene long ago.
We agreed she was the woman who fit our future, the one who deserved the Luna crown.
Yet the ancient, stubborn bond in my chest screamed an entirely different truth.
Every time Lyra looked up at us with those ruined, bloodshot eyes, something fractured behind my ribs.
Every time her voice trembled in terror, my own soul recoiled.
I hated it.
I hated the Moon Goddess for tying my thread to a girl I was supposed to despise.
Dragging a hand down my face, I tried to force cold air into my burning lungs.
What tore at me most was the quiet admission I couldn’t speak aloud: I knew she was telling the truth back in Ronan’s room.
I had labeled her a disgrace intentionally—not because I believed she seduced him, but because an Alpha cannot afford weakness.
Not before Kael.
Not before Ronan.
And certainly not before Lyra.
Showing a single drop of mercy toward her would have invited suspicion, and Ronan was already an open flame waiting for a spark.
So I had swallowed the truth, masked my eyes with ice, and thrown her to the pack just to protect my own pride.
I slammed my fist against the doorframe, a raw curse tearing from my throat as pain radiated up my knuckles.
Because the most repulsive, treacherous thought of all wasn’t just my guilt.
It was the burning jealousy that had flared the second I saw her swollen, bleeding lips.
I wished I had been the one to pin her against the wall.
I wanted to feel her breath hitch against my collarbone, to feel her small hands fruitlessly pushing against my chest, to taste the metallic tang of her blood mixed with the heat of her mouth.
How could I harbour such sexual urge, disloyal desires?
I was supposed to belong to Selene—body, mind, and soul.
Yet as I stood there in the quiet room, imagining Lyra trapped beneath me, my body reacted with terrifying speed.
Heat surged straight to my core, my breath catching in my throat, my lower body answering with an urgent, throbbing pulse that made shame burn hot across my skin.
I was losing my mind.
The soft latch clicked open, and Selene stepped into the room.
Her scent reached me first—sweet lavender mixed with wild honey.
Usually, it brought a sense of calm, an anchor to pull me back from the edge.
Now, it only amplified the rot in my chest.
“Best timing,” I muttered under my breath, wiping the conflict from my eyes in a fraction of a second.
I couldn’t let her see the storm behind my eyes.
I did the only thing I knew would drown out the phantom image of Lyra’s bleeding lips.
Before Selene could speak, I strode across the floor, cupped her face, and pulled her into a hard, desperate kiss.
I kissed her with a wild, hungry urgency—as if I could force Selene’s taste to erase the ghost of her sister.
As if pouring myself into my chosen mate would bleed away the forbidden fire consuming my veins.
But the terrifying truth struck me like an iron blade.
Behind my closed eyelids, I wasn’t seeing Selene.
It wasn’t her delicate features or her soft touch I was feeling.
It was Lyra.
My mind betrayed me entirely, mapping Lyra’s face over the woman in my arms.
The realization almost broke me.
I pulled back, my eyes dark and unreadable as I looked down at my trousers.
“Take your clothes off, Selene.”
Within seconds, she stood before me, unclad and eager to please.
My focus narrowed strictly to the ache between my hips.
She knelt slowly, her fingers reaching out to undo my belt, pulling down the fabric until the crown of my length glided free, wet with a bead of clear heat.
She paused, her forefinger hovering just above the tip.
“Can I…?”
“Yes, Selene,” I gritted out, taking her wrist and guiding her fingers down around my Dick, encouraging her to stroke the sensitive skin.
“Touch it.
It’s yours.”
Her hand tightened around me, and I let out a sharp hiss.
“Faster.”
She leaned in, flicking her tongue over the tip to sample the salt on her lips.
“It’s sharp…” she whispered, looking up through her lashes, “…but I like it.”
She swirled her tongue around the head of my dick with growing confidence, making my hips jerk forward involuntarily.
“That’s it.
Don’t stop.”
Her eyes remained locked on mine as she took me deeper into her mouth, her throat working around my size.
A low groan scraped out of my chest, but the image in my mind refused to shift—it was still Lyra’s tear-stained face, Lyra’s trembling breath.
“Faster,” I demanded, my voice thick and harsh.
“Please.”
I tangled my fingers into her golden hair, taking control of the rhythm.
I needed the sensation to be violent, absolute, overwhelming enough to cleanse my head.
Opening my mouth to draw in air, I guided her head down harder, driving deeper until my shaft hit the back of her throat.
She gagged, trying to pull back to draw a breath, but the dark, possessive madness took over.
I held her firmly in place, thrusting into her mouth with fast, punishing strokes, completely blind to her discomfort.
She tried to keep up with the brutal pace, but I was too fast, too aggressive, completely consumed by the storm inside my head.
Tears spilled over her eyelids, running down her cheeks as she choked beneath my weight, but I couldn’t stop—I was chasing a release that wasn’t hers to give.
With one final, violent thrust into her throat, her stomach revolted.
She retched sharply, heaving all over my lap and stomach.
“FUCK!” I roared, shoving myself back as the cold, sickening ruin ruined everything.