Ella
I scrub the food from my body as steaming water pours down around me in a blissful cascade. A hot shower is exactly what I needed, but I feel like a silly school girl starcrossed in puppy love. I can’t stop replaying the events in the kitchen in my mind, reliving every word, every touch – every look from Sinclair’s penetrating green eyes.
I find myself running my hands over my bare skin in the same places he stroked and caressed me, imagining what he’ll do when he comes home. I know he was going to kiss me before Hugo interrupted us, and the memory of his lips so near mine sends shivers of excitement down my spine. Sinclair has kissed me before of course, but never in private, never simply because he wanted to.
My mind races with the possibilities. Will he make love to me when he returns? Is his attraction that strong? I can’t stop imagining it. Will he be gentle and tender the way he’s been when I most needed comfort? Will he be rough and dominating, unleashing the animal within? Or will he be some combination of the two, passion in all its varying forms?
I finally pull myself out of my daydreams when the water runs cold. I yelp when the heat disappears, dousing me in icy reality.
What am I doing? Who is this silly, sex-crazed girl who’s taken over my mind? Sinclair and I don’t have a future together, so why am I letting the little voice in my head get so carried away with longing for the impossible? That’s not me – I’ve always been practical and realistic, not some starry eyed dreamer. Shaking myself, I cut off the water and grab a towel, determined to stop being so silly.
No sooner have I stepped out of the shower that a knock sounds at the bedroom door. “Miss, you have a visitor!” A maid calls through the thick wooden panel.
I do? This is a surprise. No one has ever visited me here, and the only person who might is Cora – but it’s the middle of the day, surely she’s at work. Even though I rationalized this, I’m still surprised when I get downstairs it’s not Cora waiting for me. It’s just about the last person I would have expected to see – Sinclair’s estranged brother, Roger.
“Hello Ella.” He greets me, standing from his chair.
I freeze in the doorway of the sitting room, unable to process the sight before me. “What are you doing here?”
“Easy now.” He raises his hands in supplication, “I come in peace.”
“Excuse me if I find that hard to believe.” I cut.
“I came to apologize for the way I behaved the day we met. I’m ashamed to say that my brother brings out the worst in me. It was wrong to take that out on you.” Roger states remorsefully.
“You know I really don’t understand you two.” I confess. “Where I come from, siblings are all you have – the only friends, the only family or allies. It seems very strange to me that you and Dominic are so at odds.”
“Where do you come from?” He asks thoughtfully.
“The shadow pack.” I’ve told the lie so many times now that I don’t even have to think about it. “But my parents died when I was young.”
“I’m very sorry to hear that.” He says, sounding surprisingly genuine. “But it’s different for Dom and I. Your circumstances pushed you and your siblings together, ours tore us apart. Being the sons of an Alpha sets you in competition with one another from a young age. Our father never encouraged it, but we always knew that one of us would rule one day – and we both wanted to prove ourselves.”
“That must have been difficult.” I empathize, remembering what Sinclair also told me about their mother’s death. “But it doesn’t excuse the things you said to me.”
“Ella, I truly am sorry.” He professes again, raising a finger to qualify his statement. “At least, for the way I spoke to you. But I’m afraid I can’t apologize for the things I said.”
My shoulder’s stiffen. “Shouldn’t it be the reverse?”
“No, because I wasn’t lying.” Roger frowns deeply. “I may have been speaking spitefully but my heart was in the right place.”
I cut my eyes to him, “I don’t think spite can ever be the right place.”
“I was trying to warn you.” Roger insists, “And I’d warn you again if you’ll let me.”
“I’ll listen to what you have to say.” I concede, my morbid curiosity burgeoning. “but I won’t promise to take it to heart.”
Roger sighs, almost seeming relieved. “What has Dom told you about Lydia?” He asks.
I’m taken aback for a moment. I remember Roger’s harsh words about how I was nothing but a womb to him, that he’d toss me aside as soon as the pup came along, but I wasn’t expecting him to bring up Lydia. “That they were fated, but she left when he couldn’t give her children.” I summarize simply.
“And did he mention that she hasn’t had pup with her chosen mate either?” Roger presses.
“No, why would he?” I inquire, though I can already see where this is going.
“They always assumed the root of fertility struggles lied with him.” Roger explains, “But now that it’s clear that he can father children after all, I guarantee she’ll be back.”
“Just because she comes back, it doesn’t mean Dominic will accept her.” I remark coolly. In my head I’m thinking that he won’t be so quick to forgive a mate who turned her back on him, fated or not, but I also have to remember I’m supposed to be Dominic’s second chance mate. I need Roger to think I’m confident enough in our bond that Lydia’s return wouldn’t challenge it.
“Ella,” He says my name as if it’s an apology itself. “They’re fated. Take it from someone who learned the hard way – chosen mates can be wonderful, but the Goddess’s bond is stronger than all else.”
“It happened to you?” I ask, intrigued by his statement.
Roger laughs, “I see Dom left out that part of the story, did he?”
“What part?” I clarify uncertainly.
“Lydia was my lover first.” He reveals. “She’d agreed to a formal mating ceremony and everything. We knew we weren’t fated, but we thought our love would be strong enough. Then Dominic came of age, and their bond came to life. Everything that had once been between us… disappeared overnight.”
“Dominic stole Lydia from you?” I can barely stop myself from gaping with the surprise of this news. Sinclair certainly hadn’t shared that part of the tale when he explained Roger’s disdain for him.
“They were fated.” Roger shrugs, much more accepting that I would have been about the situation. “Neither of them had a choice in the matter… and he won’t have a choice when she comes back either.”
“And you’re certain she’ll return?” I prompt.
“I’m sure of it.” Roger relates gently. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this… and I hope I’m wrong. But you should prepare yourself. I wish I’d had someone to warn me this way.”
“Well thank you for telling me. I’ll take your advice into consideration.” I reply honestly.
I thought about Roger’s words for a long time after he left. I still don’t trust the man, after all he definitely has a chip on his shoulder when it comes to Sinclair. I’m curious about why Sinclair left out the details about his past relationship with Lydia, but not enough to believe Roger hook, line and sinker.
Besides, true or not it doesn’t really change anything at the end of the day. Roger thought he was warning me, but he doesn’t know I’m human, that I’ve already been warned and indeed, prepared for a new mate to come into Sinclair’s life eventually anyway. Sure, I wasn’t expecting it to be Lydia – but the identity of the woman doesn’t really matter, I’ll cease being Luna regardless.
I’m still glad of the idea that my baby might have half siblings one day, but it is an important reminder to protect my heart. I was already questioning myself before Roger turned up, and his cautionary tale just reinforces the need to shield my heart against the Alpha. If I keep carrying on this way, mooning over a man who is completely out of my reach and letting my feelings get completely carried away, I’ll basically be asking for heartbreak.
Sinclair might be build for casual sex, but I’m not, and that means I have to stop the flirtation before it goes too far.
That night, I go to sleep in my own bed for the first time in a week. I don’t expect to be missed. Sinclair still isn’t home, and after what I heard this afternoon – I’m glad for some time alone. The last thing I need is for Sinclair to come home and truly attempt to finish what we started this afternoon. No matter how badly I might want to indulge those desires – I know they’re a recipe for disaster.
Half-asleep, it seems that a person came to my bedside. Who?
