SERAPHINA'S POV
It's finally nighttime, and I've slipped into bed wearing my nighties, reminiscing on all the twists and turns the day brought.
I relish the brief moment with Miss Lucy and my encounters with my childhood bullies.
Then that occurrence comes to mind-when the stone was about to hit, and I felt a surge of energy move through me just before my shadow shifted.
I'm sure no one would believe me if I said it. The idea of my shadow moving on its own sounds completely absurd.
But I know what I saw and felt; it was as real as those possessions I've experienced before, only without the hate and anger bubbling in my chest and with full control of my body, even if it was just for a brief moment.
I stare at my palm, wondering what this means.
I don't know whether to be pleased that my body wasn't taken over or devastated that there's yet another layer of myself to figure out.
I'm like a walking box of endless surprises.
Deep in thought, staring at my ceiling, I hear the sound of feet landing softly outside my balcony followed by a light groan.
Sitting up instantly, my heart pounds harder at the thought of who's there. His head appears through the door I've purposely left open, and our eyes meet.
There's that instant magical moment of staring that always happens, lasting for half a second before he blinks it away.
"Are you alone?" he asks.
I nod slowly, "Olivia stepped out for something. It's just me."
He sighs in relief and steps fully into the room, still in the same clothes he wore to school earlier-the same ones he had on before his brief meltdown and visit to his father.
He collapses onto my bed with a sigh, right beside me, and grows silent. His eyes fixate on the ceiling, the same spot that had captured my attention seconds before he arrived.
No words leave his lips.
I sense the gears turning in his head; it's clear things didn't go well.
"What happened?" I ask.
Our fingers naturally intertwine, and he grips my hand tighter as if seeking - and finding - a piece of serenity in all of his madness. He sighs, reluctant, but deciding to open up.
"It's my father, that damned old man," he begins, pausing as he clenches his brows, reliving the confrontation and reigniting his anger. His expression shifts to sadness in its most heartbreaking form. "Look, I don't want you to panic. You have to trust that I'll find something, anything, to fix this."
I feel a lump of dread rising in my throat, the same dread that's been nesting in my gut all day. I force myself to swallow.
"Okay..."
"My father...he doesn't want Kamila and me to sever our mating bond."
I take a deep, shuddering breath, filling my lungs to capacity before exhaling until they're empty, yet the cancerous hurt doesn't go away.
I force myself to stay calm.
"We expected this, of course," I offer, trying to minimize the blow. "It would be strange if he suddenly let you have your way."
But the gravity in his eyes tells me there's more-something much weightier than we'd anticipated. I breathe again, ignoring the pounding of my heart.
"He made it clear that he won't bend to my wishes. He's even using my inheritance as leverage."
As he clenches his other fist in visible frustration, my attempt to stay calm crumbles. Panic sets in, manifesting in quick, shallow breaths.
"W-what does this mean... for us? If there even is an 'us'?"
He snaps toward me, his eyes widening in a mix of confusion and a flicker of hurt, but he doesn't let go of my hand - clinging harder, more desperately than ever.
And I'm left wordless, regretting yet unable to take back my last question.
"What are you saying? Of course there's an 'us.'"
I don't know what I am to him; we've never settled on a label. All I know is that I like him, and the feeling is mutual.
I bite my lower lip, meeting his eyes more sternly.
"I don't even know what we are-if I'm your girlfriend or if this is just some situationship I have to hold onto for the time being. Now, your father won't let you break up with Kamila."
"Your entire family and clan are rooting for you to end up with her. Even the fucking moon goddess seems to want you guys to be endgame," I raise my voice a bit, flaring my free hand up in the air to underscore how bizarre the entire situation is.
"How am I supposed to feel? How do I even begin to compete with that?" My voice cracks and I swallow hard, pushing back the tears, frustration, and anger, letting him see just how deeply this all affects me.
I feel like I'm spiraling - like I'm insane to even think we'd work out.
"Hey, look at me," he says, grabbing my other hand, now holding both. He squeezes them, his soulful blue eyes brimming with sincerity and fixated on just me.
"You're mine, regardless of what they want for me. You're the one I'm crazy about. You're the one plaguing my thoughts every second of the day. You're the one I can't get enough of, no matter how much I take in." His voice turns low and sultry, his eyes lowering to my lips slowly.
I inhale sharply, forgetting how to breathe, captivated by the insatiable hunger in his gaze. He draws close, close enough that our lips almost touch, and I find myself craving it-even with the unresolved tension in the air.
Excitement wells up within me - straight down to my core.
"I need you, and I'm going to have you."
"How?" I whisper, forcing logic to reign over my desires.
He grows silent, the spark in his eyes dimming.
"I don't know," he admits after a moment.
I remain still, sinking into the perfect silence beside him. Our situation is complex; I'd wager no one else has been through something like this. As a human, falling for a wolf, especially someone as important as Artemis, is never going to be easy.
But I have to be patient. We can make this work.
Together.
Seconds pass, and I let myself simply enjoy his presence, forcing all stressful thoughts out of my head.
"How did it feel growing up with so many kids around you?" His new question takes me off guard a bit.
I wasn't expecting him to be so curious about something like that, but I welcome the change of topic.
"Loud," I respond, recalling the times when I could easily hear the whining and crying of different babies every night, and when five girls shared a small room because there was no space.
"Loud..." He repeats with a chuckle, as if he can't fathom what it means to have a home where silence is a luxury. "I wish it were loud in my home growing up."
I look at him now, fully curious, watching his eyes focus on something else, a deep longing resting right there.
"What was your childhood like then?" I ask, genuinely curious to know what life was like for little Artemis.
His face turns solemn quickly.
"Quiet, silent, still." With each word, his voice grows grim and cold.
"I was an only child in a very big house. My parents wanted more children, but then she fell ill on my third birthday, and things changed," he pauses, reliving the bits of memories he can remember, strong emotions evident on his face.
His hand trembles, and I hold onto it tightly.
"I don't fully remember the details, but she just slumped one day, fell into a deep coma. My father tried everything to revive her, but she remained still, pale, lifeless. It killed him watching his mate turn into a husk of herself." He pauses again, his voice cracking toward the end.
Each word leaves me more speechless than the last.
"Father blames me for it. I don't know all the details, but I know he does; I can feel it. His precious mate is stuck in a half-dead state because of his incompetent son. Every day he wishes he could switch places between us."
His words are bitter, filled with years of resentment and accumulated pain. I can tell he believes every word he says, that he truly thinks his father would exchange him without a second thought.
My heart breaks just watching him. A strong desire to fix everything, so he can smile again, takes over.
"Artemis, I don't think he sees it that way."
"I think he does. I've lived with him my entire life; I know. And he finally got himself a new son, one he could be proud of without harboring resentment-Lucian," he argues.
I've known they had serious issues while growing up, probably stemming from a long time ago.
"What happened between you guys?" I ask now.
He's silent, devoid of words. He's already ripped apart and emotionally drained from the memories he's been forced to relive in front of me, and now I'm reaching for more.
Guilt strikes me, and I retract my question, holding his face in my small hands and cuddling a portion of his upper body. I kiss his forehead over and over again, holding him tightly to chase the bad memories away.