I’ve been pacing my room for hours, my wolf snarling just beneath my skin, when the door opens—no knock, no warning. Gwendolyn glides in, all soft cream and false innocence, the perfect picture of grace.
“Sister,” she says sweetly. “I wanted to apologize before the wedding. Clear the air.”
“Get out.”
She smiles like she’s humoring a child. “Is that any way to treat family?”
She lifts my hairbrush, studying it like she’s deciding whether to steal it too.
“I really do feel awful about screwing my fiancé?” My voice cuts sharp.
“Oh, Coralina.” Her laugh is light, cruel. “So dramatic. But since you asked—Elijah told me how it was with you. Cold. Dutiful. No spark.”
The words land like blades, each one precise, deliberate. But I don’t move, won’t give her the pleasure.
“He said I was everything you weren’t,” she purrs, eyes gleaming. “He loved my fire. Said when I touched him, he finally felt alive.”
“Shut up…”
She leans closer, voice dropping. “He especially loved—”
“I said shut up!” My voice cracks through the room like lightning.
My wolf lunges beneath my skin and I can feel the edge of my teeth lengthen.
“There she is. The real you,” Gwendolyn whispers, triumphant. “Too bad Elijah never saw that side…”
“Why?” The word escapes as a growl. “Why do this?”
“Because I could.” Her tone is almost bored, and she’s already at the door. “And because Father planned to sell me to the king’s harem after your wedding. So I took what should’ve been mine.”
“A year…” I whisper, realization sinking like a stone.
She pauses, glances back with a smile sharp enough to draw blood. “No hard feelings, sister. You’ll have plenty of time to practice in the harem. Who knows? You might even learn to be warm.”
The door clicks, her words ringing in the sudden quiet.
Something breaks—not into tears, but rage. Heat scours shame to steel as hours drag toward a blood-red sunset; my anger hardens, cold and sharp.
So I run. Moonlit festival tents still loom like ghosts. I don’t know why I come—only that anywhere is better than that house.
"I was hoping you'd come."
I spin, and there he is—Luca, leaning against a tent pole with his hands in his pockets. Even in the dim light, his auburn hair catches the moon's glow, and those green eyes see too much.
"How did you know I'd be here?"
"I didn't. But I heard what happened." He straightens, moving toward me with careful steps, like I'm a wild thing that might bolt. "Nathan wanted to come, but I thought you might need someone who knows how to make you smile instead of brood."
The consideration in his voice, the gentleness, cracks something in my chest. "I don't want to smile… I want to burn the whole world down."
"That's fair." He stops a few feet away. "Want to tell me about it?"
The story spills out—not just Father’s decision, but Gwendolyn's visit, her cruel words, the year of planning. A whole life of being second-best in my own family, valued only for what I could provide them.
"They never loved me…" I whisper. "They never even liked me. I was just useful."
"You're not a tool." Luca's voice turns fierce. "You're…" He stops, jaw working like he's struggling with the words. "You're everything, Coralina."
The air between us thickens, charged with electricity that makes every nerve ending come alive. When he steps closer, I should step back. I don't.
"Do you know what it's been like?" His voice drops to a rough whisper. "Three months of dreams. Three months of tasting you, touching you, only to wake up alone. And now you're here, real, and they're sending you away to be some king's plaything when you should be—"
He cuts himself off, hands clenching at his sides.
"Should be what?" My voice comes out breathless.
"Mine." The word escapes like it's been torn from him. "Ours. But right now, in this moment, I need you to understand something."
He cups my face with both hands, and his usual playfulness is completely gone. What remains is raw intensity that makes my knees weak.
"You're not cold. You're not unresponsive. You're fire, Coralina, and anyone who can't see that is blind." His thumb traces my bottom lip, and his eyes follow the movement with predatory focus. "Let me show you. Let me prove what they said about you is lies."
His lips barely graze mine, soft and tentative, like he’s testing the waters.
"Tell me to stop," he murmurs against my mouth. "Tell me to leave, and I will. But if you let me stay, I'm going to show you exactly how wrong they all are about you."
The passion in his voice confuses me—we've known each other for days, yet he looks at me like I'm his entire world. Like losing me would destroy him.
And it undoes me completely.
"Don't stop," I whisper.
When my mouth falls open with a sharp gasp, he claims me. His tongue slides in, wet and hungry, curling around mine like he’s already imagining it somewhere else.
Luca walks me backward, his hands gripping my hips, until my spine slams into the tent pole. His body pins me there, hard and unyielding, and I can feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of my dress.
Then he drops to his knees, and my heart stops.
His hands slide up my calves, pushing the hem of my dress higher and higher until it bunches at my waist. The cool night air hits my bare thighs, and I shiver, but not from the cold.
His fingers hook into the edges of my underwear, and he doesn’t hesitate—yanks them down, letting them fall to the dirt. My pulse races as he spreads my legs wider, his breath hot against my dripping core.
“Goddess,” he mutters, his voice rough with need. “You’re so soaked for me, princess.”
His tongue drags up my slit, slow and deliberate, and I choke on a moan. He does it again, lapping at my clit like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.
My fingers tangle in his auburn hair, pulling him closer, deeper. He groans against me, the vibration sending shockwaves through my core. His lips wrap around my clit, sucking hard, and I swear I see stars.
He’s relentless, his tongue flicking and circling, driving me wild. One hand grips my thigh, keeping me open, while the other slides two fingers inside me, curling just right.
I cry out, my hips bucking against his mouth, but he doesn’t stop.
He alternates between sucking me and plunging his fingers in and out. Taking me with them in a rhythm that has me trembling.
When Luca adds a third finger, stretching me wide, I scream his name.
His mouth latches onto me, sucking and teasing until I explode, my climax crashing over me like a tidal wave. But he’s not done. He keeps going, licking me through it, prolonging every second of pleasure until I’m whimpering, oversensitive and wrung out.
Finally, he pulls back, his lips glistening with my wetness, and looks up at me with those sinful eyes.
“You taste like heaven,” he rasps, his voice wrecked.
As I tremble in his arms, my legs unsteady, my whole body singing with sensations I never imagined. He holds me like I'm something precious, tracing the crescent scar at my collarbone with gentle fingers, his touch reverent.
"This mark," he says softly, his voice rough with emotion.
Before I can process his words, respond, before I can ask what this means, voices echo through the empty grounds—maids calling my name, getting closer.
Luca kisses me once more, quick and sweet. "Go. But Coralina… this isn't over. Not even close."