Chapter 15 - Sera
I wake up naked in a bed that isn’t mine, which seems to be becoming a habit these days.
The morning sun warms my face through unfamiliar windows. Cotton sheets smell like cedar and old books and sex. My body aches in places I’ve never felt sore before—a deep, pleasant soreness that reminds me of everything Reeyan did to me last night.
Everything we did together.
Heat floods my cheeks at the memory. His mouth on me. His hands. The way he made me come apart three times. The knot that locked us together while pleasure rolled through both of us in waves that seemed endless.
I’ve never felt anything like that. Never even imagined I could feel that much. The curse kept everything muted my entire life, turning what should have been passion into something distant and forgettable. But last night…
Last night, I felt everything.
I turn my head on the pillow. Reeyan sleeps beside me, one arm draped across my waist like he’s afraid I’ll disappear. The way his dark blond hair is even messier than usual would be amusing if my heart wasn’t currently trying to beat its way out of my chest.
I feel satisfied in a way I’ve never experienced. Not just the physical satisfaction of good sex—though it was definitely that—but something deeper. A rightness that terrifies me more than any Thornridge threat.
Because I gave myself to him. Completely. Without reservation. I violated every principle of Llewelyn independence and emotional control by surrendering to desire and letting someone else see me at my most undone.
The thought makes panic crawl up my throat.
I need space. Need to think without the mate bond muddling everything and figure out what last night means before I have to face him and pretend I have any idea what I’m doing.
I slip out from under his arm as carefully as possible.
He mumbles something in his sleep but doesn’t wake.
Small mercies. I gather my scattered clothes from the floor—evidence of how desperate we both were—and flee to the guest room before he can open his eyes and see the confusion I know is written all over my face.
The shower runs hot enough to scald me, but it doesn’t wash away the questions tangling my thoughts.
Did I make that choice last night, or did the mate bond make it for me?
How do I tell the difference between real emotion and supernatural coercion?
Between who I really am and who the curse has made me?
I stand under the spray until the water runs lukewarm, then force myself to dry off and get dressed. Running away to the guest room like a scared child won’t solve anything. Eventually, I’ll have to face Reeyan. Have to figure out what last night means for us going forward.
If it means anything at all beyond satisfying biological urges.
I take my time getting ready, delaying the inevitable. Brush my hair. Find clean clothes in the bag Raegan brought yesterday when she dropped my car off after having rescued it from where I abandoned it. Stare at my reflection in the mirror and try to recognize the woman looking back.
She has the same silver-blonde hair. Same pale blue eyes. Same face I’ve seen every day for twenty-four years.
But something has changed. I can see it in the way I hold myself. In the flush still coloring my cheeks. In the mark Reeyan left on my neck, where he bit down during one of my orgasms.
I’m not the same woman who arrived here five days ago. Not the same reserved, controlled Llewelyn archivist who knew exactly who she was and what she valued.
That woman wouldn’t have kissed a man she barely knew or let him take her apart piece by piece until she was begging for more. She definitely wouldn’t have felt the kind of soul-deep satisfaction still running through my veins this morning.
So, who am I now?
I don’t have an answer. Just more questions that multiply faster than I can sort through them.
When I finally emerge from the guest room, voices drift from the kitchen. Male voices. More than one.
I freeze in the hallway. Who else is here?
“—think you’re keeping her safe, but you’re playing with fire.” The unfamiliar voice carries an edge of warning. “The curse isn’t going to let her go without a fight.”
“I’m aware of the risks.” Reeyan sounds tired. “But breaking it is the only way to protect her long-term.”
“And completing the mate bond? Was that part of your brilliant protection strategy, or did you just lose control?”
My stomach drops. They’re talking about last night. About what Reeyan and I did.
“That’s none of your business, Axle.”
Axle. Reeyan mentioned him before. Another Grayhide pack member. Someone he trusts.
“It becomes my business when you’re making decisions that could destabilize inter-pack relations.” Axle doesn’t sound angry, just concerned. “Matriarch Lydia isn’t going to take kindly to learning you claimed her niece without a formal courtship.”
“Sera isn’t a prize to be claimed. She made her own choice.”
“Did she? Or did the mate bond make it for her?” Axle’s question mirrors my own doubts so perfectly that it makes me flinch. “The curse has been suppressing her ability to feel for her entire life. How does she know what she actually wants versus what the bond is pushing her toward?”
“She knows. Don’t underestimate her just because she’s been living under magical suppression. Sera is smart and capable and perfectly able to make her own decisions.”
“I’m not underestimating her. I’m worried about her.
” Footsteps move across the kitchen. “And I’m worried about you.
You’ve never been this invested in anyone before.
Never let anyone get close enough to matter.
Now you’re risking everything—your position, your pack relationships, your research—for a woman you met just over a week ago. ”
“She’s my mate.”
“She’s a Llewelyn omega whose pack is under a three-hundred-year-old curse, being targeted by an enemy force that wants to exploit that curse, and you just completed a bond that could make breaking said curse exponentially more dangerous for both of you.
” Axle sighs. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t have claimed her.
I’m saying you need to think about the consequences before they blow up in your face. ”
The conversation falls silent. I stand frozen in the hallway, mulling over everything I just overheard.
Axle is right about one thing—I don’t know anything except that I’m in way over my head.
I turn around and retreat back to the guest room before either of them realizes I was listening. My phone sits on the nightstand where I left it, screen lit up with multiple notifications.
Three messages from Caelan asking if I’m okay and when I’ll be home. One from my aunt requesting an update on the investigation. Two missed calls from numbers I don’t recognize.
The guilt twists deeper. My sister worries about me. My aunt expects regular reports. My pack needs me to figure out this curse situation before Thornridge makes their move.
And here I am, hiding in a guest room because I don’t know how to face the man I slept with or the questions I can’t answer.
I type out a response to Caelan. Still working on the research project. Everything is fine. Will call soon.
Before I can send it, someone knocks on the guest room door.
“Sera?” Reeyan’s voice comes through the wood. “Can we talk?”
My finger hovers over the send button. I could pretend I’m not here. Could hide in this room until he gives up and leaves.
But that’s cowardice. And whatever else I am—confused, scared, overwhelmed—I’m not a coward.
I delete the unsent message and open the door.
Reeyan stands in the hallway, fully dressed now. Those green eyes search my face with concern that makes my chest ache.
He doesn’t try to touch me, keeping a respectful distance. “I got a message this morning. From Isla Moonwhisper. She’s agreed to meet with us this afternoon.”
Isla. The elder and keeper of Llewelyn oral histories. Ancient and terrifying, and possibly the only person who might know the truth about the curse beyond what we found in Hysopp archives.
“Isla agreed to talk to you? She doesn’t speak to outsiders. Ever.”
“Your aunt contacted her and explained the situation. Made it clear this investigation has official pack sanction.” He pulls out his phone and shows me the message. “She’s willing to meet at two o’clock this afternoon.”
I read through Isla’s terse message. Classic her—no wasted words, no pleasantries, just essential information delivered with maximum efficiency.
“If Isla agreed to meet, she knows something.” I hand the phone back. “She wouldn’t waste her time otherwise. The woman is older than most of the trees in this valley, and she doesn’t suffer fools or pointless conversations.”
“Then we'd better make sure our questions are good ones.” He pockets his phone. “I’ve been compiling a list based on what we learned from Evangeline. Want to help me refine it?”
Research. Questions. Concrete tasks that have nothing to do with mate bonds or feelings or what happened in his bed last night. I grab onto the lifeline gratefully.
“Yes. Let me get my notes.”
We spend the morning at his dining table, surrounded by books and documents and carefully crafted questions.
What does Isla remember about the time of change three hundred years ago?
Are there oral histories that mention Moira Ashwood or the Hysopp Coven?
Has there ever been talk within pack leadership about the emotional distance being anything other than cultural tradition?
Reeyan takes notes in his worn journal while I cross-reference historical records. Gradually, I feel myself settling. The awkwardness from this morning fades as we work together, falling into rhythms that feel natural despite how little time we’ve actually known each other.
Axle joins us after an hour, bringing coffee and pastries from somewhere in town.
He greets me with politeness that suggests he knows I overheard his conversation with Reeyan earlier.
To his credit, he doesn’t bring it up, just sets the food on the table and jumps into the research discussion like this is perfectly normal.
Maybe it is normal. Maybe working through three-hundred-year-old curses while processing new mate bonds is just what my life looks like now.
The thought should terrify me. Instead, it settles something in my chest. Acceptance, maybe. Or just exhaustion from fighting against reality.
“We should leave soon.” Reeyan checks the time around noon. “It’s about an hour’s drive, and we don’t want to keep Isla waiting. She seems like the type who considers tardiness a personal insult.”
“She absolutely is.” I gather my notes and tuck them into a folder.
“Fair warning—she’s going to interrogate you.
Ask questions about your intentions, your research methods, and why you think you have the right to investigate Llewelyn history.
Isla doesn’t trust easily, and she definitely doesn’t trust outsiders. ”
“I can handle tough questions.” He stands and stretches. “Though I appreciate the warning.”
Axle excuses himself, mentioning something about checking in with Oren. That leaves Reeyan and me alone in the suddenly quiet house.
He moves around the kitchen, tidying counters and putting away books. “Ready?” He grabs his keys from the counter.
Am I ready? Ready to face my pack’s elder with questions about a curse? Ready to return to Llewelyn territory after everything that’s happened? Ready to acknowledge what Reeyan and I have become to each other?
No. I’m not ready for any of it.
But I’m going anyway.