Chapter 47
Chapter forty-seven
Luna
My body aches in ways that remind me of every touch, every caress, every moment he made me forget my own name.
The sheets beneath me are rumpled and twisted.
My skin tingles with the ghost of his hands, the memory of his fingers wrapped around my throat as he punished me for kissing Damien.
I can still feel the barest hint of his body pressing into mine, separated only by fabric and his iron restraint.
Tears gather at the corners of my eyes as the images flood back, sharp and vivid enough to make my breath catch.
I roll onto my side, wincing at the pleasant ache between my thighs.
He left after only fucking me once. No second round.
No third. He never does that, even when he’s angry.
Especially when he’s angry. I’m usually begging him, tears streaming down my face, telling him I can’t take any more before he relents.
But tonight, he left after taking me once, with barely a look back.
And it feels wrong.
The confusion sits heavy in my chest, mixing with the bliss still pulsing through my veins. I press my face into the sheets, breathing in the faint scent of him that clings to the fabric. That distinct clean, dark, woodsy scent that makes my pulse quicken even now.
My legs tremble as I push myself up, the reminder of his intensity sending aftershocks through my core. I need to clean up. Too often, I let myself fall asleep with his semen inside me, but the last thing I need right now is another UTI.
I lift the torn fragments of the silk babydoll, my lips curving and my body shivering at the memory of him tearing it from me like I hoped he would. His reaction was worth every dime it cost.
The bathroom tiles are cold against my bare feet, and I hiss at the contrast. Everything feels heightened, sensitive, like my skin is still buzzing from his touch.
I toss the nightgown into the trash and take care of what I need to, my body protesting the loss of him even as my practical mind knows it’s necessary.
When I catch sight of myself in the mirror, I pause. My hair is wild, my nipples swollen, and there are faint red marks along my throat and hips, on my breasts, and around my wrists from the zip ties. I look claimed and wrecked, and the sight sends a fresh wave of heat through me.
I wrap my robe around myself, the fabric cool and soothing against my flushed skin, and pad back into the bedroom.
Shadow sits in the hallway, his massive frame statue-still, eyes fixed on me with that patient expression he gets when nature calls. His tail gives a single thump against the hardwood floor.
“Really? Again?” I sigh, but there’s no real irritation in my voice. He’s been patient enough while I was… occupied. “Fine. Come on, baby. When you gotta go, you gotta go.”
He bounds ahead of me as I make my way downstairs. The house feels too quiet, too empty all of a sudden, without the weight of my wolf’s presence. I try to shake off the hollow feeling as I flip on the porch light and unlock the front door.
The cold hits me like a slap, and I grab my boots and coat from the closet.
Snow crunches under Shadow’s paws as he trots out into the yard, his dark gray fur stark against the white blanket covering everything.
More flurries drift down from the heavy sky, catching the porch light like tiny diamonds.
I pull my coat tighter and lean against the doorframe, watching him sniff around his usual spots. The night is beautiful in that pristine way snow creates, muffling sound and smoothing over all the rough edges of the world.
But something feels off.
The sensation starts as a prickle at the base of my neck, that uncomfortable awareness that makes my shoulders tense. I’m used to being watched. My wolf’s gaze is as familiar as my own reflection now. But this feels different. Heavier.
My eyes scan the treeline, and the feeling intensifies. It’s coming from the woods across the property, not from his usual vantage point. And besides, he just left. Why would he leave and then watch me from the trees?
“Shadow,” I call, my voice sharp.
But he’s already noticed something. His head snaps up from where he was investigating a snow-covered bush, and his throat vibrates with a growl. His hackles rise as he stares in the same direction that has my skin crawling.
“Shadow, come here. Now.”
Instead of obeying, he takes a step toward the woods, his growl deepening. The sound raises goosebumps along my arms that have nothing to do with the cold.
“Shadow, no!” Panic edges into my voice as he starts toward the treeline, his massive form cutting through the snow. “Come back here!”
He pauses at the edge of the trees, his growl turning into something more threatening, more feral. For a moment, I think he’s going to ignore me and disappear into the darkness. But then he turns and bounds back, placing himself between me and whatever lurks in those shadows.
His lips pull back to bare teeth that could tear a man’s throat out, and his eyes never leave the woods. A continuous low vibration rolls from deep in his throat, a warning that makes my blood run cold.
The full moon breaks through the clouds, casting everything in a silver glow, and I swear I see movement in the trees. A figure retreating deeper into the shadows. But there’s no metallic glint of a mask catching the light, no familiar silhouette that would ease the fear clawing at my ribs.
This isn’t my wolf.
Could it be Caleb? No, he's got enough self-preservation to stay away once he's been warned off. And it can't be Damien either. He wouldn't skulk around in the trees. Plus, his estate sits to the east, and whoever I just saw was in the western tree line.
“Inside. Now.”
I grab Shadow’s collar, pulling him toward the door even though he outweighs me by almost fifty pounds.
He moves with me, his head still twisted toward the tree line. The growl rolls through his chest, vibrating up through my grip. I slam the door shut and lock it, my fingers shaking as I punch in the alarm code. The familiar beep of activation does little to calm my racing heart.
Shadow paces in front of the door, whining now, his instincts telling him there’s a threat he needs to eliminate. I trust his judgment more than my own when it comes to danger. Wolves don’t growl at nothing.
“It’s okay.”
I run my fingers through his thick fur, but the words feel hollow. It’s not okay. Someone else is out there, watching. Someone who doesn’t belong.
I climb the stairs on unsteady legs, Shadow close at my heels, both of us listening for any sound that might indicate we’re not alone. The house settles around us with its usual creaks and sighs, but every noise makes me jump.
In my bedroom, I check the window locks twice before closing the curtains for the first time in months. Shadow settles on the rug beside my bed, rather than in his corner.
As I climb back into bed, where my wolf’s scent lingers on the sheets, I try to dismiss it as mere shadows playing tricks in the moonlight.
But the knot of unease in my stomach tells me otherwise.
I pull the blankets up to my chin and stare at the ceiling, trying to shake off the fear that something just changed. The now familiar safety I’ve found in the twisted dance between my wolf and me has been tainted by a darker, more dangerous presence.
I close my eyes, hoping the morning will bring answers.
Or at least make the fear seem less real.