Chapter 15 - Sera
The house feels different once everyone leaves after dinner, and I don’t know what to do with myself.
Standing at the kitchen sink longer than necessary, I rinse a clean plate off for the third time just to avoid looking at Luke.
I glance at my reflection in the window above the sink, not recognizing myself at first. The slight color hasn’t left my cheeks, and my face is almost softer around the edges.
I pretend not to see the faint mark peeking out beneath the collar of my shirt.
We mated beyond just the ceremony, and even now, that word feels so foreign.
Everything surrounding the bond had been forced before. As Luke claims, it was to keep me safe and out of Dawson’s grasp, and to help mend the pack’s fear of magic. But physically giving my body to him is something else entirely. I chose it and clearly wanted it, at least in the moment.
That’s the part I can’t shake the most. But even with that in mind, I don’t want to pretend like everything is perfect now, or that one night together can erase the anger I’ve been carrying ever since Luke found me.
My body and the bond don’t seem interested in my pride, but I refuse to give it up.
Luke moves behind me while he stacks dishes into the dishwasher, quiet yet moving with a subtle confidence. He’s always confident, but right now, it comes easier, like it’s completely and utterly honest.
It irritates me, just like it did during dinner.
Throughout the meal, he kept brushing up against me, sometimes fully touching, sometimes not, but it was enough for me to feel the heat of him anyway.
He did it like we’re already a settled couple falling into a familiar rhythm, as if the dinner we hosted was a normal occurrence.
He acted like his own father wasn’t looking at me like I was a liability at his son’s table.
After a moment of tense silence, I feel his eyes on me.
“That went well.”
“Well?”
“Yes. At least, better than I expected,” Luke says casually.
Facing him fully, I murmur, “Your dad didn’t lift his glass with the others.”
“I know, but he was still there,” he says, trying to school his expression, though the slight tightening in the connection gives him away. “It’s a start.”
I shake my head incredulously, trying to push away his attempt to normalize all of this. “You’re making it sound like this is something we’ll just laugh about one day. Like nothing is wrong.”
“That’s not what I’m doing,” he murmurs, looking me over now like he’s trying to gauge where this is heading.
“That’s what it feels like.”
Luke pauses while he continues to study me, gaze narrowing fractionally. “You didn’t like dinner.”
I huff out a breath, leaning back against the counter behind me. “I didn’t say that.”
“But you didn’t. You’re not exactly happy right now.”
“Maybe I’m not,” I say lamely, both wanting to resist whatever this facade is he’s trying to maintain and not wanting to get into it right now. “…I’m not used to it.”
He takes a moment, looking more curious now. “Not used to what?”
Embarrassment crawls up my spine as I cross my arms over my chest. “Being included.”
The admission feels more vulnerable and raw than I want to contend with, but it comes out too quickly for me to prevent, and immediately, his expression shifts.
“I was never included in family dinners even before Wraith Peak, and most people just avoided me altogether. So tonight was strange for me,” I add, feeling uncomfortable.
“Strange bad?”
“Strange…unfamiliar,” I mumble.
Luke nods slowly, like it makes more sense to him now. “You did well anyway.”
“I wasn’t performing,” I return sharply, gaze hardening a bit more. “But it felt like you were.”
Something moves through his gaze, as if realizing where I’m taking this and resisting the urge to give in to his own frustrations. “I was making it clear that you’re part of this, regardless of what anyone might think. I wanted to include you.”
“And I didn’t agree to that.”
He takes a breath. “You’re my mate, Sera.”
I bristle. “It’s not like I could forget. You bring it up like it explains everything, as if it absolves you of everything.”
Luke holds my gaze, but allows the silence to linger between us before he speaks up again, tone softer than expected. “I know it doesn’t, and I’m not going to pretend it does.”
Something in me doesn’t want to accept that answer despite how the tether pulls again with uneasiness, reacting fast to the rising tension. Then, I take a step back first, not wanting to spend another night fighting with him.
“I’m going to bed.”
Despite the expression on his face silently telling me he doesn’t want this conversation to end here, he holds himself back and nods. “Okay.”
To not lose my conviction, I don’t look back at him as I leave the kitchen, heading down the hall toward the spare bedroom.
A few moments later, the doorknob feels cool beneath my palm, but his voice cuts through the silence before I can even open the door.
“What are you doing?”
Freezing on the spot, I turn slowly to find him at the far end with confusion scribbled on his face, and if I look hard enough, a tinge of betrayal too.
“Going to bed.”
“In the spare room?”
I swallow and lift my chin a little higher. “Yes.”
Without meaning for it to happen, the space between us drops several degrees, and I feel as his emotions stir hard enough to make me flinch.
“No,” he mutters, brows furrowing. “You’re not sleeping in the spare room.”
Scoffing, I turn back and go to open the door, but I feel him against my back in seconds. His hand moves down my forearm and closes over my hand, not hard, but enough to make me feel the intent behind it.
“You’re not,” he reaffirms, breath brushing against my nape and sending a shiver down my spine.
Irritation flares in me at how easily my body reacts to him, and at his audacity.
“We’re not doing that.”
Loosening my grip on the doorknob, I turn away, pulling from his grasp to look at him directly as my expression hardens. “Doing what?”
Luke’s eyes take me in completely, like he’s struggling on the inside. His jaw clenches. “We’re not pretending we didn’t just take a step forward.”
I huff out a bitter sound before I can stop it. “That’s what you’re calling it?”
“What else would you call us sleeping together?”
“A mistake,” I force through gritted teeth, not backing off.
Part of me regrets saying it, from the way his expression falls, and from the bond that makes me feel his pain as my own. But I don’t take it back, and I don’t allow it to soften me.
Then, Luke’s eyes harden. “It wasn’t a mistake. Don’t reduce it to that.”
“I don’t want to act like we’re suddenly stable, or like we have any idea of what we’re doing,” I fire back, forcing myself to ignore the turbulence moving between us.
“I’m not asking for that,” he denies, expression serious.
“Then why invite everyone over and try to inject me into every conversation? You were hovering like you were trying to claim territory.”
Disbelief scatters across his face before he scoffs, gesturing to me like it should be obvious. “Because you’re my mate. Because you are in this now, and I’m trying to make this work. I’m trying to make this easier, and to protect you.”
“I don’t need protecting. I survived before you.”
It’s a loose claim, and I know it, but I don’t want to admit I need him. I don’t want to need him.
“I don’t want you to think you need to survive alone now. Not with me,” he says, hitting harder than expected. He exhales slowly after a beat, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not sleeping in the spare room.”
Despite his calm tone, I grit my teeth anyway. “I need space.”
“You had space, and I’m not letting you try to brush this off,” he says, taking a slight step back to give me room. “I won’t touch you.”
I blink back at him, caught off guard. “What?”
“I won’t touch you unless you ask me to. I’m not going to pretend last night didn’t happen, but I won’t force it either,” Luke says, sounding far too agreeable. “You can hate me, you can question every moment of this, and you can be angry, but you’re not sleeping alone.”
Standing there for a long moment as I stare up at him, trying to find any sort of weak point I can push to get him to back off from this, but he doesn’t. He has no intention of relenting, even if I want him to.
Growing tired of arguing, even if it means sacrificing my space, I huff out a breath. “Fine. But don’t touch me.”
“I won’t,” he murmurs, backing up even more.
Glaring at him while my irritation continues to swirl inside me, I step away from the spare room and move back down the hall before heading upstairs.
He doesn’t follow me at first, at least giving me that chance to breathe through the anger. I pretend not to feel the relief coming from his end of the connection, or how my inner wolf almost preens from it.
The bed looks about the same as it did this morning, and that alone almost makes it worse. Pushing the thought aside, I change quickly, fixing the covers like it’ll make the reality of it disappear, then I slide beneath them and keep to the far side.
A bit later, Luke enters the room. I hear the shuffle of fabric while he removes his shirt and bottoms, then the mattress dips as he climbs into bed.
True to his word, he keeps to his side, maintaining a healthy distance between us.
Still, it isn’t enough to stop me from feeling his warmth as it spreads over to me.
We lie there in silence for a long stretch, but I feel his every breath and movement, and the space between us still feels full of so much left unsaid. Somehow, it feels even worse.
Then, Luke clears his throat. “The Salt Mother’s Vigil is in three days. It’s an important festival for the pack when the full moon overlaps with the spring equinox. Everyone will be there.”
I tense at the mention of it, not looking back at him. “And?”
“And I need you to be there.”
My stomach sinks, and a spark of anxiety tangles with my irritation. “You need me to perform.”
Luke releases a quiet breath. “I need you to be present. You’re my mate, and that means being visible.”
“Unbelievable,” I mutter under my breath, tightening the blankets around me.
“I’m not asking you to smile and pretend like everything is perfect. I just need you there, and to not undermine our traditions.”
“I never agreed to this.”
“I know,” Luke says softly, leaving out everything he means to say.
Silence settles between us again, and despite my frustration, the link between us feels even stronger when we’re this close. It curls and twists from the tension, but it persists anyway.
Beneath it all, there’s warmth in it, and I hate that it feels good.
More so, I hate that my body remembers his touch, and I hate how badly I want to roll over and close that space. I want his arm on my waist again, and the heat of him pressed against me.
But I can’t let one night undo everything, even as the desire in my gut wants me to turn toward his heat.