Third POV
Mason’s voice ca through the mind link clearly. ‘What kind of lesson did you have in mind, Your Majesty?’
Zayne’s eyes remained fixed on Estelle’s sleeping form as he responded. ‘Nothing permanent. Just enough to make them understand that their actions have consequences.’
‘Understood,’ Mason replied without hesitation. ‘I’ll handle it discreetly.’
Zayne nodded to himself before adding, ‘Also, reach out to the Tidal Valley Pack. I noticed they’re on the list of negotiations Estelle needs to handle.’
There was a brief pause before Mason responded. ‘Tidal Valley?’
The Tidal Valley Pack was led by Alpha Jude Reed, with whom Zayne had maintained a fairly close friendship through the years.
‘Yes. Contact him and ensure those negotiations go smoothly for Estelle. After Silverclaw, Tidal Valley represents the next biggest deal Blackmoon needs to secure.’
‘Of course, Your Majesty. I’ll reach out to Alpha Jude imdiately.’
Mason hesitated for a mont before adding, ‘If I may say so, you’re helping Miss Harper quite extensively.’
Zayne’s jaw tightened slightly. ‘Just do what you’re told, Mason.’
Mason’s awkward laugh echoed through the link. ‘Of course. My apologies.’
Before ending the connection, Zayne added one more instruction. ‘I also want you to dig into Alpha Asher from the Moonveil Pack. Get everything you can find.’
‘Moonveil?’ Mason’s confusion was evident. ‘That’s such a small pack. Why the interest?’
‘It’s where Estelle grew up,’ Zayne replied curtly. ‘I want every piece of information you can find, especially about their Alpha.’
‘Understood. I’ll get right on it.’
Zayne severed the mind link and turned his attention back to Estelle. She had shifted slightly in her sleep, one hand curled beneath her cheek. Even at rest, there was sothing elegant about her posture.
He pulled the blanket up to her shoulders before quietly leaving the room.
***
Estelle’s POV
The pounding in my head felt like soone was using a hamr against my skull. I sat up slowly, blinking against the unfamiliar surroundings that greeted .
This wasn’t my bedroom.
Panic flickered through briefly until I looked down and saw I was still wearing my clothes from last night. The panic subsided, replaced by confusion. Where exactly was I?
I stretched my tired body, trying to piece together the fragnted mories from the evening before. I rembered the eting with Hayden, the successful negotiation with Silverclaw Pack, and Caleb helping out of the club when I felt dizzy.
After that, everything beca hazy. There were flashes of soone carrying , strong arms that made feel safe despite my disorientation. I assud it had been Caleb, but sothing nagged at , suggesting otherwise.
As I moved, I beca aware of a strange tingling sensation on my neck and shoulder. It wasn’t painful or itchy, just persistent and oddly noticeable. I touched the area gently and realized it was my mark that was causing the sensation.
Curious, I climbed out of bed and found a mirror across the room. The mark looked slightly raw and sensitive to the touch, which struck as unusual. I pulled my shirt up slightly to cover it better.
Taking a deep breath, I made my way out of the unfamiliar bedroom. The apartnt was spacious and elegantly decorated, though it had a distinctly masculine feel to it.
In the living area, I spotted a figure seated at the dining table with his back to . My heart began racing inexplicably, and I felt strange butterfly sensations in my chest.
I pushed the feelings down and approached slowly. At the sound of my footsteps, the man turned around.
Zayne.
My surprise must have been obvious because his lips almost curved into what might have been amusent. So this was his apartnt, which ant he was the one who had carried here last night.
“Good morning,” I said, trying to maintain my composure despite the way his presence seed to affect .
He nodded in acknowledgnt, his response brief but not unfriendly. I could feel his attention on , studying in that intense way of his.
“Thank you for your hospitality last night,” I continued. “And for helping .”
“There’s no need to thank ,” Zayne replied, his voice steady. “We’re engaged. As your fiancé, this is what I should do.”
His words triggered sothing in my mory. Sudden flashes from the previous evening began surfacing—fragnted images of clinging to him, burying my face against his neck, and feeling inexplicably safe in his arms.
Heat crept up my cheeks as the mories beca clearer. Had I really been that forward with him while intoxicated?
I caught the slight upturn of Zayne’s lips when he noticed my blush, though the expression disappeared almost imdiately.
“Sit,” he said, gesturing to the chair across from him. “Have breakfast.”
My first instinct was to decline. I had work to catch up on and couldn’t afford to waste ti on leisurely als. “I should really get back to—”
“I insist,” Zayne interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argunt.
Reluctantly, I took the offered seat. The breakfast spread was simple but perfectly arranged—pancakes, fresh fruit, coffee, and maple syrup. What struck most was how everything on the table seed to align with my personal preferences.
“What a coincidence,” I murmured to myself. “We seem to have similar tastes in food.”
I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until I started eating. The pancakes were perfectly fluffy, and I found myself adding generous amounts of maple syrup. As I ate, so of the syrup had gotten on the corner of my mouth without my notice.
Zayne’s quiet laughter made look up. “What’s so funny?”
“You have sothing...” he said, gesturing vaguely toward his own mouth.
I wiped at what I thought was the right spot, but apparently missed because Zayne was still looking amused.
“Here,” he said, reaching across the table.
Before I could react, his thumb brushed gently against the corner of my lips, cleaning away the sticky sweetness. The touch was soft, almost intimate, and sent an unexpected jolt through .
But what happened next left completely speechless.
Zayne brought his thumb to his mouth and licked the maple syrup clean.
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