"Moonheart, please talk to !"
"Lunara has been here since Friday and you didn’t think I should know?"
"Moonheart, you know she doesn’t exist in my mind. She is the last thing I will ever rember."
"And the dinner?"
"She ca to the feeding table and delivered a ssage my father passed through her. I have even forgotten what she said because I... didn’t pay attention."
"Really?"
"Yes"
"Brandon... why does Lunara act like she still has a place in your life?"
"She doesn’t."
"Then why did she walk in here like she belongs to you?"
His eyes hardened. "You’re imagining things."
"I’m not!" Emma snapped. "Sothing happened between you two while I was away!"
First, you didn’t tell she was here. Second, she ca to the feeding chamber to deliver a ssage. Since when did the King make her an interdiary between you and him? I demand an answer!"
"Moonheart please stop!"
"No, Brandon, I won’t stop until you tell why she still believes you belong to her."
"Because she’s choosing to believe what she wants."
You’re clearly giving her that impression when I’m not around, and I want to know why," she sniffed, turning her back on him.
A heavy silence settled between them.
Brandon didn’t answer imdiately. His gaze lingered on her turned back, unreadable.
"I told you," he said finally, voice low and controlled, "she’s irrelevant to ."
Emma’s shoulders tensed, but she didn’t turn back.
A pause stretched again—longer this ti.
Then her voice broke through the silence, quieter... but sharper.
"Then tell , Brandon..."
Slowly, she turned her head just enough for him to see her eyes.
"...why does she believe she’s the one you love?"
"Because she’s choosing to believe what she wants."
"Really?"
Brandon crossed his arms over his chest and fixed his gaze on her. He stood rigid, words caught in his throat, torn between defending himself and calming the storm he could see rising in her eyes.
"I’m not giving her any impression. You know I have respect for she-wolves," he said, though a spark of unease crossed his mind...he wondered if his actions had unknowingly sent the wrong signal.
"Including the one that screws your father?" she snapped, her voice sharp, masking the hurt clawing at her chest as jealousy and betrayal tangled inside her.
"Stop! Don’t say that again!" he shouted, anger surging to cover the guilt and confusion he didn’t want to confront.
"I won’t stop until you tell what I want to hear!" she fired back, her heart pounding—desperate for reassurance but too wounded to ask for it gently.
Tears slipped down her cheeks as she turned away, refusing to look at him.
The silence between them hurt more than the argunt.
When his hand finally touched her waist, she didn’t move away imdiately... and that scared her more than anything.
"Moonheart, I’m sorry... please forgive ," he said softly, his voice laced with regret, silently wishing he could undo every word that had led them here.
"No, I want to go back to my father’s house," she replied, her voice trembling despite her resolve. She removed his hands and walked toward her clothes hanger, fighting the urge to turn back and fall into his arms.
"Oh, my Moon Goddess... you can’t be serious. You’d rather run away than face this with ? Is that really how little faith you have in us?"
"I’m not running away, Brandon. I’m protecting myself from sothing I no longer understand."
"You are not going to give that wealthy High Fang Regent pup attitude, are you?"
"Yes, I am!"
"I won’t accept it!"
"You can call it whatever you like...I don’t care! I’m going back to my father since you don’t even think what you did was wrong!"
"You are not going anywhere!" he yelled, snatching the clothes she had taken down from the hanger and hanging them back up, his chest tightening with the fear of losing her again. He knew he sounded controlling, but panic drowned out reason.
"Brandon, let go!" she yelled back, her heart aching at how desperate he sounded, yet her pride and hurt refused to let her soften. Part of her wanted to stay, but she clung to the anger to keep from breaking.
"Moonheart, you are not going anywhere. Two days without you felt like living in hell!" he confessed, his voice cracking slightly, torn between holding on to her and fearing he might push her further away.
"I want to give both of you a chance. You can keep having your dinners and kisses all you want!" she said, tears rushing down her cheeks as if he would actually agree to it. She pulled another piece of clothing from the hanger, and he imdiately put it back again.
"Fine! I’ll go with the towel," she said, and tried to walk swiftly away. He ran after her, put his hands around her waist, and held her tight. She couldn’t free herself from his grip.
She tried, but only succeeded in loosening her towel. She reached to fix it, but her back was already pressed against the wall and His lips found hers—urgent, unrestrained, silencing every protest left in her chest.
Emma froze... then lted into him against her will.
The bond between them flared violently, pulling them closer than anger ever could push them apart.
Feeling his hard wolf against hers sent a sharp rush through her, her wolf reacting fiercely, and she drew in a trembling breath, caught between shock and a heat she couldn’t deny.
She hated how quickly her wolf betrayed her—one mont anger, the next her wolf answering him instead of her pride.
Words failed her, and any thought of protest faded as his lips trailed lower, leaving her breathless and helpless beneath his touch.
All she wanted in that mont was sothing hot and consuming, a passion that erased everything else. He lifted her and gently laid her on the sofa bed, his gaze lingering on her as desire burned between them. Overwheld by need, tears slipped down her cheeks when the anticipation beca too much to bear.
Unable to wait any longer, she pulled him down, taking control as she moved against him, releasing every trace of tension and doubt in a wild, unrestrained rhythm. He shut his eyes tightly, a low, broken groan escaping him as he surrendered to the mont.
In that instant, she felt it again...that deep, undeniable connection between them. It was as though an invisible bond held them together, refusing to let go, as if she could not move without him following, and he could not exist without her pull.
"Moonheart, I’m sorry," he whimpered as he took over from her. She nodded and tried to look away. He returned her gaze and forced her to look at him. "It won’t happen again," he said, and she nodded further. His mouth ca coaxingly down on her as he continued boring deep into her. A few minutes later Emma turned to face Brandon
"Now let’s settle this once and for all, because I’m gonna deal with you if you ever show pity to Lunara again, knowing she’s doing it on purpose."
"Well, before we settle anything ,let’s recall what happened the first day we t," Brandon said, looking into her eyes after an intense mont of bonding. She smiled and lowered her eyes as soon as she understood the angle he was coming from.
"You pulled down and turned into a punching bag. I’m not a stupid wolf, and it doesn’t an I can’t beat you...but I couldn’t raise my hand in retaliation. It has always been part of , and I’ve tried several tis to change it, but I couldn’t."
"You can...."
"My moonblessed one, if wolves could change who they are, you would have changed a long ti ago, but you keep being stubborn every day."
She grinned, hit his shoulder playfully, and tried to push him away. He moved his face closer to her face instead.
"Moonheart, you slapped five good tis. Did I ever slap you back?"
"No... and I’m sorry," she whispered.
"It’s okay, let’s go and eat," Brandon said and slowly pulled himself away from her. He tidied her up and dressed her.
They walked down the stairs slowly and kept giggling as she narrated what Morgan, Evan’s sibling, told her last Friday. She had no idea the extent he would have gone to make sure she beca his again.
They sat on the feeding chairs, and she began to sniff the air like a tracking hound. She hadn’t done that since they were mated, and Brandon grew worried. He hoped her sudden sensitivity to sll wasn’t a sign of illness.
"What is it?" He asked after staring at her face for a few seconds.
"Nothing," she grinned, picked up the cutlery, and began to eat. He continued staring at her. She tried several tis to assure him that everything was okay with her, but he was not convinced. He lifted the communication device he kept on the table and dialed Healer Ben’s number.
"What are you doing?" she asked, surprised.
Brandon didn’t answer imdiately. His eyes stayed locked on her—strange, unreadable.
"Her scent..." he murmured, almost to himself. "It’s changed."
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