SERAPHINA’S POV
The world narrowed to red.
Red like the silk twisted around Celeste’s thighs.
Red like the phantom mory of humiliation from eleven years ago.
Red like the part of that had once been small and unwanted and convinced I would always co second.
Alina surged forward, teeth bared.
‘Rip her off him.’
‘Rip him off her.’
‘Make sothing bleed.’
But before I could succumb to the savage urge to tear the suite apart, the door slamd open behind .
Dr. Hale, Nightfang’s pack doctor, rushed in, breath uneven, a large black case in his hand.
He stopped short when he saw , eyes flicking from my bared fangs to the bed.
“Lady Sera,” he said carefully, as though I were the volatile elent in the room.
Maybe I was.
“Do you have it?” Kieran snapped from behind , his voice hoarse.
Dr. Hale jolted out of his temporary stupor and rushed past .
“Secondary inhibitor,” he muttered, moving toward the bedside. “This will counteract the compounded dosage—”
Celeste’s body convulsed in Kieran’s arms, and my fury faltered as I focused on what was happening.
Celeste’s pupils were blown wide—not with desire, but panic. Sweat slicked her temples. Her fingers clutched Kieran’s shirt with frantic desperation, not seduction.
And Kieran...
He was rigid. Fully dressed except for his jacket. His posture wasn’t indulgent. It was braced. Controlled. His hands weren’t roaming; they were stabilizing.
This wasn’t intimacy.
It was containnt.
“What is going on?” I asked, voice softer.
Dr. Hale looked up, relief flickering across his face when he realized I wasn’t about to rip Kieran’s throat out.
“The secondary inhibitor isn’t taking full effect,” he said. “She’s tabolizing it too quickly.”
Celeste whimpered and buried her face in Kieran’s chest.
“It hurts,” she gasped.
I stepped closer, ignoring the sting of scent. Ignoring the image.
"Move," I commanded Kieran.
He didn’t argue. He shifted just enough for to kneel on the bed beside them.
The scent of the aphrodisiac pressed against my senses again, but I forced my awareness deeper—inward.
Into Celeste.
The room blurred at the edges as I reached, controlled threads of silver slipping beneath the surface.
Her mind was chaos.
Not structured malice. Not scheming intent.
Pain.
Disorientation.
Every nerve scread. Every instinct hijacked. Heat and fear braided together until she could no longer tell them apart.
Her thoughts were fragnted, images flashing like broken glass—hotel corridors, a drink pressed into her hand, dizziness, confusion, soone adjusting fabric, darkness.
“She’s not complicit,” I said softly.
Kieran’s jaw flexed. “I know.”
I t his eyes for the first ti since entering. Relief battled apprehension in his obsidian depths.
I looked away.
“Celeste,” I murmured.
Celeste’s head rolled toward , unfocused.
“Sera?” she whispered hoarsely.
A small, petty impulse—the part of shaped by old wounds—tried to awaken, wanting to take satisfaction in Celeste’s pain.
Then a cold balm flooded , quelling the blaze in my veins.
Alina’s presence shifted, the wildness ebbing, replaced by an unexpected calm.
Ironic that she could be both the most feral part of and the most peaceful.
“Don’t worry, Celeste,” I said, voice soft. “You’re safe.”
Her mind clawed toward any anchor it could find, and I let her latch onto my presence.
I threaded my psychic field gently around hers, dampening the frantic spikes, smoothing the erratic surges the aphrodisiac had ignited.
I cooled the heat artificially burning through her bloodstream, calm flooding gently into the overstimulated pathways of her nervous system.
Her breathing began to slow, pulse evening out under my touch.
Her body slackened, and her fingers loosened in Kieran’s shirt.
“Sleep,” I whispered into the storm of her mind.
Her body sagged, muscles going lax as unconsciousness claid her in sothing resembling peace.
Dr. Hale checked her pulse again and nodded. “That’s...far more effective.”
I withdrew slowly, careful not to jolt her psyche.
Her lashes fluttered once. Then stilled.
The room exhaled collectively.
Kieran carefully shifted her weight, easing her down fully onto the mattress now that she wasn’t clinging to him.
I turned toward the door.
“Ethan.”
My brother stood by the door, staring at Celeste as if she were a ghost. Maya’s arm was around his waist, holding him up.
“Babe.” She nudged him slightly, and he blinked.
“I—” He swallowed. “I haven’t heard from the crew I sent to bring them back, but I thought that was due to the storm. How...how is she—”
I moved toward him, placing a hand on his arm. I recognized that look in his eyes: it was the guilt he looked at with when we’d been on the road to reconciliation.
“You need to take her away from here,” I told him. “Make sure no one outside this room sees her like this.”
He swallowed back his confusion and guilt, his Alpha self-possessiveness slipping on as he moved toward the bed. “Right.”
He lifted Celeste carefully into his arms. She looked tiny. Breakable.
As Ethan carried her out, Maya on his heels, the air in the room shifted again.
The crisis had passed.
The consequences had not.
Kieran took a step toward . “Sera—”
I stepped back before he could reach .
“What happened?” I asked.
Hurt flashed in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by anger. “Gunnar,” he spat. “The Beta of Iron Hollow pack.”
The heat in my veins flared again. Good. A perpetrator. Soone to direct all this anger at.
Gunnar was escorted in monts later by the two sentinels at the door, wrists restrained, face pale and damp with sweat.
He looked between Kieran and like a man who had just realized he’d stepped into a war zone without armor.
“I swear,” he began imdiately. “I didn’t drug her.”
“Start talking,” I snarled, “before I pull out your tongue and stuff it down your throat.”
He swallowed, glancing at Kieran.
Kieran growled. “If you’re looking for rcy from , you’re looking in the wrong place.”
“I-I didn’t know who she was at first,” Gunnar began, his words stumbling over themselves. “She showed up at Colombo. She said she was stranded, claid she had been restricted, and that travel had been made difficult. She begged to join our delegation when she learned we were going to LA. We thought she was just another wolf trying to get back to the mainland.”
“When did you learn who she was?” Kieran asked, voice deathly cool.
“After we landed in L.A,” Gunnar answered. “She kept a low profile. But at one of the pre-festival gatherings, she was recognized.”
“By whom?” I asked.
He hesitated. “Vidar Skovgaard.”
Of-fucking-course.
“He spotted her among us,” Gunnar went on, words coming faster now. “Pulled aside later. Said she was...an opportunity.”
“Opportunity,” Kieran repeated flatly.
Gunnar shifted, his pulse quickening. “He said, you were troubled over your missing fiancé, so reuniting you two would be an excellent opportunity to gain your favor.”
The word ‘fiancé’ slid beneath my ribs like a blade, reminding that Kieran and Celeste had been loud about their reunion, but had never announced their breakup.
“And this is your idea of a reunion?” Kieran snarled.
Gunnar shook his head frantically. “No. No. I told her of the idea, and she was more than happy with it. She agreed to wait in this room for you. She was dressed appropriately and was completely lucid when I left her.”
“So what happened?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he spluttered, falling to his knees. “I swear I don’t know. I didn’t do anything to her.”
While he begged for his life, I let my senses brush against him.
No fracture in his intent. No spike of concealed triumph.
Only fear. Embarrassnt. A genuine belief that he had miscalculated socially rather than committed a cri.
“You’re not lying,” I grit out.
Gunnar sagged slightly in relief.
Kieran’s expression darkened further. “That doesn’t absolve you.”
His voice shifted into Alpha steel. “You’ll remain detained until we trace every movent from the airport to the hotel. Get him out of my sight."
The guards dragged Gunnar out, his protests muted by the closing doors.
Silence settled in the suite again.
I didn’t look at Kieran as I declared, “I’m going ho."
I walked toward the door without waiting for permission or protest.
I reached the threshold and paused.
The corridor beyond was dimr than the suite, the light softer, less accusing. For a second, I simply stood there, my hand resting on the doorknob, breath steadying.
Then I turned.
Kieran was still standing in the center of the room, shirt rumpled, jaw tight, the weight of what had happened still clinging to him like a second skin.
“Are you taking ho,” I asked evenly, “or what?”
***
The only sound in the car throughout the entire drive was the engine humming and the faint rush of air through the vents.
Every ti the car stopped at a light, I felt Kieran’s gaze flick toward and then away again, as if he were asuring the distance between us and deciding whether to cross it.
As soon as he cut the engine in my driveway, I opened the door and stepped out without looking back.
I heard his door open a second later.
Felt him behind as I walked to the front door.
The click of the lock disengaging sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet of the night.
I stepped inside.
He followed.
The door shut behind us with a soft, definitive sound that sealed the house in stillness.
For a mont, neither of us spoke.
The faint scent of lavender from the living room diffuser drifted through the air, cutting through the lingering tension clinging to my skin.
“Sera, I—”
I turned before he could finish.
I crossed the distance between us in three strides, grabbed the front of his shirt, and shoved him back against the wall.
And then I kissed him.
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