Chapter 8
Iris
The kiss is warm, familiar, and entirely consuming.
And for a brief, fleeting moment, I nearly fall into the abyss of it all–the way his lips mold so perfectly to mine, the press of his
hands against my waist in the spots where they once fit like puzzle pieces, the rough thrust of his tongue onto my mouth.
He knows my body better than anyone else. Better than me, even, He can play me like a fiddle, plucking the strings in all the right
places to get the perfect melody out of me.
Arthur’s hands skim across my sides, finding all the spots that used to set me on fire. He knows what he’s doing, and he’s doing it
damn well.
And for this split second, I let it happen. The memories of what we once shared threaten to drown me. We are fated mates, after
all, bound by something primal and unyielding. Once upon a time, we were lovers who dreamed of forever, who whispered of a
future filled with love.
But that was before. Before his betrayal. Before the walls I’ve since built around my heart hardened into steel.
Before now.
Suddenly, reality pierces through the haze of heat and longing. Just beyond the alley, I can hear the chatter of people walking by. My colleagues are probably packing up by now after a long day at the gallery.
The juxtaposition of what we once had and what we are now hits me with devastating clarity.
We’re fated mates, and yet here we are, hidden in an alley like criminals, engaging in something sordid and forbidden.
This isn’t love. This isn’t redemption. This is desperation, anger, and lust tangled together.
Before it can go further, I press my hands into his chest and shove him back. It doesn’t do much, because he’s a werewolf and I’m not and therefore he’s far stronger physically than I could ever be, but he pulls back just enough to meet my gaze.
“Stop,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Behave yourself, Arthur.”
His green eyes glint with something dark and frustrated. “Behave myself?” he repeats, his voice low and dangerous. “You can’t deny it, Iris. I can smell your arousal. Stop lying to yourself.”
My stomach twists at his words. Of course, he would use that against me. Of course, he would reduce everything that I feel, everything that he did to me five years ago, to nothing more than a reaction of our bodies.
Maybe he knew that when he kissed me. He thinks he can manipulate me now, use the fated mate bond to his advantage, but it won’t work. I’m different now than I was before.
“You’re insufferable,” I spit out, giving his chest another shove. This time, he takes a single staggering step backwards, giving
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me just enough space to wriggle away and put more distance between us.
But Arthur closes the distance once more in two long strides. His towering frame looms over me, his shadow casting long across the bricks. His lip curls, revealing gleaming white fangs, the same fangs that used to make me shiver whenever they grazed my
skin.
But I don’t cower or shiver or give in to his tactics. Because, like I said, I’m different now. And I know what he is now: a
manipulative, lying prick.
I hold my chin high.
“Come back to
your price.”
“he says, although his tone isn’t genuine. He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out his wallet. “Name
I stare at him in incredulity as he rifles through his wallet for a rather sizable stack of cash. We were well off before, as Arthur is from a wealthy family, but handing out cash like candy? Arthur was never so arrogant.
“I don’t need your money,” I blurt out, the words like venom.
He hesitates, his green eyes flicking up to me. “Why not?”
His words, so simple and yet so loaded, send another jab of pain through my chest. So this is what he thinks of me, still, after all
this time. He thinks I’m a gold digger, just like his fiancee said. “Do you think I’m that desperate for money?” I scoff.
“Aren’t you?”
I want to slap him, but I don’t. Instead, I lift my chin a little higher and say, “Regardless of what you seem to think, Arthur, I’m living a perfectly happy life. I have a beautiful family, and a thriving art career. I’m content without your money.”
Arthur’s eyes narrow, a flash of something unreadable crossing his face. But I’m not finished. After what he did to me, I want to
twist the knife just a little bit deeper.
“And what about you, Alpha President?” I hiss, my breath spraying hot across his neck as I dip my voice to a near whisper. “Are you content? Or should I offer you to be my mistress instead?”
That seems to strike a nerve. Something low and dangerous rumbles in Arthur’s throat, and he slams his palm into the wall above my head. His chest heaves, nostrils flare, eyes begin to glow that unnatural werewolf green that I once only saw whenever I made
him climax in our old bed
“You really are heartless,” he growls before pulling away and storming off.
Only once he’s out of sight do I let out a breath. I clutch at the small heart–shaped locket around my neck, confused. Me? I’m the heartless one? He’s the one who thought he could use me as his human mistress, a gold digger unworthy of being his queen.
But it’s no matter. He’s gone now, and I hope I won’t see him again.
Back in the car, Emily and Evan are buckled into their car seats, swinging their legs. I try to maintain an illusion of calm as I climb into the passenger seat, although Brian notices my expression immediately.
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“Everything okay?” Brian asks quietly, keeping his voice low so as not to alert the children.
I nod, although the motion is stiff and disingenuous. Suddenly, my phone buzzes, and I pull it out to see that it’s a FaceTime call
from the babysitter back in Bo’Arrocan. I swipe to answer. I can’t help but smile when I see my son’s scrunched up face shoved into the camera, taking up the entire screen.
“Mommy!” Miles‘ tiny voice cries out, so loud that it blares through the speakers.
“You have to hold the phone further away, kiddo,” the babysitter laughs in the background. The phone zooms out, and I can see my son’s big smile, his dark hair mussed and his big green eyes wide with excitement.
“Hey, bud,” I say with a genuine smile. “Say hi to Uncle Brian and your cousins,”
“Hiii!” Miles beams, to which Brian, Emily, and Evan echo in a chorus. “I miss you, Mommy.”
His words make my chest tighten a little. I wanted to bring Miles with me to Ordan, I really did, but I just can’t bring myself to
take him here. I told myself that it was just because I would be busy and wouldn’t be able to care for him, but I know that’s not
really the case.
I don’t want him to meet Arthur.
Ever since I left Ordan, I only ever viewed Miles as my child. Not Arthur’s. He wasn’t there during all of the important parts, and
he never will be. I didn’t want Miles‘ spirit to be crushed by a father who only values Alpha werewolves, who will only ever think
of him as the half–blood son of a gold digger.
And I plan to keep it that way.
“When are you coming home?” Miles asks, cocking his head in that adorable way that he picked up from the twins.
I take a deep breath, brushing my fingers once more across the small locket at my throat–the locket that holds a picture of him.
“Soon, my little wolf,” I say, hoping he won’t see the tears shining in my eyes. “I’ll be home soon.
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