Chapter 3

Vera’s POV

I curled my fingers tight in my palm, bracing. But Bellis spoke first: "The coronation is in three days. Robert said he'd take you to pick out a dress."

I froze for a second.

I'd almost forgotten the coronation was three days away.

Which was also the day I was leaving.

I had zero intention of showing up to the coronation, and I definitely didn't need a new dress. But I needed something to redirect Robert's attention away from my desk.

"Okay," I said immediately. "Let's go."

Seeing how quickly I agreed, as if I feared Robert might change his mind, a flicker of contempt crossed Bellis's eyes. Then she turned to Robert, putting on an innocent look. "See? I told you, Vera was just being stubborn before. Ask her again and she'll come."

Robert's expression softened. He reached out and tapped the tip of her nose, fond and easy.

The moment we walked into the boutique, Bellis lit up and started pulling dresses off the racks. The staff assumed she was the Luna being crowned and swarmed around her, talking up the season's newest arrivals.

Before long she had changed into a blue gown and was beaming. "Robert, what do you think?"

He smiled at her, warm and quiet, and nodded.

The entire afternoon was Bellis trying on dress after dress.

As we were finally leaving, she clapped a hand to her mouth as if she'd only just remembered. "Oh no — Robert! We came here for Vera. Why didn't you remind me?"

Then that same look — sweet, stricken, full of apology — turned toward me. "You're not mad, are you, Vera?"

The sales staff glanced over at me awkwardly, apparently only now realizing I was the one being crowned.

Robert blinked, about to say something.

I spoke first, mild as could be. "It's fine. You might need it soon enough anyway."

Because in three days, the mate bond between Robert and me would be gone — and I would be too.

Robert didn't understand what I meant. But something about my total lack of grievance left him oddly annoyed.

"Vera—" Bellis started.

Robert cut her off. "Let it go. She didn't want to pick anything — that's on her, not you."

He took Bellis's hand without hesitation and walked out the door.

I ignored the pitying looks from the staff and followed them to the car.

Back home, I went straight to my room, gathered every scattered sheet of paper from my desk, and locked it all in the drawer.

Then I started packing, going through things to throw away.

The next evening, I'd just booked a flight to London when a sharp knock rattled my door.

I took a breath and opened it.

"It's late, what do you—"

The rest of the sentence died. A warm, familiar scent closed around me, and Robert's hand found my jaw. He leaned down and kissed me — rough, insistent, taking everything.

He reeked of alcohol. He was drunk.

I stood there, stunned. His arm was already around my waist, walking me backward toward the bed.

We were fated mates. We'd completed the marking ceremony just days ago. His presence had a pull on me I couldn't fully fight — my body knew him too well.

His hand slid under the hem of my shirt. His rough, warm palms caressed my abdomen with affection, while heavy breathing lingered around my ears.

I felt weak all over, my head reeling. His scent of alcohol blurred my senses, and I kissed him back on impulse.

In my previous life, Countless moments like this had happened between us , and I responded to his kiss almost out of habit.

Then, low and barely there, he murmured a name.

"Bellis..."

Something cold crashed through me.