CHAPTER 1

MIRA’S POV

I heard Declan’s voice first. Low and familiar. Exactly the kind of tone he had never used with me before.

Then I heard a moan and froze, because that moan was not my husband’s.

And it did not belong to a woman.

I was not supposed to be there, at this hour, because the pack function was still going on. I had made an excuse and left early, because I was tired of being invisible in a room full of people. But the pack house was quiet when I walked in. Too quiet, which was unusual.

Then I heard him. Faintly but unmistakably.

I followed the sound quietly, with my feet leaving my brain behind as it was slow to catch up. The door to the guest wing was not fully closed, leaving a small gap. An inch of light, but big enough for my eye to fit in and see things clearly.

I saw Dorian first.

Declan’s personal guard. The man who was always there, always around him, always in the background like an invisible furniture. I never really looked at him before, never spared him a glance. Until now.

Now he was on his knees.

Declan, my husband, my mate stood above him with his head tipped back and his eyes, closed. His fingers were tangled in Dorian’s hair and Dorian’s hands were on Declan’s hips. His mouth—

I stopped breathing and my hands began to shake.

Declan groaned deeply. A sound I had never heard him make in our three years of marriage. And Dorian answered back with a moan, which was unmistakable.

I saw Declan’s back stretch backwards, saw his jaw became slack and saw the clear pleasure on his face.

Pleasure he never once showed me.

My stomach turned upside down and my knees became weak, but I could not look away.

Declan pulled Dorian up and they kissed in a deep and hungry way. The exact kiss I had dreamed of getting from my own husband.

Dorian’s hands moved down Declan’s body, while Declan’s hands pulled off Dorian’s clothes.

Then they fell on the bed together.

I heard the mattress creak, heard Dorian’s chuckle which sounded so low and intimate and I heard Declan whisper something I could not understand.

Then I heard the quick slaps of skin against skin and my brain stopped working.

A man. My husband was with a man.

Three years. Three years of trying….over and over again.

The first year, I told myself that he was shy and reserved, because I could understand that some men took time to open up, so I would be patient. I would wait for him.

The second year, I had began to wonder, if it was me? Or was I not attractive enough for him? I changed my hair and changed my clothes. I began to wear things I thought he would like. But he never noticed me.

I tried touching his arm at dinner, but he pulled away every time. I tried kissing him before bed, but he always turns his head away from me. I tried waiting for him in our room wearing nothing but a see through silk lingerie, but he had walked in, looked at me and said that he had work to do.

Then he left.

I cried bitterly that night alone, in the dark and asked myself what was wrong with me.

Then the third year, I stopped trying and convinced myself he was just cold. Some men were cold, so it was not personal. He married me, did he not? He chose me.

That had to mean something. Even if it is small, it was still something.

So I threw my self fully into my role and played the perfect wife and perfect Luna. I smiled for the pack, managed his affairs and stood beside him at every event.

Everyone thought we were the perfect couple. But behind closed doors, I slept alone every night.

I had blamed myself for all of it. I had thought if I were prettier, if I were thinner, if I were funnier, if I tried harder, or if I were anyone other than who I was.

Maybe then he would touch me.

But now I knew that it was never about me.

He was never going to touch me, not because I was not enough, but because I was a woman. And he did not want women.

He wanted Dorian, his bodyguard. He had always wanted Dorian and I was just a cover up, a prop, a wife on paper to hide his real nature.

Three years of my life, wasted just like that. I covered my mouth with my hands, it was not to stop any scream, but just that my body did not know what else to do.

I wanted to throw the door open and scream at them. I wanted to demand answers.

But something stopped me. Was it pride? Fear or maybe I knew that once I opened that door, everything would change and I was not ready for that.

So I stepped back. Took one step…then another and walked away silently with my feelings under control and my heart beating so loudly I was sure someone could hear it. But no one did.

I reached my room and went inside, then I locked the door, slid down against it and sat on the floor.

The pain hit me on the chest like a fist.

I did not know whether to cry or scream or sit there in silence. Maybe all of them. Maybe none.

Then my phone rang. It was Zara, my best friend and I picked up.

“Mira?” Her voice was bright over the phone. Then it changed. “What is wrong? You sound strange.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out

“Mira.”

“I saw something,” I managed to croak. “Something that shook me to my bones.”

“What happened?”

I told her everything and when I finished, Zara was quiet for a long moment. Then she exploded.

“I suspected him.” Her voice shook with anger. “I suspected him all along. Something about him never settled with me.”

I said nothing. I just sat in silence, listening to her rant.

“Mira,” she said, after a moment of silence. “You need to divorce him quickly. This nonsense has gone long enough. It is time to leave that prick!”

Divorce him.

The words echoed in my head, but I did not answer. I just sat there on the cold floor with my back leaning against the door and said nothing at all.