Chapter 3

Killian & Elena

Killian

As I stared down at the small portrait in my hands, my anger only grew in its magnitude.

How dare she? How dare Elena go to such a length as to knock Natalie’s portrait off the wall on the anniversary of her death?

Natalie wasn’t just my first love and late fiancee—she was Elena’s sister. Adoptive, of course, but they had grown up together nonetheless, and Natalie had saved our pack from the rogues, sacrificing her own life in the process.

She was a hero. Everyone loved her.

Everyone except Elena, for some reason.

When Elena stormed out of the bedroom, I’d gone after her to make sure there wasn’t something wrong with her health after the fainting spell she’d apparently had. I didn’t love my mate, but that didn’t mean I wanted anything bad to happen to her or to see her suffer.

But then I saw her knocking down Natalie’s portrait in a fit of anger, and my concern turned into frustration.

I ran my thumb across the portrait, brushing it along the soft jawline and proud brow of the woman I once loved—the woman I still loved, even though she had been dead for three years.

Her green eyes seemed to stare back at me, her chin lifting as if to silently judge me. “Why her?” her portrait seemed to ask. “Why must my sister be your fated mate? Why must I be dead?”

Of course, I didn’t know the answers to any of those questions. Fate works in strange ways, and I had no control over who I was fated to. And none of us could have known that the rogues, notorious for being scattered and without one single leader, would somehow band together and attack Waning Moon Pack.

But they had. And Elena was my mate. And despite my grief following Elena’s death, I was still a man of duty—one who understood that an Alpha requires a Luna, and if I were to ignore my fated mate bond with Elena, no one would trust me enough to take my place as the leader of the pack.

So I did what I had to do, and I married her, and life went on.

I thought Elena had moved on, too; I thought she had put her dislike for her adoptive sister behind her and still missed her as much as I did at the end of the day.

But now, I wondered, was it jealousy that drove her to knock down the portrait? Or something else?

My brow furrowed as I replayed her words in my mind. Not just her words, but her entire attitude. Something seemed… different about her. She never spoke to me like that, never looked at me with so much fire in those strange, red eyes that didn’t look like anyone else’s in the entire pack.

Sighing, I set aside Natalie’s portrait and rubbed my hands over my face. I didn’t want to think about this any longer. Today was the third anniversary of Natalie’s death, and I still had to lead the memorial ceremony.

I shouldn’t be wasting my thoughts on Elena.

…

Elena

Maeve didn’t understand what had come over me, but when I told her in private that I intended to divorce Killian, she supported me wholeheartedly.

“Elena, I knew you were unhappy with him,” she said, taking my hands in hers and giving them a squeeze. “Being Luna isn’t worth being miserable, in my opinion.”

I laughed wryly as I stroked my thumbs across the back of her hands, almost afraid that if I let go, my friend might die again. Being miserable was putting it lightly. If only she knew that, in another life, we both died because of him and Natalie.

But for now, I pushed those thoughts aside and forced a tight smile. “It’s going to be a big change,” I said softly. “And I can’t promise I’ll be able to hire you if I leave here. But wherever I go after this—”

“I’ll go with you,” Maeve said, her green eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and I knew she meant it. She wasn’t just a maid. Maeve had been my steadfast friend for years, sometimes to a fault, and I knew she would follow me to the ends of the earth.

Holding back tears of my own, I pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and then stood. “I’m going to go to the bedroom by myself for a while so I can pack my things and start planning.”

Maeve nodded, and I hurried to my bedroom, grateful that Killian would be leaving soon for his precious memorial service. It would give me time to pack without him hovering over me, judging me for everything.

The very first thing I did was strip off that awful black dress and put on something more comfortable: a simple sweater and pants. Not that anything I had in my closet looked halfway decent or even fit me, I quickly realized.

I hadn’t noticed in my past life, maybe because I was too busy fawning over Killian during every waking moment. But the clothes I had—all clothes he bought me, since I had no money of my own, an orphan taken in by my father’s friend—were really more suited for Natalie than I.

My jaw clenched of its own accord as I rifled through the closet, pulling things out and tossing them in a pile on the floor. Goddess, half of the garments weren’t even my size, but rather Natalie’s size; Killian had gone off of the sizing on the clothes that were left behind by her when she passed and had never bothered to ask for my measurements, and I was too damn meek to tell him the truth.

Dress after dress was discarded on the floor—some in drab colors and cuts, others too big for my narrow frame or too tight across my ample bosom, and some too old and worn to be of much use.

And then came the lingerie.

Goddess, the lingerie.

Lacy negligees. Silky little numbers that barely covered anything and weren’t even comfortable to sleep in. Bras that just hurt my back instead of providing support. Thongs that were nothing more than a string.

I wrinkled my nose as I held one such pair of panties up, then tossed it in the pile to be donated. I wouldn’t need any of this stuff when I left, and I didn’t want to leave a trace of myself in this house. I had only worn these things out of desperation, anyway, as if Killian would ever love me half as much as he loved Natalie. It was laughable how badly I wanted his attention in my past life.

Well, he could have her and buy her all the pretty lingerie she wanted once she came back. By then, I’d be long gone.

Just as I was holding up another bra and panty set, the door swung open again. I turned to see Killian entering, and his eyes went straight to the lingerie in my hands. My face reddened no matter how little I was attracted to him right now, and for a moment, he just stared, jaw clenching and unclenching.

For a split second, the small part of me that secretly still wanted his affection felt a twinge of excitement as he stared at me holding that lingerie. For a moment, I thought he might finally cross the space between us and kiss me and make love to me.

But he just reacted with anger. In typical Killian fashion, he stormed over and ripped the lingerie out of my hands, then waved it in my face.

“First you knock her picture down, and now you’re trying to seduce me?” he huffed, throwing the lingerie on the floor. “On her death anniversary, no less? You know, if the roles were switched, she would have understood the importance of today and wouldn’t have trod all over your grave like you’re doing right now.”

That was utter bullshit, of course. Natalie always hated me because I ruined her perfect little family by being taken in by her father as a child.

But I didn’t say that. Instead, I ignored Killian and picked up the lingerie, then calmly walked over to the trash bin. I held his gaze as I dropped it into the basket.

Killian just stared at me some more with his mouth hanging open.