Chapter Eighteen – Boundaries

Ilia gasped, her hands on Caelan’s chest as she shoved him back with trembling force. His eyes snapped open, startled by the sudden break. The trees that had stood silent witnesses to their tension now seemed to lean in, waiting.

Her breath came in fast, shallow gulps. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, and her heart thundered in her chest.

"I can't," she whispered, voice hoarse with conflicted want. "You and I can never be."

Caelan froze. Confusion flickered across his face, quickly replaced by hurt.

Ilia stepped back, grounding herself even as her body screamed to return to his.

"You have a duty," she said, folding her arms tight like armor across her chest. "A Luna chosen by your council, bred for this world. I wasn’t supposed to see it, I know, but I did. I saw her—on her knees, mouth on you like she belonged there. Like she knew she did. And you didn’t stop her."

Caelan's brows furrowed. Shame crept up his neck, but he said nothing.

Ilia shook her head slowly, the betrayal twisting in her gut. "You let her put her hands on you," she said, voice trembling but sharp. "You stood there and let it happen. Maybe you thought I wouldn’t find out, or maybe you just didn’t care." She paused, breathing hard, eyes blazing with hurt. "But I’m not here to be used. I won’t be your escape. I’m not a game for you to play when duty becomes inconvenient."

Her voice cracked at the end, but she held firm. It took everything in her, but she managed to meet his gaze, even as his expression darkened with guilt and frustration.

"I don’t belong in your world," she continued, softer now. "Whatever this is—this bond, this pull—it’s a dream. It’s not real. And even if it was..." Her breath hitched. "You don’t get to want me only in secret."

She turned on her heel, walking away from him through the silver-lit trees, each step like a dagger in her chest.

Caelan stood still, jaw clenched, fists curled at his sides.

No one had ever walked away from him before.

No one had ever dared.

But Ilia had.

And he was utterly, dangerously smitten—like her defiance had etched itself into the marrow of his bones. She had told him no, stood unshaken before him, and now her absence clawed at the edges of his sanity like a hunger that wouldn’t quiet. He didn’t just want her. He ached for her—in soul, in mind, in every fiber of his being that had once known control.

"Ilia," he whispered into the night, her name the only truth he could cling to as she disappeared into the trees.

And the dream dissolved into darkness.

Ilia jolted awake, her chest heaving, a thin sheen of sweat slicking her brow. Her blankets tangled around her legs like chains as she gasped for breath, the echo of Caelan’s voice still vibrating in her bones. His touch haunted her skin, his eyes followed her into wakefulness.

She sat up in the quiet of her small room, moonlight casting slivers across the floor. She pressed a palm to her sternum, trying to quiet the storm inside her.

She couldn't do this—not again. Not with him. Not when her body betrayed her and her heart begged for something that could never be hers.

Needing a distraction, she reached for the book her friend had given her—the one on mythological creatures. Its leather cover was worn, its pages soft from time. She flipped through the chapters until she found it: the section on sirens.

There, hidden between tales of seduction and sorrow, was a passage she hadn’t noticed before. Her fingers hovered over the inked words as her eyes scanned the page:

"There was once a siren queen whose beauty was said to bring empires to their knees. Her voice could bend even the coldest heart, her presence a song of ruin and rapture. Feared by many, she fell in love with a Lycan warrior—an act considered blasphemy by both her kind and his. For that love, she was hunted. Slain by wolves and betrayed by her own people, her story became legend, a myth whispered in hushed tones where sea met blood and moonlight."

Ilia’s hands trembled as the book slipped to her lap. Her pulse raced. She wasn’t vain. She didn’t think herself special.

But the timing. The dreams. The way people responded when she hummed.

It couldn’t be.

Could it?