Chapter Fifteen

The bakery had gone quiet after the morning rush, sunlight spilling across the empty tables. Tessa was perched on a stool, sipping her coffee while Kaelani worked dough at the prep table.

“Every single one of these guys,” she announced, shoving her screen toward Kaelani, “has a fish. Why is holding a trout the new dick pic?”

Kaelani shrugged. “At least the fish doesn’t lie about being six inches.”

“STOP. Oh my God. I’d take a fish over this one—look.” Tessa held up her phone again. “He’s got a bathroom mirror selfie. Toilet in the background. And it’s…unflushed.”

Kaelani made a face, wiping her flour-dusted hands on her apron. “Romantic. Nothing says ‘date me’ like floaters in the shot.”

“Ugh, men are exhausting,” Tessa sighed, tossing her phone aside. “This one guy the other night tried to dirty-talk me, and you know what he came up with? ‘You like that big sausage?’”

Kaelani blinked. “Sausage?”

Tessa threw up her hands. “I swear, I almost asked him if he wanted me to wrap it in a bun and add mustard.”

Kaelani laughed, shaking her head. “Better a sausage than a remote, I guess.”

“Excuse me?”

“Didn’t you tell me one guy wanted to use the TV remote as a…toy?” Kaelani arched a brow.

“Oh my God, I forgot about that! Yeah, Captain N*****x-and-Chill thought volume up would, you know, turn me on.”

Kaelani smirked, deadpan. “Did it?”

“Girl. I faked a seizure to make him leave.”

Kaelani bent over the dough, laughter shaking her shoulders. “You’re going straight to hell.”

“I’ll save you a seat,” Tessa quipped, grinning wickedly.

The bell over the bakery door chimed.

“If that’s Mr. Remote guy,” Tessa muttered, still grinning, “I’m throwing myself into the oven.”

Kaelani turned, still smiling, ready with her usual greeting.

But the smile died right there on her lips.

Because the last man she ever expected to see here stepped inside.

Julian stood framed in the doorway, his gaze finding hers instantly. It locked on like a hand around her throat, tight and unyielding. For one wild second, Kaelani wondered if she’d slipped into another of those dreams—the ones that felt too real, the ones that left her trembling in her sheets. But no. The air here was too sharp, her pulse too loud. This was no dream.

Beside her, Tessa glanced between them, setting her coffee mug down without a sound. Her brows shot up, her mouth parting in a soft oh. After a beat, she cleared her throat, muttered something about checking the back, and slipped away through the storage room door.

And just like that, Kaelani was alone with him.

Him at the doorway. Her behind the counter. The space between them charged, humming like a live wire.

For a long moment, neither moved. Then Julian broke the stillness, striding to a table in the far corner. The chair scraped softly as he sat, his gaze falling to the surface in front of him. His hands pressed flat to the wood, fingers flexing once, then going still. Waiting.

Something was different. Stripped down. The crisp suits and polished armor were gone, replaced by a plain white tee and dark jeans.

Her fingers fumbled with the apron ties. She tugged them loose, set the cloth aside, and wiped her palms against her thighs. He hadn’t come all this way for a croissant. They both knew it.

Steeling herself with a breath she didn’t feel, she crossed the room. Each step landed too heavy, too loud, until she reached him. She pulled a chair back and lowered herself into the seat across from him.

That’s when his eyes lifted—slowly, deliberately—and found hers.

And for the first time, he looked at her. Really looked at her.

The sunlight poured through the bakery windows, catching the strands of her chestnut hair. It was woven into a long braid that trailed over her shoulder, a few loose wisps escaping to frame her face. Those stray pieces brushed her cheeks, softening the edges of a jaw too stubborn to bow to anyone.

Her eyes—Goddess, her eyes. Gray as storm clouds, magnetic and unflinching, pulling him in like a tide he had no hope of resisting. Her lips were full, flushed from biting them in thought, not painted into perfection.

She was fucking beautiful.

Not in the way Elara was, all polish and performance—makeup sculpted, hair smoothed to gloss, ensembles stitched in precision and expectation. Elara’s beauty demanded attention. Kaelani’s simply existed. Raw. Unforgiving. Impossible to ignore.

The kind of beauty that made his wolf ignite, fierce and insistent, as though it had been waiting for this moment.

Kaelani leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as if bracing herself. Her voice was steady, but there was an edge beneath it. “Your Beta already told you the results, I assume?”

“Yes.”

“I took two more myself,” she added, tone sharp as a blade. “Both negative. Just in case one wasn’t enough for you.”

For a beat, neither moved. Neither blinked. Then her hand moved to the collar of her shirt, tugging it down to bare the faint scar at the curve of her neck. “Your mark is gone. Just a scar left in its place. I can’t do anything about that, unfortunately.”

Julian’s gaze caught there, lingering a beat too long, jaw tightening. Deep inside, a dangerous growl pressed against his ribs. He forced it down, swallowing hard before dragging his eyes away. “Are you taking the suppressants?”

“I have them.”

“You need to start,” he pressed, voice dropping lower, harder. “Too many unmated males pass through here. If you slip into heat again—” his jaw ticked, “you don’t want to cause more…problems.”

The words struck like a blow. Kaelani’s spine went rigid, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”

Julian’s hand flexed against the table, every muscle in his body tensing. He had to hold himself back from arguing, but the wolf inside him snarled at her defiance.

“I will decide what’s best for me,” she said finally, her tone cutting with finality.

The bell above the door jingled, cutting through the thick silence between them. A pair of customers stepped in, chatting idly as they made their way toward the counter.

Kaelani stood, slipping her chair neatly beneath the table. “If that’s all, I have a business to run. I’m sure you can see yourself out.”

She didn’t wait for his response. She turned her back on him, slipping behind the counter with her apron already in hand, her voice warming as she greeted the newcomers.

Julian didn’t move at first. He sat there, watching the way she smiled for them—smiled easily, openly, in a way she hadn’t once for him.

Finally, he rose. As he moved toward the door, their eyes met one last time. The coldness in her gaze hit like ice in his veins.

That look stayed with him as he stepped outside.

The midday sun struck his face, hot and relentless, though all he felt was cold inside. His strides slowed as he crossed the street to his car, his mind circling the encounter.

He hadn’t known what he was expecting, coming here. But it hadn’t been that. The anger in her eyes—the brutal dismissal in the end—it was earned. Deserved.

He had handled it all wrong. After those nights, he’d laid the blame squarely at her feet, as if she had forced his rut, as if she hadn’t been just as caught in it as he was. He had treated her like a mistake to erase instead of a woman who had given him something no one else ever had.

And worse—she had been untouched before him. Innocent. He had taken her virginity. He knew it the moment it happened—the way her body struggled to take him, the pain and cries she tried her best to mask.

And in his rut-driven hunger, he had been incapable of gentleness. He had taken, devoured, and then cast her aside like she was nothing.

The realization lodged in his chest like a blade as he slid into the driver’s seat. She had every right to hate him.