Chapter Twenty-One

The sun had climbed higher by the time Kaelani finally left the house. The air was warm, the streets busy, the kind of ordinary noise that should’ve drowned out the thoughts still buzzing in her head. But Julian’s voice lingered — that low, careful tone from the morning call replaying like an itch she couldn’t scratch away.

Irritation was still humming under her skin when she reached the café — sharp and restless. She spotted Tessa waving her over from a table on the patio, two glasses of iced tea already sweating in the midday sun.

“Finally!” Tessa grinned as Kaelani slid into the seat across from her. “I already ordered the appetizers. Mozzarella sticks, garlic knots, and—” She paused mid-sentence, her smile faltering as her eyes zeroed in on Kaelani’s neck. “Oh no. Don’t tell me that rash is back. The one you had a few weeks ago?”

Kaelani’s hand went up automatically, brushing her hair forward to hide the bandage that she placed over the mark. “It’s nothing. Probably just an allergic reaction.”

“An allergic reaction doesn’t need its own first aid kit,” Tessa said dryly, nodding toward the edge of the bandage peeking out from under Kaelani’s hair. “You should see a doctor.”

“It’s fine,” Kaelani insisted, reaching for her iced tea. “It’ll go away.”

Tessa gave her a skeptical look, “You say that every time something weird happens to you.”

Kaelani forced a small smile, though her stomach twisted. Weird didn’t begin to cover it.

Tessa finally let the subject of Kaelani’s neck drop, reaching for her glass instead. “So,” she said, leaning back in her chair with a grin, “you up for a little shopping after this? I need a new dress for my date tonight.”

Kaelani blinked, caught off guard. “You have a date tonight? Anyone I’ve heard of?”

Tessa’s grin widened, mischief sparking in her eyes. “Jeff. From the mechanic shop. Newly divorced.”

Kaelani’s brow arched. “Jeff? Isn’t he a little old for you?”

“He’s thirty-four,” Tessa said with a shrug. “That’s, what—ten years? Not exactly ancient. Besides, age just means experience.”

Kaelani smirked, sipping her drink. “You’re not worried about being a rebound?”

“That’s the point,” Tessa shot back, lowering her voice with a conspiratorial smirk. “Men fresh out of long relationships go buck wild for new pussy. Especially young pussy. I’d bet money he’ll be eating my ass by eight-thirty.”

Kaelani choked on her tea, coughing hard enough to draw a few startled glances from nearby tables.

Tessa just laughed, completely unbothered. “You know what, Kae? We’re in our twenties. These are supposed to be the years we live—have fun, make bad decisions, and have all the wild sex we can before life starts throwing saggy tits and back pain at us. ’Cause once we finally settle down?” She snapped her fingers. “The thrill dies right along with it.”

Kaelani gave a faint shake of her head, lips curving just slightly. “That can’t be true for everyone. Surely there are people who still… desire their wife or husband. Even after years.”

Tessa snorted, waving her hand dismissively. “Sure, maybe there’s one in a billion married couples still going at it like rabbits.”

Kaelani laughed, though the sound came out softer than she intended—half amusement, half something wistful she couldn’t quite name.

Kaelani’s smile lingered faintly, but her gaze drifted past Tessa, unfocused. Mates. The word carried a weight she hadn’t thought about in years. She used to envy the Lycans for that—how easily they found the one person who was theirs by design. The bond between them wasn’t just affection or convenience; it was cosmic. Eternal. Even the ones who chose mates outside the fated bond still carried that invisible thread, that sense of belonging.

It was something she’d never have. Something she’d taught herself not to want.

“Earth to Kaelani,” Tessa’s voice cut through her thoughts, teasing and light. “You down to go shopping or no?”

Kaelani blinked, pulling herself back to the present. “Yeah,” she said finally, pushing a smile to her lips. “I’m down.”

After they had finished their lunch, the afternoon had ripened into a soft gold, spilling across the storefronts as they strolled down the sidewalk, shopping bags swinging from Tessa’s arms.

The streets buzzed with weekend ease — couples drifting between shops, children tugging at balloons, a busker’s guitar spilling slow, sweet notes into the breeze. Tessa was chatting about shoes, or maybe her date, Kaelani wasn’t sure. She let the words wash over her, the rhythm of them comforting in its own way.

But then Kaelani’s steps slowed when a splash of color in a boutique window caught her eye. A satin dress seemed to glow beneath the angled sunlight — a deep, smoldering red that whispered of sin and celebration all at once.

Its neckline dipped just enough to tease, the bodice sculpted to the shape of the body, the hem sweeping low in a way that promised every movement would look like a slow dance.

She stared at it longer than she meant to as her mind drifted back—years ago, standing in the shadows just outside her pack’s great hall. Laughter had spilled through the open windows, warm and taunting. She remembered the swirl of silk gowns, the scent of perfume, the sight of couples spinning under chandelier light. The annual mating ball.

The one she was never allowed to attend. She didn’t belong there. She didn’t have a wolf. She would only embarrass herself—at least, that’s what the matron of the orphanage had told her.

She’d pretended it didn’t matter, but it had carved something deep inside her—something that never quite healed. If she’d been allowed in, she thought, that’s the dress she would’ve chosen. The one she would’ve danced in with someone who looked at her like she was the only one in the room. Someone who was happy—just to be there with her.

“Okay, tell me I’m not crazy,” Tessa’s voice broke through the haze, snapping her back, bright and alive. “That dress is gorgeous. You should totally get it. Actually spend some of those big bucks on yourself for once.”

Kaelani blinked, forcing a laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And wear it where? The bakery?”

Tessa grinned, bumping her shoulder. “Hey, stranger things have happened. You never know who might walk in for a cupcake.”

Kaelani smiled, but it faded a little as she glanced back at the window, her reflection colliding with ghostly memories from a life she’d spent years trying to forget

By the time the afternoon faded to a honey-colored dusk, Tessa had gone home to get ready for her date, her laughter still echoing in Kaelani’s ears as they parted ways at the crosswalk.

Kaelani lingered. She wasn’t ready to go home yet — not to the silence, not to her own thoughts. She drifted through the small downtown stretch, stopping at a used bookstore tucked between a florist and a record shop. The scent of old pages and cedar polish wrapped around her as she wandered the aisles, letting her fingers trail over spines until one title caught her eye. A novel. Something about time and fate — anything to distract her from the steady thrum of sleepless nights.

When she stepped back onto the sidewalk, the streetlights were flickering on one by one, and the shops were beginning to close. The golden light had cooled to amber and gray. She walked aimlessly, the quiet settling over her shoulders like a shawl.

And then, she found herself there again.

The boutique window.

The red dress.

It glowed beneath the fading light, even more alluring now, like a living flame caught behind glass. She stopped, arms folding over her chest, studying it as if staring long enough might make it hurt less.

“Nice dress,” a voice said behind her, deep and smooth. “I think you’d look great in it.”

Kaelani froze. Her stomach flipped, though not in the way she wanted it to. Slowly, she turned.

Julian stood a few paces behind her, hands in his pockets, dressed in dark jeans and a charcoal shirt that clung to him just enough to betray the strength beneath. He looked almost casual — almost. There was always too much contained behind his stillness, like a storm in waiting.

Her brow arched. “Are you following me now?”

He gave a faint exhale that could’ve been a laugh. “Your website says that your bakery’s closed on Sundays.” His gaze didn’t waver. “So I stopped by your place, but you weren’t there. Your neighbor said you were probably out by the outlets.”

Her eyes narrowed. “So you hunted me down.”

“Found you,” he corrected softly.

Julian took a few slow steps closer, stopping just short of the line that would’ve made her flinch. “You blocked my number.” His voice was steady but edged.

Kaelani didn’t answer, didn’t blink, her expression unreadable.

“Why?” His voice dipped lower—not angry, not soft, just… searching.

That one word carried a weight that made her chest tighten, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. She turned on her heel and started walking down the sidewalk.

He followed, his footsteps steady behind her. “You want a ride home?”

“No.”

He tried again. “You hungry? We could—”

“Definitely not.”

He exhaled through his nose, half a frustrated laugh. “Can you just wait a second so we can talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she threw over her shoulder, not slowing her pace.

“I know you’re angry,” he said, the words rough-edged, strained. “And I know you’re hurt.”

That stopped her dead in her tracks, though she didn’t turn to face him.

Julian closed the distance a little but stayed behind her, his voice quieter when he spoke again. “You think it’s easy being me? My entire life’s been a goddamn expectation. Every damn thing I do is weighed, judged, decided before I even open my mouth. The Alpha’s heir. The one who has to make every right choice. Who to lead, who to trust, who to—” He cut himself off, swallowing the last word, fingers curling into fists. “You don’t get to just… do whatever the hell you want when you’re me.”

Kaelani shut her eyes for a beat, forcing the rush of heat in her chest back down where it belonged. When she opened them again, every trace of emotion was gone—buried beneath that cold, cutting composure she’d mastered too well.

“I’m sorry,” she said flatly, turning to face him at last. “But I don’t recall asking for your ‘I’m such an important person’ speech.”

Julian’s jaw tightened.

“You Alphas really do think so highly of yourselves, don’t you?” She went on, voice low but laced with venom. “Do you think you’re the first person to ever look at me like I was some kind of mistake?”

“I didn’t say—”

“Or some inconvenience that needed to be dealt with?” She cut in, stepping closer, her words sharper now, each one landing like a blow. “Because you’re not. But I didn’t fold into a little ball and cry over those assholes, and I sure as hell won’t for you.”

Julian’s mouth parted slightly, something flickering behind his eyes—guilt, pain, maybe both—but she didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“So,” she said, voice calm now, almost eerily composed. “You can just take a number…” Her gaze swept over him, cold and final. “And fuck off.”

She turned and walked away, the sound of her boots sharp against the concrete, each step pulling her farther from him.

Julian stood there, the weight of her words sinking deep, settling in the pit of his gut like lead. For the first time in years, he couldn’t find a single thing to say.