51

I sink the last of my tequila as Mum finishes pinning up the final curl on the bun at the top of my head. My hair’s half-up, half-down—curls falling from the bun as the rest of it cascades down my back. As usual, it looks perfect. Because Mum did it. Fiona handled my makeup.

It’s simple. Just a little concealer, mascara, brow gel, and a subtle contour around my cheeks and jaw. They always make me feel like me—just an elevated, classier version.

“You just look so perfect,” they whisper at the same time.

They’ve done May and me in similar, but not identical, styles. We wear the same dress, but I’ve chosen black heels while she’s gone with bright green ones that match her emerald eyes.

“Are we done? I’m out of booze, and I’m guessing I’ll need more if I have to sit through picture time,” I snap, still salty that everyone keeps making decisions about my life without actually asking me.

“Yes, you may go. But you have fifteen minutes, then we’re taking photos!” Mum warns.

I roll my eyes and walk out. I don’t even glance at my reflection—I honestly don’t care. This whole thing’s turned into a circus, and I wish I hadn’t agreed to go in the first place.

I head straight to the kitchen and grab a fresh bottle of tequila, but before I can open it, Dad spins me around. He grins wide as his eyes sweep over me.

“You look beautiful, Baylee,” he says, spinning me like I’m still five.

“Thanks, Dad,” I grin, then pop the cap off and down a swig, enjoying the burn.

He groans and grabs a glass from behind me, shoving it into my hand. “You and your mother have the table manners of apes! Use a glass, for goodness’ sake!”

I laugh mid-sip and accidentally spit some tequila out. Swallowing too quickly, I choke and snort, just as Dad starts ranting about etiquette.

I finally stop coughing, only to let out a burp. His hands fly up in exasperation. “I swear your mother raised you to drink like a dog!”

It makes the whole thing funnier—especially with Ben behind him, mimicking every dramatic hand wave and expression. But just as I catch my breath, Caden walks in.

He freezes in the doorway. His eyes sweep over me—legs, chest, face—and then he gulps. His whole body tenses like he’s in physical pain.

He opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a low, desperate whine. Then he splutters and clears his throat.

I hide a smile with another sip of tequila. He may not let himself be with me, but I love that his body still wants me—just as much as mine wants him. The tension is thick, and it only gets hotter the longer he stares at me.

Ben raises an eyebrow, glancing between us. He smirks and leans in to whisper something to Caden before slipping out the back door.

Whatever he says sparks something. Caden grabs my hand, and immediately sparks shoot through me, landing deep in my core. His scent overwhelms me—stronger than usual. Then it hits me.

Arousal.

My mouth goes dry. My heart races. He’s finally giving in.

He drags me into the pantry, yanks the door shut, and pushes me against it. His forehead crashes against mine, our scents mixing thick in the air.

I hold my breath.

He growls. It’s pained and frustrated, full of longing. The kind of sound I’ve dreamed of.

Then his lips slam into mine.

My whole body lights up. His lips are softer than I imagined, and the kiss isn’t awkward at all—it’s effortless.

I melt into it. My fingers weave through his hair as his tongue meets mine. His taste, his touch, the feeling—it sends my soul into sweet, blissful euphoria.

His hands trail down my face, across my jaw, over my chest—cupping my breast and pressing gently. My heart stutters. My stomach flips. It’s everything I ever dreamed.

But then he rips away, breathless. He slams his fist into the door next to my head. I don’t even flinch.

“I want you, but I can’t have you! It’s killing me!” he cries out.

His forehead rests against mine again, and when our eyes meet, I see it all—pain, desire, anger. He’s unraveling. And if he just let go, it would all vanish.

“I’m so in love with you, but you’re just—it’s just—fuckkkkkkk!” he yells, slamming his fist into the shelf beside us. It cracks. Everything rattles.

But I can feel him now. All of him. The fear, the hesitation. He’s terrified. And I could fix it all—if he just let me in.

“Mum and Dad gave us permission to date! Why are you rejecting me when we could be together?” I gasp, still breathless.

“Because you’re too fucking young, Baylee! What if in ten years you regret getting together before the bond kicks in? What if you resent me? What if I ruin it by letting this happen now?” he snaps.

He steps back, away from me, and my skin aches from the loss of his touch. I can feel his fear crawl back in, hardening around him like armor.

“And there it is. Age. Fucking age,” I shout. “I grew up the day I sucked in my first life! I outgrew the adults when I killed an army with my voice! I do more than anyone else in this house—I kill, I protect, I educate myself! And you’re still using age as a fucking excuse? BULL. FUCKING. SHIT!”

His control shatters. He slams me back against the door again—but this time, he lifts me.

His lips crash into mine.

I groan into his mouth, my leg wrapping around his waist. His hand slides up my thigh and cups my ass. A moan escapes me as my arousal fills the air.

But then he growls, pulls away, and sets me down.

He drops to the floor, clutching his head in his arms. “This is too hard!” he yells, rocking where he sits, unraveling in front of me.

Guilt stabs at me. I hate seeing him like this. But I can’t soothe him if he won’t let me.

“I can’t fuck us up,” he whispers.

Then he looks up at me, eyes full of anguish. “NO! I refuse to fuck us up, Baylee! I can’t lose you forever because I’m too weak to say no now!”

My shoulders sag. He’s not budging. I swallow my disappointment.

“But that doesn’t mean I want some other male all over what’s mine,” he growls. “If he so much as puts one finger out of place tonight, my men will tell me—and I will kill him.”

I groan. “Seriously? All you care about is my date?”

The moment the word leaves my mouth, I regret it.

Caden growls, stands, and punches the wall. “It’s not a fucking date, Baylee! I swear, if he touches you—if he even sniffs you—I. WILL. KILL. HIM.”

His tone is calm. Too calm. It’s chilling.

This is that Caden. The one everyone fears. And they should.

Because this version of him? He doesn’t just kill—he erases bloodlines.

But what stuns me most is how much I love all versions of him. The terrifying one that makes grown men cower. The sweet brother and son. And my Caden—the one who always puts me first.

All three. I love them all.

And I don’t even flinch at his killing sprees. I understand them. They’re necessary. We’re hunted, and he’s our weapon.

“It’s a dance, not a date. He’s a friend. That’s all. He won’t step out of line,” I whisper.

Caden nods, pleased. I’m relieved. Tim may be annoying, but I don’t want him to die over something so stupid.

As Caden walks past me, he trails his fingers along mine. Then he leans down and kisses my temple.

“Just a little while longer, and I’ll never have to watch you walk away again.”

I close my eyes as he walks out. I gather myself, then follow.

Mum watches me closely, reading my aura. I take another sip of tequila and throw on my mask. No one from school will ever see me as anything but the future Luna. Definitely not some sappy teen crying over a boy.

“You heard that?” I ask. She nods sadly.

“You okay?” she asks softly.

I inhale, then smile. “I’m fine. I’m gonna have some fun.”

She grabs my hand as I walk past. “Make sure Tim knows not to touch you. Caden will make good on that promise.”

I roll my eyes. “Wow. No one has faith in me at all? I wouldn’t do that—no matter how sad or mad I get.”

I leave, heading into the hall. Dad’s already taking a million photos—May with Ryan, then with Caden, then with the kids. Finally, just one with Micky.

“Good, you’re here!” Dad says, grabbing my arm and yanking me to the stairs.

He starts snapping pictures of me, then shoves Caden beside me.

I freeze as everyone, including staff, stares. “Oh heavens, it’s like the Addams Family. Just smile, for fuck’s sake!” Mum yells, raising her camera.

Caden throws on a fake smile. He looks constipated.

I snort.

“What? I’m smiling!” he says defensively.

I burst out laughing. “You look constipated!”

He glares, then tickles me. I squeal, and he laughs, lifting me into the air. I giggle as he catches me, his grin wide. Mine matches it.

Then someone clears their throat. We settle down, but when we pose again, Caden keeps his arm around me. I rest my head on his chest.

Neither of us wants the moment to end.

Even as May and Ryan join us, even as the parents take pictures—he stays by my side.

“Okay, it’s Tim’s turn,” Fiona calls.

Caden freezes.

I glance at him, guilt gnawing. But he smiles, leans down, and kisses my forehead.

“I love you. Have some fun, okay?”

As he turns to leave, I grab his hand. “I love you too.”

He smiles, then retreats behind Dad as Fiona ushers Tim forward.

Tim hands me flowers. “You look good, Baylee.”

I frown, then glance at Mum. She rolls her eyes and hisses, “Say thank you.”

“Thanks. I didn’t get you anything. Want tequila?” I offer, deadpan.

Caden snorts from behind me.

“I think I’m okay. I want to remember tonight.”

The air chills. Caden’s aura crushes Tim like a vice.

I can’t help but smirk.

Tim reaches to put an arm around me, and I step away immediately. Caden growls low in his throat.

“Hands to yourself,” Caden snaps.

Tim raises his hands and backs off.

Dad fiddles with the camera, and Caden kicks him.

“Hurry it up, old man!”

“I’m not old—I’m a young, hip Alpha!” Dad retorts. I snort but look away quickly as he glares at me.

I wave them off. “You know what? This night’s already memorable enough. No one needs a picture.”

I grab my bottle, wink at Caden, and leave—ignoring everyone’s protests.