Chapter 2：The Ghost Returns

[Sera's POV]

I'm not listening to Mira. Not really.

She's complaining about Kai forcing Liri to stay in the hospital for more tests when she barely has a scratch on her. "It's ridiculous," Mira says. "She's fine. But he won't hear it. I've been running around like crazy because he wants every possible scan done twice."

She pauses. Her voice drops. "The Elders met last night." She doesn't look at me when she says it. "They're backing him. They think he should dissolve the bond. For the pack's future."

My chest tightens. I nod at Mira without really listening, and she eventually drifts away.

Later, alone in the archive room, I try to focus on inventory logs. I can't.

I haven't seen Kai since Liri came back. Three days now.

The pack won't stop talking. When will he dissolve the bond with Sera? When will he make Liri Luna? How long until the prophesied heir is born?

I force myself not to listen. I think about the baby instead.

Maybe I did steal the Luna title. Maybe I stole Kai too, for a little while, except I didn't really steal anything. I only got his body. His heart was always with her.

But this baby?

The baby is innocent. The baby just arrived at the worst possible time.

I don't know if I should keep it. When I lose the Luna position — no, not when. It's just a question of how soon. What happens to this child then? Does it become a bastard?

And my wolf. Since Liri came back, my wolf has vanished completely. I've become wolfless.

I'm worthless now.

"What are you thinking about?"

Kai's voice makes me jump.

He's standing in the doorway. The air around him feels heavy, oppressive. Powerful. Dangerous. Perfect. He's wearing a black shirt with the top buttons undone, casual but devastating. This man, he has the kind of body and face that could destroy a thousand hearts without trying.

Kai walks toward me slowly, his boots silent against the stone. He stops close enough and reaches out his thumb catches on the edge of my jaw, tilting my face up.

I freeze, my breath hitching hard in my throat. Even now, that touch makes me feel warm. Safe. My body remembers him too well and I almost want to lean into it.

His eyes darken to the color of a midnight storm, tracking the sudden flutter of my pulse beneath his thumb. He leans in closer, his towering frame casting a massive, suffocating shadow over me.

His eyes darken. He leans closer.  His hand almost trembles.

His lips graze my ear. His breath hits my skin and my face burns.

For one traitorous second I let myself believe it means something. That he came here for me. That the three days of silence were him fighting the same thing clawing at me now. My hands ache to reach up and fasten themselves in his shirt, to keep him here, to make him stay just once without her name waiting on the other side of it.

For a fraction of a second, his hips press forward, a heavy, deliberate possessiveness pinning me against the edge of the table.

His eyes drop to my mouth, then lower, to the pulse beating wild in my throat.

Then, just as my heart threatens to burst out of my chest, he stops.

He pulls back, his hand dropping to his side.

The warmth disappears. He's cold again.

I remember the last time he touched me like this. The night before he left to search for her again. He had come into our bed like a man possessed, his hands gripping my hips with a bruising, desperate force, his mouth tearing at my throat. I had arched into him, weeping his name into the dark, stupidly believing that the fevered, breathless way his body claimed mine meant he was finally seeing me. Finally choosing me.

But the moment the storm broke, he was already gone. He had peeled himself away from my sweating skin without a word, pulling on his clothes in the dark, his mind already miles away.

With her.

It had always been her. The passion wasn't mine; it was just the overflow of his grief for someone else.

"You don't have a wolf."

"The pack needs a strong Luna."