Chapter 6

ANNALISA

The heat consumed me like wildfire.

By the time we reached my bedroom, I was trembling with need, my skin too sensitive, every nerve ending alive with awareness of Antonio's presence. He'd barely closed the door before I turned to him, my hands finding the buttons of his shirt with a desperation I should have been ashamed of.

"Annalisa—" he started, his voice strained.

"Please." I looked up at him, knowing my eyes must be wild, my wolf too close to the surface. "Please, Antonio. This is what I asked for. What we agreed to."  

There was no need for me to pretend to be innocent or shy about it. This was an opportunity that has opened up for me. I'd better seize it because after this, nothing changes between Antonio and me, I would still be the woman he hated. 

At least if the moon goddess was kind, I would conceive this night. 

Something flickered in his expression—conflict, maybe, or uncertainty. But then my scent hit him fully, the sweet, intoxicating fragrance of a she-wolf in heat calling to her mate, and whatever resistance he'd been clinging to crumbled.

His hands found my waist, pulling me against him, and when his lips finally met mine, it felt like coming home and falling apart all at once.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asked, pulling away as I whined, frustrated that he was still talking at a time like this.

“Don't talk, just perform your duty.” I said as he hesitated for a moment, his hands tightening on my waist before he kissed me.

This was so much better than the previous times I had spent my heat…

***

I woke to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar windows and the warm weight of Antonio's arm across my waist. For a moment, I couldn't quite place where I was—this wasn't my small third-floor bedroom. The bed was larger, the sheets softer, the room filled with Antonio's scent.

His room. Our room, technically, though I'd never spent a single night here in two years of marriage.

Until now.

Memory flooded back—heat and hands and whispered words I wasn't sure were real or fever dreams. My body ached in ways that made my cheeks flush, marks scattered across my skin like proof that last night had actually happened.

"You're awake."

Antonio's voice was rough with sleep. I turned my head to find him already watching me, propped up on one elbow, his dark eyes impossible to read in the morning light.

"I—yes." My throat felt raw. "What time is it?"

"Early still." His hand moved to my face, fingers gentle as they traced the line of my jaw. The tenderness of the gesture made my breath catch. "How are you feeling? I wasn't too rough?"

The concern in his voice was unexpected, catching me off-guard. "I'm fine. I'm—" I swallowed hard, not knowing how to finish that sentence. I was sore and overwhelmed and trying desperately not to read too much into the way he was looking at me. "I'm okay."

Antonio nodded slowly, but he didn't move away. If anything, he seemed to settle closer, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. "You should rest today. Your heat will last at least another day or two." I couldn't believe that he was actually thinking about me, he was being very gentle to me, today, could it be he was having a change of heart, that he cared about me?

"I have work—the Moon Rite preparations—"

"Can wait." His tone left no room for argument. "Rest, Annalisa. That's an order from your Alpha."

Not your husband. Your Alpha.

The distinction shouldn't have stung, but it did.

By late afternoon, the worst of the heat had subsided enough for me to think clearly again. Antonio had stayed with me through most of it, leaving only briefly to handle pack business before returning to check on me with a diligence that felt almost husbandly.

Almost.

Now, as the fever faded, I found myself back in his bedroom—our bedroom, I supposed, for the next few weeks—laying out his clothes for the evening. It was something I'd seen other mated pairs do, this small domestic intimacy of choosing each other's outfits. I'd never had the chance before.

I selected a charcoal suit that brought out the warmth in his brown eyes, paired it with a deep blue shirt that complemented his complexion, and laid everything out on the bed with careful precision. Then I moved to his tie rack, running my fingers over the silk until I found one in a subtle pattern that pulled everything together.

"What are you doing?"

I spun around to find Antonio in the doorway, fresh from a shower, his hair still damp and a towel slung low around his hips. My mouth went dry at the sight of him, memories from the previous night flashing through my mind.

"I was—" I gestured helplessly at the clothes. "I thought I'd help you get ready for this evening."

"This evening?" He frowned, then understanding dawned. "The inter-pack education banquet. I'd forgotten that was tonight."

"If you don't want to go—"

"No, we should." He crossed to the bed, examining the outfit I'd chosen with an expression I couldn't quite read. "This is good. Thank you." He paused, then looked at me directly. "You're coming with me. If you're feeling well enough."

My heart stuttered. "You want me to come?"

"You're my wife." He said it simply, as if it were obvious. "The educators we met with will be there. Marcus Thorne specifically mentioned hoping to continue discussions with you. It makes sense for you to attend."

It makes sense. Not "I want you there" or "I'd like you by my side," but it makes sense. Still, it was more than I'd hoped for.

"I'll be ready," I promised.

Antonio nodded and headed toward his closet, leaving me standing there trying to contain the sudden burst of joy threatening to overflow. He wanted me to come. He'd acknowledged me as his wife in front of the pack business. This was what I'd asked for—to be treated as his real Luna, his real wife, even if just for a month.

Maybe—just maybe—some part of him was starting to see me differently.

I was practically dancing as I headed toward my old room to find something suitable to wear, a smile I couldn't suppress lighting up my face. For the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt almost happy.

"Well, look at that."

Antonio's voice stopped me mid-step. I turned to find him watching me from the bedroom doorway, still in just his towel, an expression of startled amusement on his face.

"What?" I asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"You were humming." The corner of his mouth quirked up. "And you looked about twelve years old just now, all excitement and joy."

Heat flooded my cheeks. "I did not—"

"You did." He crossed to me, and for once, there was no coldness in his expression, just something almost fond. "It's nice. Seeing you happy like that."

Before I could respond, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering for just a moment. "Buy yourself something nice to wear tonight. Something that makes you feel good. Don't—" He hesitated. "Don't wear the Luna attire."

The happiness drained out of me as quickly as it had appeared. The Luna attire. Of course. Those formal gowns hanging in the ceremonial closet, specially commissioned for pack events, all tailored to fit Christiana's taller, curvier figure. Another reminder that I'd never truly been meant for this role.

"Of course," I managed, keeping my voice steady. "That makes sense." Antonio frowned, clearly picking up on the shift in my mood, but before he could say anything, his phone rang.