Semua Bab His Stolen Luna: Bab 11 - Bab 20

EllaLiam's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as he studied me. The intensity of his gaze made me want to crawl out of my skin. "I need your help," he finally said, his voice low and measured. "My help?" I couldn't keep the disbelief from my voice. "With what? Redecorating this mausoleum? Because I've got to tell you, all this dark wood is a bit much." His expression didn't change. Not even a hint of amusement. Tough crowd. "Look," I continued, "I appreciate the dramatic rescue back there. Really, I do. But I'm not sure what I could possibly offer someone like you. If you want information about my former pack, I'm not your girl. I won't put innocent people in danger." "Innocent?" Something dangerous flashed in his eyes. "They were ready to watch you die. None of them spoke up for you when you were wronged." "They just don't know the truth. They believe what Marcus and Ava told—" "They were going to execute you and your son without question," he cut me off, his voice sharp as a bl

Ella"Now?" I glanced down at my borrowed robe and pajamas, plucking at the silky material. "Give me twenty minutes." "Take thirty." He paused at the doorway. "And Ella?" "Yes?" "Try not to run around the halls in those pajamas again. Some of my guards aren't as... disciplined as I am." I watched him disappear through the doors, my cheeks burning from his last comment. The nerve of that man! First, he saves our lives, and then he has the audacity to comment about my pajamas. I hugged his robe tighter around me. My mind raced with questions. Why did he really save us? What could he possibly need my help with that required such dramatic intervention? The whole situation felt wrong. I had good results with my patients but nothing extraordinary, as he claimed. And why be so secretive about who needed help? I retreated to my bedroom, my bare feet silent against the cold marble floor. The enormous space felt empty without Jackson, but at least I knew he was safe and having fun. That t

EllaI glanced back at the patient, my mind racing through options I didn't have. "You're asking me to potentially unleash something that killed our people." "I'm asking you to heal a patient." His voice dropped lower. "The rest is my concern." I wanted to laugh at the absurdity. Yesterday, I was nearly executed; today, I was being strong-armed into treating public enemy number one. "Let me get this straight," I said, crossing my arms. "You want me to heal the creature that terrorized our pack for months? The same one that left children orphaned and mates widowed?" Liam's expression didn't change. "Yes." "Fantastic. And if I refuse, you'll what—throw me and my six-year-old back to the wolves?" I winced at my own poor choice of words. "Essentially." I ran my fingers through my tangled hair. "Some rescue this turned out to be." Liam stepped closer, his jaw tightening. "Let me get something straight with you, Ella. "You're not the first woman to claim a relationship with me." "I

Ella"What are you doing?" The words tumbled out, panic rising in my chest. "Our scents need to mingle," his fingers continued working down his shirt. "Scent marking requires skin contact," he stated matter-of-factly as if explaining something obvious to a child. "My pack will need to believe you belong to me." Liam's hands moved to his belt buckle. The metallic clink echoed in the quiet office as he unfastened it with practiced ease. His pants followed, sliding down powerful legs until he stood before me in nothing but black boxer briefs. He raised an eyebrow. "Your turn." I crossed my arms protectively over my chest. "Is this really necessary?" "Unless you want to raise suspicions about Jackson's identity." His voice was flat, matter-of-fact. "Clothing creates barriers. Skin contact is more effective." Logically, I knew he was right. Scent-marking worked best with direct contact. But logic didn't make this any less awkward. I took a deep breath and reached for the buttons of m

MarcusThe next few days passed in a blur of whiskey and rage. I didn't leave the house except for essential pack business. The walls that once held laughter now echoed with silence. At night, I'd find myself pausing outside Jackson's empty bedroom, my hand on the doorknob, before remembering he wasn't mine to check on anymore. Never had been. The kitchen felt wrong without Ella's humming, and the living room was too spacious without Jackson's toys scattered across the floor. I hated that I missed them. Hated myself more for still wanting what was never real. One night, I sat in my study, a half-empty bottle of whiskey keeping me company. The golden liquid burned pleasantly as it went down, numbing the edges of my thoughts. I'd lost count of how many glasses I'd had. Didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the blessed numbness that alcohol brought. I stared at the fireplace, watching flames dance and twist. The fire was honest. It didn't pretend to be something it wasn't. It didn't l