บททั้งหมดของ His Mate, But Not His Luna: บทที่ 91 - บทที่ 100

Lysera“I want to cook my own food.” The words came out flat but liquid enough that the guard with me could hear.The guard didn’t even blink. He remained by the door, one shoulder resting against the frame, arms folded across his chest like I wasn’t worth the effort of a response. The door behind him stayed open, as Henry had instructed. No privacy. Just constant watching.I hated it. I wanted to be rid of this guard but for now, I had no choice than to put up with him. The maids that came might have kept their mouths shut and not looked at me with disgust but the same could not be said for the guard. “I said,” I continued, slower this time, “go and inform Henry that I will be preparing my own meals.”The guard turned his head slightly and looked at me. Not with curiosity but with disbelief like I had just said something incredibly stupid.Then he looked away again, completely dismissing me. Just like that.My fingers curled into my palms, nails digging into my skin as anger surged

LyseraThe moment I stepped into the kitchen, everything stopped.Movement, sound and breath. Everything.The maids froze where they stood, hands mid-task, eyes snapping toward me like I had just dragged death itself into the room.For a second, no one spoke. Then the murmuring began. Low, filled with shock and disbelief that I was in the kitchen. Again.“She’s here.”“How?”“Why would she be here? What does she want?”The head cook moved. She was a stout woman with thick arms and a stern face, flour dusted across her apron and hands. She stepped forward quickly, planting herself directly in my path like a wall.“You cannot be here,” she said firmly.I didn’t plan to stop walking but she didn’t move so I had to come to a stand still. We stood there for a brief second—me staring at her, her staring right back, unyielding.“Move.”The command didn’t come from me. It came from behind. The older guard stepped forward, his presence cutting through the tension like a blade.“The Alpha has g

Lysera“He is?” I grinned again. “If he truly were yours, you wouldn’t need to tell me. I’d already know.”“He’s mine!” she snapped, her voice sharp with barely contained aggression.My gaze dropped to her hands resting on her lap. They weren’t clenched.Oh.She wanted to hit me. But she wouldn’t. Not here. Not with guards in the room and servants passing through at any moment.I leaned back slightly, unbothered.“If he’s yours,” I continued smoothly, “then he wouldn’t be trying to touch me.”I let the words linger before adding, deliberately softer—“He wouldn’t be trying to make love to me.”I chose the words carefully. Let them sound intimate. Beautiful. Provoking.“He wouldn’t be so desperate to complete the mating ritual between us…” I arched slightly in my chair, tilting my head as my eyes drifted toward her neck in an exaggerated inspection. Then I clicked my tongue. “…when he hasn’t even marked you.”My gaze returned to her face.“You’ve been with him for years,” I added, my t

Author’s POVThe moment Henry stepped close enough to the bed. He was hit by a sweet scent.It was floral. Soft. Familiar. His body went still. It was the same scent he had always known. The same one that used to calm him, ground him, pull him back whenever his temper threatened to slip.Isyra.For years, that scent had been everything. His comfort.His home. His Choice.But now, it felt wrong and almost suffocating.It filled his lungs and sat there, heavy, doing nothing to soothe the restless thing clawing beneath his skin.Nothing to quiet the voice. Nothing to ease the hunger.His jaw tightened. Disgust flickered through him.Then it shifted. Because as he drew closer… the scent changed.Subtly. Not too much. It was still floral. Still soft. Still eerily similar.And yet, it wasn’t the same.There was something warmer beneath it. Something deeper. Something that didn’t sit on his skin but sank into him, curled around his chest, and tightened there.His breath slowed, then deepen

Author povThe words hung heavily between them. Enough to cut through the thick haze that had wrapped around them moments ago.Henry stilled. For a second—just one—something close to clarity flickered in his eyes.Then it hardened. His jaw clenched, the tension snapping back into place like armor he was desperate to put on.“Talk?” he repeated, his voice low, rough from behind the place placed softly against it. “Now you want to talk?”Lysera didn’t remove her hand from his mouth immediately. She held his gaze, steady despite the uneven rhythm of her breath, despite the way her chest was still rising too fast.“Yes,” she said finally, pulling her hand away slowly. “Before this gets any worse.”Henry let out a quiet, humorless breath.“Too late for that.” But he moved back just enough to put space between them again.Lysera was staring at him with an unreadable look in her eyes.“Fine. Talk.”“There need to be some ground rules if anything is going to happen between us.”“If anything?”