Page 78 of Moonlit Nights & Northern Lights
I turned to meet his eyes, finding myself suddenly trapped in their unfathomable blue-green depths. The lie had started as a performance, but something in his expression made the words feel weighted with unexpected truth.
“Exactly what I said,” I replied, silky soft. “I couldn’t process the idea of someone like you finding me attractive.”
“Right.” Rory snorted, but the sound lacked his usual confidence. His fingers twitched ever so slightly against mine, a subtle tremor that betrayed the storm beneath his carefully composed expression.
“It’s true,” I continued, squeezing his hand, lifting it off the table for effect. “I thank my lucky stars every night that I met you.”
The words hung between us, fragile and dangerous. Something shifted in Rory’s expression—a flicker of confusion, of vulnerability. His usual armor of sarcasm and bravado cracked just enough for me to glimpse what lay beneath.
And then I felt it—waves of sadness suddenly radiating from him, so potent they nearly took my breath away.
…nice fantasy…
The thought slipped through, crystal clear and achingly melancholic. It wasn’t embarrassment or discomfort at our charade—it was genuine sorrow. I couldn’t stand the desolation seeping out of him. Before I could think better of it, I found myself leaning closer, pressing a kiss to his temple.
His hair, soft against my lips, carried the clean scent of his shampoo. I lingered there a heartbeat too long, my own chest tightening with an emotion that felt eerily similar to what I was experiencing second-hand from him.
I wanted to tell him that someday, he would be loved just as fiercely as he deserved to be. That the right person would see him—truly see him—beyond the chaos and bravado. That someone would cherish every part of him, from his mischievous smile to his boundless energy to the vulnerability he tried so desperately to hide.
But then, the thought of another man’s lips pressed to his messy hair sent a vicious snap of jealousy through me, and I interlaced our fingers more forcefully. The possessiveness startled me—this sudden, primal urge to stake a claim on this person who drove me mad on a daily basis.
Irrational.
Ridiculous.
Yet, undeniable.
Rory drew his brows together, bewilderment seeping through our connection. His confusion brushed against my consciousness like fingertips against skin, only heightening my own disorientation at whatever was happening between us. His eyes searched mine, seeking answers I didn’t possess.
You and me both.
“That’s so lovely,” Isla said, breaking the moment with genuine warmth. “I’m so glad you’re happy in London, Rory.”
Her sincere comment earned her several sidelong glances from the other wolves, including her father, followed by some low rumblings.
A sharp, ringing sound cut through the dining room. Every head turned toward the head of the table, where Edina Thorne sat like a queen on her throne, Callum and Tariq on either side of her.
Edina rose slowly, her movement deliberate and graceful. The room fell into immediate silence.
“This evening is special,” she began, her voice carrying effortlessly across the table. “Tonight marks the beginning of our run-up to the spring equinox, when our pack will welcome many others from across Scotland to our ancestral lands.”
Her gaze swept the table before landing, with pointed deliberation, on Rory.
“And what a pleasure it is to have old friends join us for the occasion, eh?”
The word “friends” hung in the air. My hand squeezed Rory’s thigh beneath the table, anticipating an outburst that never came. Instead, he remained perfectly still, his face a careful mask.
“The equinox represents balance,” Edina continued. “A time when light and dark exist in perfect harmony. Perhaps it is also time for us to find such balance—to heal old wounds and forge new paths forward together.”
A murmured ripple of assent shot through the wolves, and Edina smiled at them all, before returning to her seat.
The rest of the meal passed with excruciating slowness. I finally managed to secure a few potatoes with the next meat course, a small victory in this carnivorous battlefield. Beside me, Rory maintained pleasant conversation with Alex and Isla, his voice carrying none of the tension I could feel vibrating through him.
I tried to focus on the conversations happening around me, catching fragments of dialogue from the wolves seated nearby. Interestingly, not all seemed enthusiastic about the impending pack gatherings. Whispered concerns about “territory disputes” and “the old ways” filtered through, suggesting discord beneath the unifiedfront.
Finally, mercifully, after a serving of coffee, the meal drew to a close, and Edina once again stood. “I will see you all in an hour for the run,” she announced, her eyes falling once again on Rory with unmistakable expectation.
The remaining wolves began to disperse as staff appeared silently to clear the table. I exhaled slowly, tension draining from my shoulders.Thank god.That was more than enough for one night. I needed space, silence, a moment to process everything. To recharge before whatever fresh hell awaited us next.
