Celina’s POV
LUCIEN’S HAND is still warm against my stomach. Even after he pulls away, the imprint lingers—heavy, magnetic, impossible to ignore. His words echo in my head, circling like wolves scenting prey.
“I lost one mate to love. I won’t lose another by not fighting for her.”
I should move. I should say something sharp, something that pushes him back into that cold, untouchable fortress he lives in. Instead, I just sit there, my fingers fisting in the blanket, breathing him in like I’ve been starved for air.
He stands, his broad shoulders blocking out the faint moonlight spilling through the blinds. His gaze stays on me, and for a heartbeat, there’s no Alpha, no blackmail, no lies—just a man who looks like he’s one wrong step away from breaking.
And I hate him for it.
Hate him f
