His Stray

Chapter 5

Present

Lucas stood there in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the door Celia had just run through. His heart was racing so fast it hurt. His wolf, Arlo, clawed at him from the inside, snarling with frustration.

Mate.

He dragged a hand down his face. His skin was hot, his mind buzzing. A part of him had expected this. He had even told her once that he thought they might be fated. But he had been so worried about everything else that came with coming home. His father, the pressure of being Alpha, the resentment simmering in Landon. He hadn’t prepared himself for her.

Celia.

Just her name twisted something tight and desperate in his chest.

He couldn’t stop seeing her eyes, bright blue like a cloudless summer day. The way they’d gone wide when their gazes met. The way her lips had parted, breath catching like she couldn’t get enough air. And then the way she’d run, hands shaking, eyes brimming with an emotion he hadn’t been fast enough to read.

He wanted to chase her. Every instinct screamed at him to.

But another voice in his head, smaller and beaten down by years of his father’s harsh lessons, told him to be careful. This wasn’t just any girl. This was his mate. And his mate was Celia. The same girl his father barely tolerated on pack land, the same girl half the pack still called a stray.

Lucas braced his hands on one of the stainless steel counters, dropping his head. His pulse thundered in his ears. He’d thought he was prepared to see her again. Maybe even apologize, try to awkwardly rebuild the friendship he’d thrown away.

But the Moon Goddess had decided something else for them.

Arlo growled again, sharp and impatient. Lucas clenched his jaw. He would have to tread carefully. Celia had already looked terrified. Or heartbroken. Probably both.

He pushed off the counter, running a hand through his hair and forcing himself to take a slow breath.

This was not how he imagined finding his mate. Not with everything so tangled and broken before they’d even begun.

But she was his. He felt it in every bone, every breath. Part of him had known it since they were kids, since the night she’d wrapped her arms around his cold, shaking shoulders and hugged him like no one else ever had. No matter how complicated things were with his father, the pack, or the life he was supposed to lead, there was no part of him willing to let her go.

With a heavy sigh, Lucas grabbed the bottle of disinfectant from the floor and picked up the rag from the island. He started wiping down the counters, moving on pure muscle memory. So many times he had sneaked into this kitchen to see Celia. Lenore used to save him bits of dessert, sweets his father never allowed. He and Celia would share cake or pie, then clean up together to old music her mother loved. Three years away, and he still remembered all the closing duties. He finished them slowly, so Celia wouldn’t have to come back to one more mess he’d left behind.

When he was done, Lucas turned off the music and flipped off the lights, slipping out the kitchen door. The air was surprisingly cold for the end of April. He crossed the field toward the dilapidated house near the woods, the groundskeeper’s quarters where Celia had grown up.

He stopped under her window, heart pounding. Was he really going to do this?

Of course he was. He already knew as he pressed his hand to the window frame right where the latch was on the other side. Two solid knocks and the lock popped free, a trick he’d learned years ago. Part of him hated how easy it still was, how anyone could get in. But part of him was pleased that his way to her was still open.

Lucas pushed the window up and swung inside. He forgot about the chest under the window and banged his knee, letting out a hard grunt as he toppled to the floor.

Footsteps sounded immediately. He was still sprawled on his back, blinking at the ceiling, when the door flew open and the light snapped on. The powerful scent of orange blossoms washed over him, making his heart flutter.

“Luke?”

His name on her lips was like a balm he hadn’t realized he needed. Her honey-blonde hair was still up in a messy bun, her cheeks flushed red, blue eyes wide in the light. His chest squeezed painfully.

“What was it?” a familiar voice called. Harold appeared in the doorway behind Celia. Lucas tried not to flinch. The old groundskeeper hadn’t aged well. His face was lined, his jowls sagging, the last of his gray hair thin and brittle.

Harold frowned at Lucas on the floor. “Ain’t even been back six hours and already sneaking in again.” He shook his head. “Suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I… I…” Lucas floundered, no idea how to explain himself. This was not how he’d pictured this going.

Harold held up a hand. “I’m not stupid. You’re both adults, so whatever’s happening, I don’t need to know.” He turned to Celia. “Tomorrow, I’ll get a new lock for your door. Please use it. I’m not keen on walking in on the two of you again.”

Celia’s face flamed scarlet. Lucas bit his lip to keep from laughing. Harold turned and pulled the door shut behind him.

Lucas sat up, grinning. “I’m not too keen on him walking in again either.”

She rolled her eyes. “Remember the last time?”

He grinned wider. “When we were both naked, and he came at me with a shoe, threatening to crush my balls like walnuts? Yeah, hard to forget.”

She laughed, a sound that filled him with something warm and aching. “Yeah, that would be the time.”

Lucas chuckled, though at the time he’d been terrified. He’d bolted out the window and ran naked back to the pack house, only to get caught by Landon on the stairs. Landon hadn’t let him live it down for weeks.

He got to his feet, but the smile faded when he saw Celia’s face.

“Why are you here?” she whispered.

“You ran from me,” he said, raking a hand through his hair.

She raised an eyebrow. “I think you ran first.”

That one hurt, but it was true.

“Celia,” he sighed, looking around her room as though the words he needed might be written somewhere on the walls. This place had been his refuge as a boy, his escape. Now he had no idea what to say.

“Lucas,” she prompted softly.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he managed. His eyes found hers, those beautiful blue eyes he’d missed so much.

“By leaving without so much as a goodbye?” Her voice broke. “One night we’re lying under the stars, you’re swearing we’ll be mates in a year, and the next day, you’re gone. No explanation.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and it gutted him. He wanted to cross the room, to pull her close and kiss every bit of pain from her face.

“I was right,” he whispered. “We are mates.”

She shook her head. “Fate is cruel, I guess.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Really, Luke?” She stared at him for a long moment. “You’re the alpha heir. Which, by the way, you never bothered to tell me before you left.”

He flinched. He hadn’t told her. Hadn’t wanted to face what that might mean.

“You’ll lead this pack someday. Probably soon. And your mate will be Luna. You think this pack would ever accept me as Luna?” She scoffed, eyes glittering. “I’m still the stray to them.”

“It would show them you belong,” he said fiercely. “That you always have.”

She shook her head. “And your father? What’s he going to say?”

Lucas’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. He looked away, jaw tight.

“Exactly.” Her voice softened, but it cut deeper. “You should go, Lucas.”

He turned back to her, throat thick. “Celia…”

“Please.” Her eyes shimmered, pleading. “Just go.”

Reluctantly, he nodded. He climbed out the window without another word, his heart cracking with every step. As he walked back across the field to the pack house, one vow rang through him, louder even than his wolf’s growl.

He wasn’t going to lose her again.