His Stray

Chapter 21

Present Day

Celia slammed the pot into the sink, water splashing up her arms. Her jaw ached from how tightly she was clenching it. Her hands moved on instinct, scrubbing with a force the poor pot didn’t deserve. Usually, this helped her clear her head, but tonight it only seemed to stoke the restless irritation coiling in her chest.

She’d sent everyone home a little early, wanting the kitchen to herself so she could sort through her thoughts. Still stewing over earlier. Over Lucas. Over the warriors snickering like children. Over the way he barked at them, forcing them to help her like she was some helpless little thing.

Too little, too late. That was all she could think. Where had this protective streak been three years ago when he left without a word? When he’d shattered her heart and left her to gather the pieces on her own.

She scowled at the soap bubbles, scrubbing harder. But damn it, she couldn’t shake the look on his face when he left. That flash of raw hurt in his eyes. She hated that it still got to her, that she cared enough to notice.

The door creaked open. Her entire body went rigid. She didn’t have to turn to know who it was. The scent of sage and bergamot gave him away. Lucas.

He said nothing. Just moved past her, grabbed a rag and the disinfectant, and began wiping down the counters like it was any ordinary night.

Celia grit her teeth. She waited for him to say something. Anything. But the silence stretched on and on until it felt like it might swallow her. Every slosh of water, every scrape of steel wool on the pot was painfully loud. The quiet grated on her until she snapped.

She slammed the pot onto the counter, making him flinch. “Are you going to say something, or just skulk around here all night pretending nothing’s wrong?”

Lucas’s eyes snapped to her, bright with frustration. “What exactly do you want me to say, Celia?”

“I don’t know!” Her voice cracked. “Maybe something about earlier? About forcing those idiots to help me like I couldn’t handle it myself?”

“I was trying to help,” he shot back, voice low and rough. “I didn’t like how they were talking to you.”

“Oh, so now you care?” The words flew out, sharp and bitter. “Where was that three years ago when you left me to deal with this pack on my own?”

Lucas’s expression darkened. “That’s not fair.”

“Not fair?” She let out a hollow laugh. “What’s not fair is you got to run off to your fancy academy while I was stuck here cleaning up after everyone, pretending you hadn’t ripped my heart out.”

“You think it was easy for me?” His voice cracked. “Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“Then why did you?” she whispered, the words tearing free.

“Because I didn’t have a choice!” He dragged a hand through his hair, breath coming rough.

Celia looked away first, blinking hard to stop the sting of tears. “You had a choice. I knew you were going to the academy. You told me that much, but I thought we’d have a few more weeks. I thought you’d at least say goodbye. I thought we’d keep in touch. Letters. Calls.”

“Celia.” She heard him step closer.

“Then Mom died. And Dad had his heart attack right after. The doctor said it was the pain of losing a mate that caused it. I thought I was going to lose him too. I thought I was going to be completely alone. The only people who ever really loved me… gone.”

Hot tears slid down her face, but she refused to look at him. Refused to move.

“Celia, I’m so sorry.” He sighed. “I went about it all wrong. I know that. I hurt you, and I knew exactly what I was doing when I left.” He paused. “I wanted you to go. I wanted you to leave this pack and find people who would love you for you.”

“Why?” It came out on a sob.

“Because my dad had just told me I was going to be his heir. And I knew if you stayed…” His voice cracked again. Another step. She felt the heat of him at her back. “I told you I thought we were mates. And if you stayed, he was going to tear us apart. I was scared. I still am.”

“You should have told me,” she whispered. “We should have decided that together.”

He let out a shaky breath, close enough she felt it against her neck. “I’m sorry, Cece.” His hands settled lightly on her hips. “I’m sorry for everything. I didn’t know what else to do.” He leaned in, his forehead brushing the side of her head. “I still don’t.”

“What do you want, Luke?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“You.” He kissed the spot where her neck met her collarbone. “I want you.” His lips trailed up the side of her throat. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

She tried to resist, but it was too much. She leaned back into him, tilting her head to give him more. His hands slipped under her shirt, warm palms tracing her waist, pulling a shiver from her.

“I’ve missed this,” he breathed, rough and aching. His teeth scraped lightly against her ear. “Missed you.” He rocked his hips forward, letting her feel just how hard he was.

A soft moan slipped out before she could stop it. Lucas’s hands roamed up her stomach, thumbs brushing under her breasts, and she arched into his touch. He turned her just enough to catch her mouth in a fierce, hungry kiss. Every press of his lips, every stroke of his tongue was too much and not enough all at once. It was like the mate bond took every spark between them and set it on fire.

So lost in him, she didn’t hear the door until someone spoke.

“Well, well, well,” drawled Hendrix. “Is this what the academy teaches now? How to grope the kitchen help?”

Celia jerked away from Lucas like she’d been burned, breath coming fast. Hendrix leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smug grin spreading across his face.

“Get out, Hendrix,” Lucas growled, stepping forward so he was between them.

“Oh come on,” Hendrix laughed. “Don’t stop on my account. I’m sure dear old Dad will be real touched to hear you’re spending your free time balls-deep in your little stray witch instead of preparing to lead this pack.”

Celia’s stomach twisted. This was it. She braced for Lucas to backpedal, to stumble through excuses, but he didn’t. He took another step toward Hendrix, his whole body tight with anger.

“You’re so eager to run tattling to him? Go ahead,” Lucas snapped. “Tell him. And make sure you tell him I don’t give a s**t what he thinks anymore. I’m done letting him dictate my life.”

Hendrix’s brows shot up. He let out a low whistle. “Look at that. Finally growing a spine. We’ll see how long it lasts.”

“Get out,” Lucas bit out.

Hendrix gave one last cold grin before pushing off the doorframe. “Enjoy your stray while you can.” Then he sauntered off, whistling as he went.

When he was gone, the kitchen seemed too quiet. Celia gripped the sink, watching Lucas warily. She half-expected him to collapse under the weight of it all.

But he was still glaring at the door, fists clenched. Then he let out a long breath, shoulders dropping. When he turned to her, something in his face gentled.

“You alright?” he asked quietly.

She chewed her lip, studying him.

Lucas stepped closer. “Celia?”

“What if he tells your dad?” she whispered.

“Then he tells him. And if he doesn’t, I’ll tell him myself. I’ll announce I found my mate.”

Her eyes widened. “Is that… wise?”

He placed his hands on either side of the sink, leaning down until his forehead touched hers. “I’m not going to run this time. I want you. I want us. I know I’ve hurt you. I’ve been a coward. But I want to be better. I want to be the man you deserve.”

Her throat felt too tight to speak. Instead she reached up, wrapping her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. His arms came around her instantly, strong and warm, holding her close.

They stood like that for a long moment, tangled up together, and for the first time in years, a fragile hope fluttered to life in her chest.