Chapter 13 – The Kiss That Changes Everything
1347 Words
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 for making me care.
“Rest,” he says finally, his voice rougher than I’ve ever heard it.
I don’t answer.
He turns toward the door, and the moment he steps out, I’m already shaking. Not because I’m scared. Because I’m… something else. Something I don’t have a name for.
There’s a low rumble from the hallway. It’s not human—it’s a wolf’s warning, deep and primal. My head snaps toward the sound.
Rhys.
Even without seeing him, I know that growl anywhere.
I hear Lucien’s voice next, cool and commanding. Then Rhys’s, sharp and accusing. Their tones rise, the tension bleeding into the air like static before a storm.
I strain to hear, my pulse kicking up, and then the sound sharpens—wolves snarling. My wolf stirs inside me, restless, answering the challenge.
A beat later, silence. The kind of silence that means one of them just pulled rank. And with Lucien, there’s no question who that would be.
When Lucien walks back into the doorway, his eyes are darker, edged with the dangerous burn of his Alpha power. He doesn’t say anything—just watches me like I’m the answer to a question he’s been asking for years. Then, without a word, he closes the distance between us.
My heart stutters.
“Lucien—”
He doesn’t let me finish.
His hand cups my jaw, fingers threading into my hair. His mouth comes down on mine, slow and deliberate. Not the claiming kiss of an Alpha marking territory, not the desperate collision of two people who’ve been denying themselves too long—this is something else entirely.
It’s an unraveling.
Every wall I’ve built between us crumbles under the weight of it. My hands clutch at his shirt, and the world narrows to the heat of his lips, the steady pressure, the faint shiver that runs through him when I kiss him back.
I don’t know who moves first, but suddenly he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, one arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him. His breath is ragged, his forehead resting against mine.
“Celina,” he murmurs, like my name is both a warning and a prayer.
I should push him away. I should remind him of every cruel thing he’s done, every reason why I swore I’d never let him touch me again. But his scent is everywhere—cedar and rain and that intoxicating undercurrent that belongs only to him.
And I’m so tired of pretending I don’t want this.
I kiss him again, slower this time, tasting the restraint in the way his fingers tighten on my hip. It’s different—no games, no power plays. Just truth, raw and dangerous.
When we finally pull apart, I’m breathless.
Lucien’s gaze drops to my lips, then back to my eyes. “You terrify me,” he admits quietly. “Because you make me want things I swore I’d buried.”
Before I can respond, there’s movement in the doorway. My chest tightens.
Rhys.
He stands there, still as stone, his jaw tight. His eyes meet mine for a fraction of a second, and I swear I see every emotion he’s trying to hide. But he doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t demand an explanation.
Instead, he turns on his heel and walks away.
Lucien doesn’t follow him. He just studies me like I’m the only thing in the room that matters.
That night, after Lucien leaves, I can’t sleep. My mind keeps replaying the way Rhys looked at me, the way Lucien’s voice trembled when he said I scared him.
It’s almost midnight when I hear the soft knock.
“Come in,” I call, already knowing who it is.
Rhys steps inside, closing the door behind him. He doesn’t come closer, just stands there, hands shoved in his pockets.
“What happened earlier…” His voice trails off, and for the first time, I see the strain in his posture. “I won’t compete with him.”
My throat tightens. “Rhys—”
“I mean it.” He finally meets my gaze, and it’s like a punch to the chest. “If you choose him… I’ll respect that. I’ll love you from a distance, but I won’t fight for something you don’t want.”
My wolf whimpers inside me, torn.
He takes a step back, his expression shuttered. “Just… don’t let him break you.”
Before I can answer, he’s gone.
That night, my dreams are restless.
I’m running through the woods, the scent of smoke heavy in the air. My lungs burn, my legs ache, but I keep going because I hear it—crying. A baby’s cry, thin and desperate.
I burst into a clearing, and there’s fire everywhere.
In the center, someone’s holding the baby.
For a moment, I think it’s Lucien. The same height, the same broad shoulders, the same eyes—burning gold. But when he turns toward me, there’s something different. Something darker.
The flames rise higher, swallowing everything. And then he smiles.
I wake with a gasp, sweat slicking my skin. The echo of that smile stays with me, even as I press a hand to my still-flat belly.
Somehow, I know—it was a warning.
Lucien’s POV
THE DOOR clicked shut behind me, and I stood there for a moment in the dimly lit corridor, trying to breathe past the knot in my chest. The scent of antiseptic clung to my nostrils, masking—but not erasing—the softer scent that clung to my skin from being near her.
I’d barely taken three steps before a shadow detached from the far wall. Rhys.
His arms were crossed, his jaw tight, eyes sharp with the kind of challenge that would’ve had lesser wolves lowering their gaze.
“What was that?” he demanded, voice low but edged with steel.
I didn’t stop moving. “None of your concern.”
“The hell it isn’t.” He stepped into my path. “Don’t make her believe you’ll care for her. We both know you’re not capable of doing that.”
My wolf bristled instantly, teeth bared in my mind. The air between us thickened, charged with the tension of two predators circling the same prize.
“Watch yourself,” I warned, my tone dropping to a growl.
Rhys’s wolf answered, a low rumble in his chest. “You think you can protect her by pulling her into your world? By giving her hope, you’ll never be able to keep? I won’t let you destroy her.”
My control slipped. The Alpha in me surged forward, a primal, ancient force that demanded submission. My power rolled off me in waves, heavy enough to press the air from his lungs.
Rhys stiffened, jaw locking, but his eyes didn’t drop—until the moment my wolf bared its full dominance.
Then, slowly, reluctantly, he bowed his head.
“Stay out of my way, Beta,” I said, my voice like a blade. “She’s mine to protect.”
I brushed past him, but his last words followed me like a curse.
“For her sake, I hope you mean that.”
- Writer
