198 Fault Lines
Mara
Lucian returned late that night, shoulders heavy, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. I watched him move quietly through the room, heading to the bathroom and then slipping into bed beside me.
“How was the park with Rowan?” he asked as he settled beside me.
I snuggled into his warmth, grateful for the comfort of his presence.
“It was fine,” I said softly. “But it wasn’t fun without you.”
He kissed my forehead and pulled me closer.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come, Mara. Father kept me longer than I expected. He was dragging through every detail.” He sighed deeply.
I hesitated, then smiled.
“So… are you pumped up for tomorrow?”
He nodded.
“More than I thought I’d be.”
That brought me some relief. At least one of us wasn’t choking on nerves.
But then he added, “Father seemed off today. Gloomier than usual.”
And there it was-my opening.
“Of course he is, Lucian. He separated from his mate. Bonded or not, he’s been with her through most of his life. That kind of connection leaves a mark. He might pretend he’s fine, but I think she’s taking it harder than he is.”
Lucian chuckled, bitter and unconvinced.
“Don’t let Martha fool you. She lives for attention. Wait until someone shows her a little, and watch her bounce back like nothing happened.”
I shook my head. He wasn’t seeing what I saw.
“I doubt that,” I said quietly. “You should’ve seen her today. She was selling her jewelry-claiming you were going to kick her out after the handover.”
That
got his attention. He sat up, frowning.
“That must be an act. Martha loves her flashy things. Selling them? That’s not her.”
“Exactly.” I looked him straight in the eye. “She’s scared. She hasn’t eaten in four days, Lucian. She’s visibly lost weight. She looks like she’s hanging by a thread-and she reeks of fear. I think she’s still under pressure from her ex.”
Lucian rolled his eyes and slumped back against the pillows.
“If she needed help, she could come clean. But she hasn’t. So let her deal with her own mess, Mara. It’s not our responsibility.”
That stung more than I expected. I sat up this time, my voice sharper.
“It is our business, Lucian. If anything happens to her, Darian will be the one to suffer. You don’t have to like her, but she’s still his mother. He’s your brother-and that means you owe him at least that much.
* 198 Fault Lines
He stared at me, jaw tight, but I didn’t back down.
“If she dies, he’ll resent you. He might say he won’t now, but grief makes people irrational. And whether you want to admit it or not, you know exactly how that feels.”
Lucian’s expression hardened.
“Don’t go there,” he said, voice low, warning.
But I didn’t flinch.
“You hated your father after speaking to your aunt because you thought he was responsible for your mother’s death. Are you really going to let Darian walk that same path-because of your pride?”
He looked away, jaw clenched, silence stretching between us.
“That’s different,” Lucian snapped.
I sat up slightly, meeting his eyes.
“It’s not different, Lucian. Martha is Darian’s mother. No matter what she’s done, he’s still her son. If something happens to her, it’ll affect him. You might not care, but he will. And he’s been nothing but loyal to you-completely, unshakably loyal.”
Lucian clenched his jaw but didn’t speak.
“He’s never tried to compete with you or undermine you. He could’ve gone off and started his own pack by now-he has
the strength, the mark-but he didn’t. He chose to stand by you. As your Beta. That kind of loyalty doesn’t come often,
Lucian. You know that.”
“If we ignore Martha’s cry for help, and she dies… Chase Nighthorn and Alaric Moongrove won’t be your only enemies.
You’ll lose something far more personal. And I don’t think you’re ready for that.”
Lucian looked frustrated, rubbing his hands over his face.
“I’ve had a long day, Mara. I came home hoping to hold my wife, kiss her, sleep next to her. And now we’re talking about
Martha. Why should I care? She chose her secrets. She chose her games. Why are you acting like we’re the villains in
this story?”
I bit my tongue.
He was angry, and tired, and wound tight from everything on his plate. Pushing now would only hurt us both.
“I’m sorry I brought it up,” I said softly. “I won’t mention it again.”
It hurt how quickly he’d dismissed me, how little space there was for concern tonight. But I kept that to myself. The last
thing I wanted was for a conversation about her to pull us apart.
I laid back down and turned away from him. My back was tight with restraint. I hated how the pregnancy made me so raw,
so easily wounded.
A beat passed. Then another.
And then his voice, quiet now.
“Mara…”
He shifted closer, gently placing a hand on my side.
I didn’t move.
He pressed a kiss to my shoulder.
< 198 Fault Lines
+8 Points >
“Please. I’m sorry I snapped. I just didn’t want to think about her tonight. I’m exhausted. There’s so much on my mind. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
I still said nothing, but my body softened.
He moved closer, wrapping his arms around me, grounding me in the strength of his presence. I let him. Because despite the sharpness of his words, I knew his heart. I knew he carried more than he let on.
His lips found the place on my neck where he’d claimed me. The moment he kissed it, a wave of warmth spread down my spine.
I moaned softly, my body suddenly alive to every touch.
He had said he planned to make love to me tonight-and now, his hands, his mouth, the fire in his breath told me he still intended to.
And I wasn’t going to stop him.
Not tonight.
I turned toward him, and he kissed me-fierce, hungry, as if he needed to feel something real to drown out the weight of the day. I met him with equal fire, threading my fingers through his hair as I pushed him gently back against the pillows.
He let me guide him, his eyes flicking over me with a knowing smirk.
“Taking charge tonight?” he asked, voice low and teasing.
I didn’t answer with words.
I stripped off my clothes slowly, watching the curiosity in his eyes shift into something deeper. His gaze was hot and steady, and when I tugged his shorts down, he kicked them off without hesitation, hands finding my hips with instinct.
I was burning-no time for teasing, no patience for foreplay. Pregnancy had made my body its own storm, and tonight, it demanded release.
I straddled him, positioning myself, and then sank onto him with a gasp. Lucian exhaled sharply, his hands tightening on my waist.
The connection between us snapped into focus-urgent, electric, alive.
I began to move, rolling my hips, setting the pace. His hands roamed my thighs, then my back, before settling again on my hips, grounding me, guiding me-but not taking control.
This was mine tonight.
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