Let Them Kneel (kaelani and Julian) novel Chapter 22

She was fucking beautiful.

Not in the way Elara was, all polish and performance—makeup sculpted, hair smoothed to gloss, ensembles stitched in precision and expectation. Elara’s beauty demanded attention. Kaelani’s simply existed. Raw. Unforgiving. Impossible to ignore.

The kind of beauty that made his wolf ignite, fierce and insistent, as though it had been waiting for this moment.

Kaelani leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as if bracing herself. Her voice was steady, but there was an edge beneath it. “Your Beta already told you the results, I assume?”

“Yes.”

“I took two more myself,” she added, tone sharp as a blade. “Both negative. Just in case one wasn’t enough for you.”

For a beat, neither moved. Neither blinked. Then her hand moved to the collar of her shirt, tugging it down to bare the faint scar at the curve of her neck. “Your mark is gone. Just a scar left in its place. I can’t do anything about that, unfortunately.”

Julian’s gaze caught there, lingering a beat too long, jaw tightening. Deep inside, a dangerous growl pressed against his ribs. He forced it down, swallowing hard before dragging his eyes away. “Are you taking the suppressants?”

“I have them.”

“You need to start,” he pressed, voice dropping lower, harder. “Too many unmated males pass through here. If you slip into heat again—” his jaw ticked, “you don’t want to cause more…problems.”

The words struck like a blow. Kaelani’s spine went rigid, her eyes narrowing. “I don’t see how that’s any of your concern.”

Julian’s hand flexed against the table, every muscle in his body tensing. He had to hold himself back from arguing, but the wolf inside him snarled at her defiance.

The midday sun struck his face, hot and relentless, though all he felt was cold inside. His strides slowed as he crossed the street to his car, his mind circling the encounter.

He hadn’t known what he was expecting, coming here. But it hadn’t been that. The anger in her eyes—the brutal dismissal in the end—it was earned. Deserved.

He had handled it all wrong. After those nights, he’d laid the blame squarely at her feet, as if she had forced his rut, as if she hadn’t been just as caught in it as he was. He had treated her like a mistake to erase instead of a woman who had given him something no one else ever had.

And worse—she had been untouched before him. Innocent. He had taken her virginity. He knew it the moment it happened—the way her body struggled to take him, the pain and cries she tried her best to mask.

And in his rut-driven hunger, he had been incapable of gentleness. He had taken, devoured, and then cast her aside like she was nothing.

The realization lodged in his chest like a blade as he slid into the driver’s seat. She had every right to hate him.