Let Them Kneel (kaelani and Julian) novel Chapter 57

Julian stood in front of the full-length mirror, silent as the tailor circled him, adjusting the jacket seams with careful precision.

The room smelled faintly of pressed wool, starch, and his mother’s wine.

She sat across from him on a velvet chair, one leg crossed over the other, a glass of red in her hand. “You look handsome,” she said lightly, though her eyes didn’t quite meet his in the mirror.

He didn’t respond.

Didn’t nod.

Didn’t smile.

He just stared at his reflection — at the man in the mirror dressed for a life that he was not ready to accept. The collar felt too high, too stiff. He tugged at it, his fingers slipping against the smooth lining.

“Is it supposed to be this tight?” he asked, voice flat. “This suffocating?”

The tailor didn’t look up. “It’s the same fit as all your other suits, Alpha.”

Julian exhaled through his nose, muscles tightening.

Of course it was.

The door opened sharply behind them, and Elara strode into the room like a woman on a mission, a tablet clutched in one hand. Her heels clicked against the marble as she approached — and the second her eyes landed on Julian, she froze.

Then flared.

“Are you kidding me?” she barked, eyes cutting to the tailor. “The trim is all wrong. It’s supposed to be burgundy.”

“It is burgundy,” the tailor said carefully, already going pale.

“That’s not burgundy, you numbskull,” Elara snapped. “That’s maroon.”

Julian’s head turned, eyes cold. “You need to calm down.”

Her eyes narrowed. “The ceremony is in two days, and your suit is wrong. You want me to calm down?”

“I want you to remember basic decency,” he said, voice low. “A color being slightly off is no excuse to talk to people like they’re beneath you.”

She looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “I’m going to be your Luna. I can talk to him — or anyone else — however I please.”

Julian just stared at her.

For a long, tense moment, he said nothing.

Because all he could think was: How did I not see it before?

How had she hidden this side of herself from him so completely?

The tailor cleared his throat. “Lady Elara, it’s a simple fix. I can resew the trim at the hem and collar to your exact shade. It won’t take more than a few hours.”

She wasn’t his. And he sure as hell wasn’t hers.

“I’m thinking two weeks,” she went on. “Most she-wolves go into heat after being marked, and I’ve heard some Alphas hit their rut hard. Better to let it run its course uninterrupted.”

Julian’s stomach churned.

The idea of rutting her — of touching her, of branding her — made his skin crawl. The very thought of it scraped against every instinct he had.

And his wolf?

The beast inside recoiled, baring its teeth.

Not her. Never her.

Elara tapped decisively on the screen. “Perfect. I’m booking it.”

Julian didn’t respond. She hadn’t actually asked for his opinion — how fitting that she was making the decision on her own.

She lifted the tablet again and angled it toward him. “Now I need a good headshot. The stylist and I need to go over options for your new haircut.”

Julian’s eyes narrowed. “I never agreed to cutting my hair.”

She waved a hand at him like he was being dramatic. “Oh, please. This shaggy look works for an unmated bachelor wolf, but you’re going to be a mated man very soon.” Her voice dropped an octave, falsely sweet. “And not too long after that, I’ll be bearing you some pups.”