Lethal Temptation (by Michelle Ray) novel Chapter 13

13 (Lucian’s POV) His Side

Lucian

Mara was a gentle soul–delicate, yet unbreakable.

I saw it in the way she moved, in the way she carried herself with silent defiance even as the world

pulled the ground out from beneath her.

At the reception, she sat quietly beside me, a statue carved from resolve. I didn’t want her to feel

alone. I didn’t want people whispering about how cold I was, or worse, how unwanted she was. So

I asked her to dance.

She didn’t expect it. I saw the surprise flicker across her face.

She stood anyway.

And when I took her hand in mine, I wasn’t prepared for what I felt.

Her palm–soft, warm, trembling slightly.

The kind of touch that made you want to pull someone in and never let go. That instinct to protect

flared inside me, raw and sudden. Not out of obligation. Not because she was my wife. But

because something in her presence demanded it.

She was strong. Stronger than most warriors I knew. But she didn’t wear that strength like armor. She wore it like silk–quiet, graceful, dangerous.

And she was beautiful.

I had known it, logically. I’d seen her around. But the moment she stepped into the registry,

everything sharpened.

The way her eyes held pain but refused to break. The way she walked into the room like it didn’t matter that the ground had shifted beneath her feet.

I held her as we swayed, and it felt right.

Too right.

Her head rested against my chest, and I had to steady myself, grounding my breath, fighting every

primal urge clawing to the surface. If the DJ hadn’t switched to that upbeat song, I might never

have let her go.

After that, I couldn’t stay.

She didn’t want me. That much was clear. And if I lingered in that room with her–if I stayed in the

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13(Lucian’s POV) His Side

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space where the scent of her filled the air and my instincts screamed to claim her—I would lose

control.

I couldn’t do that to her.

So I left.

Not to see Tina–I had ended things with her a week ago. She cried, begged, accused. I

understood her pain, but I couldn’t live a double life. Even if Mara and I weren’t in love, she was my

wife. And she deserved respect. Publicly, privately, in every unspoken way.

I spent hours driving the streets, letting the silence calm the storm in me. Letting the pull toward her dull to something manageable.

I didn’t know where this marriage would go. Maybe nowhere. But I was trying. I owed her that

much.

When I finally returned home, it was late. Quiet. I entered my room from the second door, careful not to disturb her. I told myself I’d sleep.

But my instincts had other plans.

I had to check on her.

Call it the Alpha in me, call it guilt, call it whatever you like–I needed to see that she was okay.

So I walked through the arch into her room, silent as a shadow.

And there she was.

Curled on the bed in a soft, fetal shape. Wearing one of my old T–shirts.

My shirt.

Her legs were bare, skin kissed with a golden tan, soft and smooth. The lace panties were delicate, just barely hidden beneath the hem of the shirt. And I froze.

Every part of me wanted to look away–but I couldn’t. Not because of lust, but because of how hu

man she looked. Vulnerable. Peaceful. Alone.

My throat tightened.

She shouldn’t have had to survive this way. Not like this. Not thrown into a marriage, into a house where love was absent but expectations were high.

My father should have let me court her–should have let me know her. He’d rushed it all to beat

Darian’s return, and I saw now why.

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Teemenibaring how she smaller!

wonder’t have at her go He

Ang how against all odds, this gre–this unwanted wife–was becoming the most dangerous

distracttern I had ever known,