Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 163

163 A Seat at Blackbirth 2

Arya’s POV

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I jerked back so fast the tie of my robe nearly slipped. Lev straightened without any

visible embarrassment at all, which somehow made my own even worse.

Maxwell stood there with his arms folded and a look on his face that was part warning,

part amusement, and part something softer I was not prepared to examine.

“Morning,” he said dryly.

“Morning,” Lev answered, calm as stone.

I stared at both of them, heat rushing into my cheeks. “You could have knocked.”

Maxwell arched a brow. “I did. Twice. You didn’t hear.”

Lev’s mouth twitched.

I wanted the floor to open and take me.

Maxwell looked between us, then fixed his gaze on Lev. “If you’re done making my

adopted daughter forget she’s supposed to be getting ready for Blackbirth tonight, I

need her downstairs after breakfast.”

Adopted daughter.

The words still did strange things to my chest, even after hearing him say them more

than once.

Lev nodded. “I’m leaving now.”

His eyes returned to mine for the briefest second, and everything unspoken moved

through that glance like a live thing.

Then he picked up his jacket, gave Maxwell a respectful dip of the head, and walked out.

I stood there staring at the door long after it closed.

Maxwell waited exactly three heartbeats before muttering, “If you two set the house on

fire before noon, I’ll be annoyed.”

I looked at him, scandalised. “Maxwell.”

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He chuckled and waved me toward the washroom. “Get ready for breakfast, Arya.”

After he left, I bathed and dressed slowly, trying to force my mind into order.

It did not work.

Every time I tied my hair back, I remembered Lev’s mouth on mine.

Every time I fastened a button, I heard I hope to see you there in that low, controlled

voice.

Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw the same woman who kept saying she was being

careful and kept letting a dangerous man close enough to prove otherwise.

By the time I returned to my room after breakfast and Maxwell’s endless practical

instructions about timing, guards, seating, and which alphas were not worth my temper, I

was exhausted from my own thoughts.

I pushed open my door and stopped.

A dress lay spread across my bed.

Beside it sat a jewellery set in an open velvet box, delicate pieces, elegant without being

loud, the kind of beauty that did not need to announce itself to be seen. A note rested on

top of the fabric, folded once.

My pulse kicked.

I crossed the room slowly, as if the dress might vanish if I moved too fast.

The note carried my name in a hand I was beginning to recognise, clean, restrained

writing, no wasted flourish.

I unfolded it.

Arya,

I would love to see you shine in this tonight.

Lev

That was all.

No long speech.

< 163 A Seat at Blackbirth 2

No pressure.

No claim dressed as generosity.

Just that.

My fingers tightened around the paper.

Ria stirred, pleased. He chose for your comfort.

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I looked down at the dress and realised she was right before I even touched it properly.

The neckline was halter-style.

A deliberate choice.

Not high enough to look severe, not low in the wrong way, just cut in a way that left my

neck and shoulders free without pressing on the places I still hated being reminded of.

The front dipped deeper than what I would normally choose, enough to reveal cleavage.

The back was open in a graceful line, elegant and bold at once.

Light fabric. Beautiful fall.

Nothing stiff.

Nothing heavy.

Nothing that looked like armour.

It was the opposite of what I would have picked for myself.

And yet, as I ran my fingers over the fabric, I could see exactly why he had chosen it.

He had paid attention.

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