Luna Forsaken (Arya and James) novel Chapter 224

224 His Lap, My Quiex

2

Arya’s POVO

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Lev’s eyes dropped for a second. Down the line of my robe. The slip of lace at my thigh.

The way the silk sat on my skin. Then back to my face.

Slow.

Dark.

Not crude.

Not disrespectful.

Just hungry.

His mouth curved a little like he liked what he saw.

“You didn’t go to bed.”

I lifted my chin like I was not flustered.

“I wasn’t tired.”

He started walking toward me, unhurried, every step calm. Controlled. Like he already

knew I was not going anywhere. That thought alone made something in my stomach flip.

He sat beside me on the couch, close enough that his thigh brushed mine. It was a small

touch. It still felt like too much. Like my body had forgotten how to be normal around

him.

For a second neither of us spoke. He smelled like soap and clean skin and that deep

male wolf scent under it all that always hit me like a warning and a promise at the same

time. Then, like it was the easiest thing in the world, he reached out and pulled me onto

his lap. Just lifted me and settled me there, one arm around my waist, the other hand

resting on my thigh.

A soft sound left me before I could stop it.

Lev’s breath caught slightly, like he liked hearing it.

He held me against him, warm and solid, like his body was some wall he was building around me. I stiffened without meaning to. Habit. Reflex. Old things I still had not gotten

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rid of. Of course he noticed. He always noticed. His hand moved slowly up my back, not

forcing, just pressing there, steady and warm.

“Relax.”

He said it near my ear, low and soft, and the worst part was that my body listened

before my pride did. I hated that. I really did.

Then he kissed my neck.

Soft.

Slow.

Not the kind of touch that felt like a claim. Not something meant to trap me. This felt

different. Gentle. Almost romantic. Like he was trying to remind my body that touch did

not always have to mean danger. My breathing changed before I could control it. He kissed me again, a little lower this time. Then he nibbled lightly at my ear, just enough to

make my stomach drop and a small moan slip out of me before I could stop it.

My eyes shut right away in pure annoyance at myself.

Lev made that low sound again, maybe a chuckle, maybe something worse.

“You’re quiet.”

“Don’t start.”

I whispered it, but he started anyway. Of course he did. His mouth stayed close to my ear

when he spoke, voice low and far too intimate.

“You’ll be accompanying me to the Countess’s party.”

I froze.

My eyes opened.

“What?”

I pulled back just enough to look at him properly. Lev’s face stayed calm. Too calm.

“As my date.”

I stared at him like he had lost his mind.

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The Countess. Briarwood. That invitation back in Dragonclaw. Mary’s godmother.

Old blood. Old power. The very thing that had made his jaw tighten before. And now he

was saying I would be going with him. Me.

I swallowed.

“Are you sure?”

His arm tightened around my waist and pulled me closer again, like he did not like the

space that question created.

“If not you,” he said quietly, “then who else?”

My mouth opened. I almost said it.

Mary.

The name sat right there on my tongue. I almost threw it out like a blade. Like a test. Like

a way to see what moved in his face when I said it. But I didn’t. I did not want to drag her

into this moment. Did not want to sour it. Did not want to hand that name any power

while I was sitting in his lap with peace still fresh in my chest.

So I just gave a soft little laugh instead, like the question was ridiculous.

Lev’s eyes narrowed a little, like he knew exactly what name had been sitting there.

Then he nibbled my ear again and murmured,

“Don’t even say Mary.”

I burst out laughing.

A real laugh. Surprised and helpless and too loud.

Because that was exactly what I had been thinking.

“You’re ridiculous.”

He looked pleased with himself.

“I know you.”

“You don’t.”

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“I do.”

Then he tickled my side.

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Quick fingers, slipping under the robe, brief and sharp, and I squealed before I could stop

myself and slapped at his hand, trying not to laugh too loudly because Blackbirth had

too many ears and I was not about to let the whole mansion know the acting Alpha was

playing with me on his balcony.

“Lev,” I hissed, half laughing, half threatening.

He grinned like a menace.

“You’re tense.”

“I’m not tense.”

“You are.”

“I’m not. Stop that.”

He did it again. Quick. Mean. Just enough to make me curse under my breath. Then he

stopped as suddenly as he had started, like he knew exactly how far to push and when

to pull back. He leaned close after that, mouth near my neck again, voice lower.

“I plan to show you off.”

That hit me in a completely different way. Not just heat. Something deeper. Show me off.

Like I was his. Like he was proud. Like he wanted people to see me beside him and

understand what he had chosen.

I could not answer right away. The words did not come fast enough. Lev did not push for

them. He just kept me there, one hand on my thigh, thumb moving in slow circles that

made my skin prickle.

Then he said it quieter.

Like it mattered more than the rest.

“You will be my Luna.”

My chest tightened so hard it hurt.

That word.

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Luna.

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It used to mean safety. Home. Belonging. A place beside someone who promised to

stand with you. Now it carried too much. Betrayal. Lies. Humiliation. Cages. Punishment.

A dead child. It was too heavy. Too full of ghosts.

Lev must have felt me go stiff because his hold tightened a little. Not trapping. Just

anchoring.

“I can wait,” he said. “I can.”

That hit me like a punch.

Because James had not waited.

James had panicked. Rushed. Bent. Let other people pull him apart until he destroyed

the one thing that should have mattered more than any of them.

Lev was giving me something else.

Time. Space. Patience. Still wanting me anyway. Still choosing me anyway.

It scared me so badly I could barely breathe around it.

My throat tightened and I did not want him to see what that did to me, so I did what I

always did when feeling got too close.

I changed the subject.

“I thought you had a meeting.”

Lev looked at me like he saw straight through it. Of course he did. Then he said, calm

and firm,

“I didn’t ask you to come here only to leave you by yourself.”

That touched me in a way I was not ready for. It slid into my chest quietly, deep enough

to ache, because he said it like it was obvious. Like bringing me here had been about

wanting me close. Not appearances. Not politics. Not making some point to Mary. Just

1. Just the fact that he did not want me alone while he handled his mess.

My lips parted, but again no words came.

Then his hands moved.

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He turned me gently until I was facing him fully, guiding my hips until I was straddling

him on the couch, knees on either side of his thighs, his hands steady at my waist. The

robe slipped further open and the silk under it caught the moonlight like water. I felt

exposed.

Not embarrassed.

Dangerous.

Lev looked up at me with those dark steady eyes, and the way he looked at me made my

skin feel too tight. Like he was seeing all of me. Like he was not comparing me to

anyone. Not thinking about Briarwood. Not thinking about Mary. Not thinking about

Diana or Radimir or any of that poison.

Just me.

“You’re shaking.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

I swallowed.

“It’s cold.”

His mouth curved.

“Liar.”

I glared at him, but I did not move. I did not climb off. I did not break the moment. He

lifted one hand and brushed his knuckles along my cheek, slow and gentle.

Then he said, almost softly,

“I’m a very patient man.”

I held his gaze. He did not blink.

“I promise I will earn your love.”

That one nearly broke me. Earn. Not demand. Not pressure. Not claim it like a right and call it duty.

Earn.

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failed me completely

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I did not know what to do with a word like that. I did not know where to put it. Words

after that, so I stayed quiet. Lev did not look disappointed by my

silence. He looked like he understood it. Like he knew some things were too big for an

answer yet.

Then he kissed me.

Not rough. Not hungry. Gentle. So gentle it made my throat ache.

His lips moved against mine slowly, like he was not trying to take anything from me. Like

he was trying to show me what it felt like to be touched without fear tied to it. My hands

slid into his damp hair without my permission, fingers curling lightly. His hair was still

wet from the shower, cool against my hands, and the contrast between that and the heat

under my skin made me shiver.

His hands tightened a little at my waist, holding me steady.

The kiss deepened just enough. Still soft. Still slow. Enough to make my breathing unsteady. Enough to make me forget the garden below and the house around us and

everything that had come before tonight.

When he pulled back, he did not go far. He rested his forehead against mine for one beat, his breath warm against my mouth. Then he moved to my ear and murmured in

that low dangerous voice of his,

“We have the entire night to ourselves.”

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