The Heartbroken Luna's Choice Banish Love novel Chapter 280

Trista's POV

The air between us was a silent standoff.

Cassian stared into my eyes, searching for even the smallest crack that would prove I was lying.

I stared right back as I threw the pills into my mouth, chased them with a massive gulp of water, and forced them down.

I set the glass down and met his dark, heavy gaze. My voice was flat. "It's just a basic bacterial infection. The meds will handle it. Drop the paranoid suspicion."

I turned and walked into the bedroom.

Once inside, I eased the door shut.

I waited a few seconds, then cracked it just a fraction of an inch, holding my breath to peek out.

Sure enough, Cassian had already picked up my bag and was digging out the falsified blood report.

My palms were slick with cold sweat.

I knew this man's mind was a web of schemes; he was never going to just take my word for a "cold."

Luckily, I'd prepared for everything.

I retreated to the bathroom and locked the door.

I ripped open a pad from the drawer and pulled a pre-prepared tube of biochemical blood samples from my pocket.

I had to fake the "cycle."

An hour later.

I came out from my shower to find Cassian making the bed.

I grabbed my pillow to head to the guest room, but he snatched it out of my hands.

"I had the bed in the guest room removed today," Cassian said, his voice dropping an octave.

I froze. "Fine. If you want the master bedroom, I'll sleep on the sofa."

Seeing that I'd rather sleep on a couch than be near him made his expression turn terrifyingly dark.

He lunged forward, his hands clamping onto my shoulders with a messy, desperate sense of possessiveness.

"Trista, I know what happened before crossed every line this pack has," he whispered. "But we are still mated. Do you really plan on icing me out for the rest of your life?"

It was almost laughable. "Cassian, if I was the one out there sleeping with other men and carrying a pup that wasn't yours, would you be sitting here talking to me about 'the bond'?"

My anger spiked. "You betrayed our oath. You have a mistress and a love child, yet you refuse to sign the severance papers. You tell me I'm not allowed to be angry, that I'm not allowed to have feelings—and I've done what you asked. How much more do you want to torture me?"

Seeing me on the verge of another breakdown, Cassian forced himself to back off.

He pulled me into a hug, his palm stroking my back, trying to soothe my volatile pheromones.

"I apologized, and I cut her off," he said, his voice softening. "Can't we just turn the page and start over?"

On a scorching LA afternoon, only the roar of an engine could drown out the noise in my head.

On the track, a red and a blue car were blurring past at lethal speeds. Suddenly, the red one pulled a violent burst of acceleration, whipping into a "Death's Kiss" drift around the corner.

The car spun 180 degrees, its nose coming to a dead stop against the blue car's grille. Thick white smoke billowed from the tires as it sat defiantly in the middle of the track.

Amid the frantic cheering of the crowd, the red car door opened.

I pulled off my helmet, my long hair spilling out. The red and white racing suit hugged my frame, making me look sharp and lethal.

Isaiah, being the lunatic he is, scooped me up and spun me around several times.

I laughed—a real, wide smile. Surrounded by the red of my gear, I looked like a flickering flame.

I'd always been addicted to the brush with death that came with speed.

I was fearless on the track, but there was one move I could never quite master: that perfect "Death's Kiss."

Back then, I knew Cassian was a master behind the wheel, so I begged him to teach me.

After wrecking more high-end sports cars than I could count, I finally nailed that 180-turn.

It was a sunset three years ago, the sky bleeding into the LA horizon.

At the end of an empty track, I'd sat in the driver's seat, grabbed him by the collar, and kissed him first.

I told him, "Cassian, from now on, your kisses belong only to me."