Chapter 9

Isla POV

The door opened, I spun around and froze.

Tristan filled the doorway his wide shoulders blocking whatever light behind him and casting sort of a shadow made solid, he had one hand on the frame, his eyes sweeping the room in that way of his—like he could read every thought before I had it. He’d shed the suit jacket and undone the first two buttons of his black shirt, the fabric clinging to his frame in a way that shouldn’t have been allowed to be made possible.

His dark hair was slightly mussed, like he’d been running his hands through it in frustration and for a stupid, treacherous second my wolf stirred at the sight.

His eyes swept the room before settling on me. “You’re early.”

“I thought that was better than being late,” I said,keeping my voice cool.

" Your staff didn't seem to appreciate the efforts though" I drawled and one corner of his mouth twitched, but it wasn’t a smile.

“The staff will adjust.”

“They don’t seem thrilled.”

“They weren’t thrilled about the marriage either.”

I crossed my arms.

“Neither was I.”

“But you’re still awake,” he said, voice low but carrying and I nodded looking away from his me to his eyes although that didn't really help much.

" Why are you still awake" he asked his brows arched waiting for an answer, I cleared my throat looking around the room my face burning with heat

“I wasn’t sure where I’m supposed to sleep,” I admitted, standing awkwardly near the balcony. The room was huge, but I suddenly felt cornered in it.

He arched a brow, his eyes sweeping over the room, then landed on me.

“The bed is there. The couch is there.” He shrugged. “Pick one. I don’t really care.”I raised an eyebrow.

“Nice to know my comfort is so high on your priority list.”

“Like I said on the bed. Or the couch. I don’t care which.”

The words were flat, not cruel exactly, but stripped of anything that could be mistaken for warmth. He didn’t even hesitate as he crossed the room to the bed, shedding his jacket and tossing it over a chair before climbing under the covers himself.

Just like that—like this was the most ordinary arrangement in the world.

I swallowed, my pulse loud in my ears. The mate bond thrummed under my skin, not a soft, romantic hum but something restless, insistent. It made it hard to breathe.

I forced my voice to steady, I wasn’t going to let biology—or the Moon Goddess’s twisted sense of humor—dictate my choices or turn me into some stupid marshmallow.

“Do you always go to bed without saying goodnight?”

One corner of his mouth twitched—not a smile, exactly.

“Goodnight, Isla.”

That was it and I huffed so we weren't going to at least pretend to be in love then.

Typical.

I was going to be the only one keeping up the farce. Well if this marriage was a performance, then I’d at least act like the Luna I was supposed to be… even if my position came with an expiration date.

I grabbed my suitcase and dragged it towards what looked like a closet, I opened the doors and had to swallow the gasp in my throat.

The closet was almost as big as my bedroom back home, and half of it was empty with nothing inside of it.

I opened up my suitcase and hung my clothes in by the time I was done the closet looked like I hadn't even put a thing with it.

I grabbed my towel and closed the door slipping into the bathroom, more to put some distance between us than out of actual need. The bathroom was as large as my entire bedroom back at the Greywood mansion, all white marble. I turned on the tap, splashing cold water over my face until my breathing steadied.

The mirror had my reflection glaring right back at me, I didn't looked like I belonged here— my hair was slightly damp from my shower earlier,I wearing one of the silk nightgowns that my stepmom has shoved into my bag before I had.

It was simple by this place’s standards, pale grey with lace trim, but it felt indecently delicate on my skin.

I brushed out my hair slowly, trying to calm my racing thoughts. Being in the same room with him was like standing on the edge of a cliff—part of me wanted to step back, but the more rebellious part of me wanted to jump just to see if he’d catch me.

When I finally stepped back out, the lights were dimmed,the room in shadows of darkness with only a thin strip of light from the window.

Tristan was stretched out on the bed, one arm behind his head, his breathing steady but not deep enough to be sleep.

I hesitated only a moment before walking toward the bed, the sheets looked impossibly soft, the kind of luxury I’d never been offered in my life.

His voice came in the dark.

“Change your mind about the bed?” he asked and I swallowed

“You said the couch is fine…”

" Yes,so pick one,” he said without opening his eyes.

" I thought you would sleep on the couch" I grimaced and he huffed

" And why the hell would I do that "

My fingers tightened on the hem of my nightgown. I should have gone to the couch, put space between us.

That would have been smart. Safer.

Instead, I slid into the other side of the bed, keeping as much distance between us as the mattress allowed which was actually a lot because the bed was enormous but I was worried for when I would actually fall asleep.

I didn't want to wake up clinging to him the next morning, especially since the scent of him—that seductive scent of cedar, smoke, something uniquely Tristan—kept wrapping itself around me, sinking under my skin. My wolf leaned into it, shameless, and I hated how easily she betrayed me.

We lay in silence for a long while, the only sound the faint crackle from the hearth and the distant wind outside.

“You’re tense,” he said suddenly, and I could hear the faintest trace of amusement in his tone.

“I’m in bed with a man I barely know,” I replied.

“And you’re my mate, apparently, but you act like it’s an inconvenience.”

His eyes opened, catching the dim light.

“It is an inconvenience.”

The words landed like a slap, but there was no malice in his expression—just blunt truth and I was kind of grateful for it that he didn't lie.

“I didn’t ask for this either,” I said.

“No,” he agreed.

“But here we are."

I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling.

“Do you feel it?” I asked quietly.

There was a pause that made me feel foolish for even asking at all.

“Feel what?”he asked

“The bond,” I said.

“Or do you just ignore it until it goes away?”

Another silence, heavier this time. When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, rougher.

“It doesn’t go away.”