Chapter 20

Eileen's POV

I woke up gasping.

My heart was hammering against my ribs, and my nightgown was twisted around my body, damp with sweat and clinging to my skin in ways that made me acutely aware of every sensitive place it touched.

Oh God.

The dream was still so vivid. So real. Silas's hands on my waist, his mouth against my neck, his voice low and rough in my ear saying things that made my entire body flush with heat.

I pressed my palms against my face, trying to cool the burning in my cheeks.

"What is wrong with me?" I whispered into the darkness.

My body was still humming with leftover arousal, that hollow ache between my legs that I'd never really felt before. Not like this. Not this intense.

Derek had never made me feel this way. Hell, Derek had barely touched me. A few chaste kisses that felt more like obligations than passion. He'd certainly never looked at me the way Silas had last night—like he wanted to devour me whole.

"I'm perfectly functional."

His words echoed in my head, and I groaned, burying my face deeper into my hands.

I needed to get a grip. This was just... biology. Physical attraction. I was a virgin, for crying out loud. Of course my body was going to react strongly to the first man who actually showed interest in me.

That's all this was.

Right?

I forced myself out of bed and poured a glass of water from the pitcher on my nightstand. The cool liquid helped a little, but it didn't do anything about the restless energy thrumming under my skin.

I was going to have to face him today. After last night. After I'd practically run away from his bedroom like a scared rabbit.

Smooth, Eileen. Real smooth.

I was just about to get dressed when someone knocked on my door. Hard. Urgent.

"Luna! Luna, please!"

I recognized the voice—one of the younger maids. Sarah, I think her name was.

I threw on my robe and yanked open the door. "What's wrong?"

Sarah's face was pale, her eyes wide. "It's Ivy, ma'am. She's downstairs in the main hall, and she's—she's going through your things."

My blood went cold. Then hot. Then cold again.

"What?"

"Your coat from last night," Sarah said quickly. "The one you left on the side table. She opened the pockets and found—"

I didn't wait for her to finish. I was already moving, tying my robe as I hurried down the hallway toward the main staircase.

My mind was racing. The necklace. The one I had reclaimed from Cassandra last night. I'd tucked it into my coat pocket because I hadn't wanted to wear it to bed.

Stupid. So stupid.

After fleeing Silas's room in such a flustered state last night, I had completely forgotten about the coat I'd left downstairs.

I should have put it somewhere safe. Should have known better than to leave anything valuable lying around where Ivy could get her hands on it.

I took the stairs two at a time, and when I reached the main hall, I stopped dead.

Ivy was standing by the side table, my coat over one arm and the necklace dangling from her fingers. The diamonds caught the morning light streaming through the windows, throwing tiny rainbows across the marble floor.

She looked up as I approached, and her lips curved into a smug smile.

"Oh, good morning, Luna," she said sweetly. "I was just admiring your new jewelry."

Around her, three other staff members stood frozen, their expressions caught somewhere between embarrassment and helplessness. They knew this was wrong. They just didn't know what to do about it.

I walked toward Ivy slowly, forcing myself to stay calm. To breathe.

"That's mine," I said, my voice steady.

"I know," Ivy said, turning the necklace so it caught the light. "I was just curious what the Luna brought home from the party last night. You don't mind, do you?"

"Yes," I said flatly. "I do mind."

Her smile faltered slightly. "It was just sitting out in the open. Anyone could have looked."

"But you didn't just look," I said, taking another step closer. "You went through my pockets. Without permission."

"Well, I—"

"Give it back."

My voice came out harder than I'd intended, and Ivy's eyes widened slightly. But she recovered quickly, lifting the necklace higher, just out of reach.

"Are you sure you didn't steal this?" she asked, her tone light but her eyes sharp. "It looks awfully expensive for someone who just married into the family."

The implication was clear. She was questioning whether I had any right to own something this valuable.

Before I could respond, Mrs. Martha's voice cut through the tension.

"Now, Luna," she said, stepping out from the hallway that led to the kitchens. "There's no need to make such a fuss. Ivy was just curious. Young girls like shiny things, you know."

I turned to look at her, and the condescension in her expression made my jaw tighten.

"Mrs. Martha," I said carefully. "In this manor, I am the Luna. And going through the Luna's personal belongings without permission is not acceptable. Regardless of who does it."

Mrs. Martha's mouth thinned. "With all due respect, you're being rather dramatic. Ivy didn't take anything. She was just looking."

"Looking requires asking first," I said, my voice going cold. "Or is that not how things work in this household?"

The staff members around us shifted uncomfortably. One of them—Sarah—looked like she wanted to sink into the floor.

Mrs. Martha's face flushed. "Luna, I understand you're new here, but Ivy has lived in this manor since she was a child. You can't just—"

"I'm not 'just' anything," I interrupted, my patience finally snapping. "I'm the Luna of this house. Which means my belongings are not up for public inspection. And if you have a problem with that, Mrs. Martha, perhaps you should take it up with the Alpha."

The room went silent.

Mrs. Martha's face went from flushed to pale, and Ivy's smug expression finally cracked.

"I didn't mean—" Ivy started.

"Now," I said, holding out my hand. "Give me the necklace."

For a moment, I thought she might refuse. Her fingers tightened around the diamonds, and something stubborn flashed in her eyes.

But then footsteps echoed from the entrance hall, and everyone's attention snapped toward the sound.

The front door opened, and an elderly woman stepped inside.

She was tall—or at least, she carried herself like she was. Her silver hair was pinned up in an elegant twist, and she wore a deep purple dress that looked like it cost more than most people's cars. A polished wooden cane tapped against the marble floor as she walked, but it seemed more like an accessory than a necessity.

Her eyes—sharp and gray-blue, so much like Silas's—swept across the scene in front of her, taking in Ivy with the necklace, Mrs. Martha's defensive posture, and me standing in the middle of it all in my nightgown and robe.

"Well," she said, her voice crisp and cultured. "What an interesting tableau."

Ivy's face lit up. "Grandmother Eleanor! I didn't know you were coming—"