chapter 146
Tori's POV:
Lucas stared at me, his eyes lingering on the mark he'd left on my neck.
"She is not yours," he said to Ethan, each word precise and deadly calm. "She belongs to me."
He paused, and I could feel the weight of his claim settling over me like a physical thing. "This is the last time I'm warning you, Ethan. Next time, I won't be so considerate of our family ties."
He ended the call and handed the phone back to me, his movements controlled but tense.
I couldn't look away from his face, seeing something there I'd never witnessed before—a raw possessiveness that should have frightened me but instead sent a thrill down my spine.
"Lucas," I whispered, "your eyes..."
They had shifted to an icy blue.
Lucas didn't answer. Instead, he stalked toward me with predatory grace, backing me against the wall. His breathing was measured but deep, as though he was fighting for control.
"Duke is angry," he finally said, his voice a low rumble that I felt more than heard. "He doesn't like other wolves calling you 'my moon.'"
I swallowed hard. The expression "my moon" was reserved for mates in wolf culture—not something to be used casually, especially by someone who wasn't your actual mate.
"Ethan is drunk," I said softly, trying to diffuse the tension. "He doesn't mean—"
"He meant every word." Lucas cut me off, placing his hands on either side of my head, caging me in.
His voice dropped lower, suddenly vulnerable beneath the anger. "I lied earlier today, Tori. When I said your past didn't matter to me."
His jaw clenched. "I care very much about what Fiona said. The thought of you and Ethan together—intimate—it drives me insane with jealousy. I can't stand it. I can't tolerate you talking to him anymore."
The raw honesty in his confession caught me off guard. This powerful Alpha, admitting such vulnerability—over me.
A smile tugged at my lips, surprising us both. I reached up and gently ran my fingers through his hair, the gesture both soothing and intimate.
"You're jealous," I said softly, not a question but a realization.
"I don't want Ethan," I whispered, my voice steadier than I expected. "I just want you."
Something in Lucas's expression shifted. The anger didn't fade, but it transformed into something else—something hungrier, more primal.
"Prove it," Lucas said, his voice rough with emotion.
Tori stepped closer, her heart pounding. "How?"
"Show me I'm the only one who matters."
The air between us felt charged, electric.
I reached up slowly, my fingers trembling slightly as they traced the line of his jaw. His skin was warm beneath my touch, and I felt him tense, every muscle coiled tight as he fought for control.
"Lucas," I breathed his name like a prayer, watching his eyes darken at the sound. My hand slid into his hair, and he exhaled sharply.
I pulled him closer until there was barely any space between us.
I could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the pine and winter storm scent that was uniquely his, now mixed with something darker, more intoxicating.
"I am yours," I whispered against his mouth, feeling bold in a way I'd never been before. "Only yours, Lucas."
The last thread of his control snapped.
He kissed me deeply, thoroughly, his hands pulling me flush against him. When we finally broke apart, both breathless, the moonlight streaming through the windows cast shadows across his face.
"Say it again," he murmured against my temple, his arms wrapped securely around me. "Tell me you're mine."
"I'm yours, Lucas," I repeated, my fingers tracing patterns on his chest through his shirt. "And you're mine."
He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me toward the bedroom. "All night," he said, his voice rough with promise. "I want to hear you say my name all night."
The night stretched on, filled with whispered confessions.
Every time his lips found mine, every time his hands traced new paths across my skin, he would pause and wait, his silver eyes holding mine in the moonlight.
"Say it," he would command softly, and I would obey.
"Lucas." Sometimes breathless. "Lucas." Sometimes pleading. "Lucas." Sometimes laughing softly at his insatiable need to hear his name on my lips.
He was gentle and demanding by turns, patient and urgent, always attentive to every response, every sound I made. When I grew too tired to speak, he would coax the words from me with touches that made my breath catch.
"I love you," I finally whispered in the darkest hour before dawn, the words tumbling out unbidden. "I love you, Lucas."
He stilled above me, his eyes searching mine in the silver moonlight. For a moment, I feared I'd said too much, revealed too much of my heart.
But then his expression softened into something achingly tender.
"I love you more." he said, his voice rough with emotion.
---
My body felt heavy with exhaustion, every muscle pleasantly sore in a way that made my cheeks heat as memories of the night before flooded back.
My phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand. Morgan's name flashed across the screen.
"Tori! You won't believe what happened!" Her voice was breathless with excitement and indignation.
"Morgan, slow down—" I started to say, but my voice came out as a hoarse rasp that made me wince.
I cleared my throat and tried again. "Take your time and tell me what's going on."
There was a pause on the other end. "Tori? What's wrong with your voice? Are you sick?"
My face erupted in flames as memories of the night before flooded back—Lucas's commands, my breathless responses, saying his name over and over until my throat was raw.
"I'm fine!" I said quickly, my voice still scratchy. "Just... just woke up. You know how it is in the morning."
"You sound like you've been screaming all night," Morgan said suspiciously.
I nearly choked. "I—what? No! I just—" I grabbed the water glass on the nightstand and took a desperate gulp, buying myself time. "What were you calling about? You said something happened?"
Morgan hesitated, clearly not convinced by my deflection, but her news was apparently too important to ignore. "Right! Okay, so you're not going to believe this, but Fiona had her baby!"
"What?" I sat up straighter, wincing slightly. "Already?"
"Yes! And it's a male pup, can you believe it?" Morgan's voice dripped with bitter sarcasm. "Elizabeth Grayson is practically throwing a parade."
I stayed silent, processing this information.
"And get this," Morgan continued, her indignation building, "Richard Grayson announced he's setting aside ten percent of Grayson Enterprises stock as a birth gift. ten percent! Do you know how much that's worth?"
"A lot," I murmured, my voice still hoarse.
"Exactly! So now Fiona has her golden ticket back into the family. Never mind that she's a convicted criminal who framed you and destroyed your life. She popped out an Alpha baby, so all is forgiven!" Morgan's voice rose with each word.
I closed my eyes. Of course, I had emotions about this—anger, resentment, the bitter taste of injustice. But I have no choice.