Chapter 76
Violet's POV:
The mountain air hit me the moment I stepped outside the estate, sharp and merciless at thirty degrees Fahrenheit. I wrapped my arms around myself, the thin bridesmaid dress offering no protection against the wind. My skin broke out in goosebumps immediately, the cold sinking straight through to my bones in a way it never had before pregnancy had thrown my body's temperature regulation off balance.
My phone buzzed. Sienna's name flashed across the screen. "Hey, are you—"
"Vi, I'm so sorry," her voice came through slurred and apologetic, punctuated by retching in the background. "Lucian says you passed out and he can't wake me up properly. So..." Another heaving sound.
My stomach dropped. So Daemon was waiting in the rest area. "It's fine, don't worry. Just take care of yourself."
Headlights cut across the parking lot the moment I ended the call. The black SUV pulled up beside me with smooth precision, and Daemon's blood-red eyes fixed on me from the driver's seat. He leaned across the center console, his suit jacket conspicuously absent. "Get in the car, Violet."
"Now." His jaw clenched. "It's thirty degrees and you're wearing a dress. Get in the fucking car before you freeze to death."
Before I could respond, he was out of the SUV, steering me toward the passenger door with firm hands on my shoulders. When he opened the door and warmth flooded out, my resolve crumbled. I climbed in without protest.
Daemon reached behind him for his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders before I could react, the heavy fabric still warm and carrying that scent of cold cedar and leather. I opened my mouth to refuse, but another wave of shivers ran through me.
"Don't," he said quietly, adjusting it around my shoulders. "Just wear it. The mountain wind can kill at this temperature."
We drove in silence past the ceremony site where workers were still breaking down decorations. My hand moved unconsciously to my stomach before I caught myself and tucked both hands under the jacket instead.
"Are you hungry?" The question caught me off guard. I started to say no, but my stomach growled loudly.
Daemon's expression shifted. "When did you last eat?"
"Lunch, maybe? Before the ceremony preparations."
"That was over eight hours ago." His voice took on an edge. "We're stopping for food. There's a Maison Étoile twenty minutes—"
"No." The word came out sharp, driven by irrational emotion. "I don't want that."
He glanced at me, one eyebrow raised.
"I want street food. From food trucks near the university. Heavy and cheap and—"
"You have stomach issues and you want street food?" His tone was incredulous. "Violet, that's—"
"I don't care!" The words burst out, my voice cracking. "I want greasy food from a food truck, and I don't care what judgment you're about to pass! So either take me there or let me out of this fucking car!"
Tears pricked my eyes. I reached for the door handle blindly.
"Stop." His hand caught my wrist. "Christ, Violet, stop. We'll get whatever food you want, okay? Just don't cry over a meal. Please."
He turned the steering wheel sharply. "Food trucks. Near the university. Got it."
The night market was alive despite the late hour, strings of lights between stalls, neon signs advertising everything from Korean fried chicken to Mexican tacos. The mixed scents hit me the moment Daemon parked, and my mouth watered intensely.
"Stay here while I find parking," Daemon started, but I was already out.
I ordered at the fried chicken stand first. "Two orders. Extra crispy."
Then Mexican—two beef tacos with extra sour cream and loaded nachos. Chinese stir-fry next, spicy noodles the vendor warned me about twice. Korean rice cakes. Bubble tea. By the time I'd worked through half the stalls, my arms were full of containers.
Daemon followed like a shadow, carrying most of the food, his expression between bewildered and concerned. "Violet, you can't possibly eat all of this."
"Watch me." I tore into the fried chicken, devouring piece after piece while we walked, barely pausing between containers. The spicy noodles, the rice cakes—each bite sent waves of satisfaction through my system.
When I finally slowed down, my stomach pleasantly full for the first time in weeks, my hand unconsciously moved to rest on my slightly rounded abdomen.
The gesture broke through my haze like cold water. I jerked my hand away immediately, heart hammering. Right in front of Daemon. I glanced at him quickly, but he was looking at his phone, jaw tight.
"Are you done?" he asked, voice carefully controlled.
I nodded and followed him back to the SUV. The warmth and fullness made my eyelids impossibly heavy. I was almost asleep when his voice cut through the darkness.
"Has my mother contacted you recently?"
The question jolted me awake. "No. Why would she?"
"We completed the rejection," I said coldly. "There's no reason for her to contact me. I'm not part of your family."
"And I think Celeste will have opinions about your mother staying close to your ex-Luna." I let sarcasm drip into my voice. "Might make things awkward when you're building a new future with her."
The temperature dropped. "Why the fuck do you keep bringing her up?"
"Bringing who up?"
"Celeste." He bit out her name. "Every time we talk, you mention her."
"I'm being practical." Anger built in my chest. "You're going to bond with her eventually. I'm making sure there are clear boundaries so your future Luna doesn't think I'm clinging to my past."
"Get out then." His voice went cold as he unlocked the door. "Walk home. I'm sure that's what you want—to freeze rather than accept help from me."
I stared at him, but exhaustion was too heavy. "Fine. Just take me home. Please."
He pulled back onto the road without another word. When we reached my apartment, I moved to take off his jacket, but his hand stopped me. "Keep it. I don't need it back."
I nodded and slid out. I made it to my apartment before the tears came, fumbling with my keys. Behind me, the SUV's engine still ran—Daemon waiting to make sure I got inside.
The door opened and I stepped inside, sliding to the floor. My hands moved to my stomach, cradling the small life there.
"Just us," I whispered, voice breaking. "It's going to be just us, and that's going to be enough."
---
The next morning, I woke in my own bed with sunlight streaming through the windows and no memory of getting there from the floor.
By noon, I was in Linda's rental car, my suitcase in back as we headed toward the highway to City G. The eight or nine hour drive meant switching off every few hours.
"So," Linda said once we'd cleared the city limits. "I know you're Aiden's cousin. He mentioned it when Patricia assigned us together."
"He did?" I glanced at her, surprised. "I was hoping to prove myself on merit first."
"You already have." Her smile was genuine. "Your portfolio speaks for itself." She paused. "I did my graduate work at Lupine Sovereign University about six years ago."
"I graduated seven years ago," I said. "So we probably crossed paths."
We fell into easy conversation about the university, about Silver Ridge versus City G, about the partnership with Western Industries. Linda was sharp and professional.
"So," she said after three hours, tone deliberately casual. "I noticed your mark is gone."
My stomach tightened. "We completed the rejection a few weeks ago."
Linda was silent for several seconds, hands tightening on the wheel. "Smart choice," she finally said, something bitter in her voice.
"What about you? Are you seeing anyone?"
"No, and I won't." She laughed harshly. "Men are... I don't hold any illusions about them anymore. None of them are worth it."
"Sounds like you're speaking from experience."
Her jaw tightened, eyes fixed on the road. "Aren't we all?" She changed lanes abruptly, clearly ending that conversation.
---
We arrived at the hotel just before four PM, exhausted. After checking in and dropping our bags, we had barely an hour before the business dinner Ashton Reed had arranged at Seafood Symphony, the hotel's top-floor restaurant.
I'd met Ashton on video calls—Western Industries' procurement director, mid-forties with an easy smile and sharp business acumen. Tonight was our first face-to-face meeting.
The moment we stepped inside, the smell hit me. Rich, heavy seafood mixed with garlic and butter. My stomach lurched ominously, but I forced a smile as Ashton stood to greet us.
"Ladies! Welcome." He shook our hands enthusiastically, gesturing to platters already on the table. "I ordered their specialties. Garlic butter shrimp, lobster tail, king crab, oysters, steamed sea bass—hope you're both hungry!"
The garlic shrimp was directly in front of my seat, the pungent aroma making bile rise in my throat. I sat carefully, gripping the table edge as I tried to breathe through my mouth.
"This looks amazing," Linda said smoothly, covering for my silence as she engaged Ashton about the partnership.
I reached for my water glass with shaking hands, trying desperately to focus on anything except the platters of seafood. The oysters especially—their raw, glistening appearance made my stomach heave.
"Violet, you haven't tried anything yet," Ashton said with concern about ten minutes in. "Everything okay?"
"I'm fine," I managed, pressing my napkin to my lips. "Just—a little carsick from the drive. Would you excuse me?"
I walked as steadily as I could toward the restrooms. The moment I was out of sight, I broke into a near-run, barely making it into a stall before my stomach rebelled.
I retched over the toilet, my body trying to expel food that wasn't there. The dry heaving was worse than actual vomiting, my throat burning as I gasped for air. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead.
When the worst passed, I cleaned up and stumbled to the sink. I leaned against the wall, gathering strength, before forcing myself back toward the dining room.
I turned the corner and walked straight into someone's chest, my weakened legs giving out slightly. Strong hands caught my arms.
"Violet?" The familiar voice made me look up in shock. "What are you doing here?"
Evan Thorne stared down at me, light green eyes wide with surprise.
"You look terrible," he said bluntly, doctor instincts kicking in. "Are you sick?"
"I'm fine," I said automatically, trying to pull away, but my legs buckled and his grip tightened.
"You're not fine." His eyes narrowed. "You smell like—" He paused, leaning closer. "Like vomit. Violet, are you drunk?"
"No! I just have an upset stomach. I'm here for work and need to get back—"
"You need to see a doctor," he interrupted firmly. "Why aren't you at a clinic?"
"I don't need a clinic. I need—" Another wave of dizziness hit.
"I'm here for a medical conference," he said, guiding me slowly down the hallway. "West Coast werewolf medical symposium, three days. But right now, I'm getting you back before you collapse."
We reached the restaurant entrance, where Linda was stepping out, clearly looking for me. The moment she saw Evan, she froze completely, her face draining of all color.
"Linda?" I said, confused.
But Linda wasn't looking at me. She was staring at Evan like she'd seen a ghost, her eyes wide with horror mixed with something raw and painful.
Evan had gone equally still, his arm around my waist but his entire focus now on Linda. His throat worked as he swallowed hard, light green eyes locked on her face with an intensity I'd never seen from him.
"Linda," he said, and his voice cracked slightly on her name.
We stood frozen in the hallway, the air thick with tension. Linda took a step backward, her hand coming up as if to ward him off, her whole body trembling.
"I need to—" She couldn't finish. "Violet, I'll meet you back at the table."
She turned and fled back into the restaurant, almost running. Evan made an aborted movement to follow, then stopped, jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping.
"You know each other," I said quietly. It wasn't a question.
He nodded once, sharply, still staring where Linda had disappeared. His eyes held a pain I'd never seen before, raw and desperate and quickly shuttered.
"I should get you back to your dinner," he said, voice carefully neutral now. "You need to sit down."
He helped me back to the table where Linda and Ashton were already deep in conversation about contract terms, though Linda's voice had a brittle quality that hadn't been there before. Evan left without another word.
The rest of the dinner passed in a blur. Linda was distracted, missing questions and giving delayed responses. By the end we'd failed to close several key negotiation points. Ashton was understanding, suggesting we reconvene the next day, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes.
Back at the hotel, Linda walked me to my room without speaking. At my door, she paused, her hand raised as if to knock even though it was my room, her whole body screaming that she wanted to say something.
"Goodnight, Violet," she finally said, voice rough. "Get some rest."
She turned to leave, but I caught her arm gently. "Linda, are you okay?"
A suspicion was forming in my mind—could Linda and Evan have had some kind of history together? But Evan had never had a girlfriend, as far as I knew. Even Aurora, when he'd started to develop feelings for her, had ended up with Daemon instead.
I looked at Linda's heavy expression, my heart uneasy. "Is there... something between you and him? Some kind of problem?"