25

MORTICIA'S POV

The sun had not risen yet, but the golden rays that passed through the thin window curtains already illuminated the room, casting soft light areas on the wooden floor. I lay in my bed, watching the ceiling and reliving what happened last night.

My fingers lightly touched my lips, still warm from the memory of Jake's kiss. It wasn’t a dream — I knew that much. Still, that weight buzzed as if the sound of the bell, following its ringing and reverberating, was not over yet.

I should feel embarrassed. No — I do feel embarrassed. I kissed him. I kissed him.

He kissed me at that precise instant, and at that very instant, he kissed me again.

But then he stopped.

He drew away as if it was wrong, something that should not have occurred.

I groaned, covering my face with a pillow. Why did I have to kiss him? It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. We were friends. Nothing more. The same thought went over and over in my mind, yet my heart had a life of its own. And now, everything would be awkward.

Would he avoid me? Would he pretend it didn’t happen?

My stomach twisted at the thought. I didn’t want things to change between us. Jake was the only person I could talk to. Jacob was distant, Brianna was an unwelcome shadow, and Father only cared about the "perfect image" I was supposed to uphold. Jake was the only one who saw me.

But now, I’d gone and ruined it.

I sat up, running my hands through my hair. I still had the impression of his hands on my face, that gentle, comforting touch of his thumb brushing my cheek. Stop thinking about it, Morticia.

I needed to do something—anything—to stop my thoughts from spiraling.

Later That Morning

The palace was unusually quiet. Servants ran swiftly, their feet making hardly a sound. Normally, I would not have looked around, but today I was more focused than ever on the world around me: every creak of the floor, every rustle of fabric.

I sat by the large window in the sitting room, a book open on my lap. I’d been staring at the same page for nearly an hour, but I hadn’t read a single sentence. My gaze followed the movement of words on the page, but my mind repeatedly returned to him.

His voice. His eyes. His touch.

“Ugh,” I said, slamming the book shut. A few maids glanced my way, their eyes wide with concern, but I waved them off.

I pressed my forehead against the cold glass pane of the window and closed my eyes. I needed to stop thinking about him. However, how do you stop thinking of someone when every time you are silent, you get lost in your head?

The garden below looked peaceful, with flowers swaying gently in the breeze. I used to enjoy being down there—sunshine on my face and the smell of manure in the air—but recently it began to feel more like a prison than an oasis.

Brianna was probably there right now. She had this habit of "supervising" the maids as if she were already queen. I didn't want to deal with her today because I was too ill to smile; instead, I pretended all was well.

The soft sound of footsteps approached from behind me. I didn't have to turn around to guess who it was.

“Lady Morticia,” a maid said softly. “Would you like some tea?”

I nodded, forcing a smile. “Yes, please.”

She curtsied and left quietly.

Tea will help. Tea always helps.

★

The hours slipped by slowly as I wandered through the palace, desperately trying to puzzle my way through my thoughts. I visited the library, but nothing caught my attention. I found a place of comfort by the fountain in the courtyard and dreamed that perhaps the flow of ponded water would screen my babbling thoughts like a stream—but it didn’t.

Eventually, I ended up in the art room. It wasn’t grand, but it was mine—a long narrow room confined at one end of one of the lesser-traveled corridors. The smell of paint and parchment greeted me, and I felt the first flicker of peace I’d had all day.

I put a plain canvas on the easel. My fingers lightly rested on an array of paints, confused about which colors to apply. Normally, I painted flowers, landscapes, or portraits; but today, nothing came to mind.

In contrast to my usual subjects, I took up a brush and wetted it with a very deep red. I didn’t plan; I didn’t think—I just let the brush move across the canvas: long sweeping strokes and sharp jagged lines followed next as black then gray joined in. My hands moved faster and faster—the paintbrush became a marionette to my whim.

I wasn’t painting anything in particular—just letting everything out: all the confusion and all the ache in my chest.

I stopped only when a tear dripped from my eye, traced itself down my cheek, and soaked deep into the wet paint right next to it.

I wiped my face quickly. No tears—no tears! Tears never solved anything; they did not alter the truth that Jacob did not care about me or stop Brianna from invading my space. Tears only cleaned away the feeling of Jake's lips touching my flesh.

I set down the brush and stepped back to look at what I’d made: a chaotic mess of colors—deep reds and grays with sharp black edges piercing through it—all reflecting how chaotic I felt inside.

I lay down and brought my knees close to my body; my heart felt heavy and powerless as if I were stuck here—restricted to a life that seemed too primitive.

Evening Time

Dinner was quiet—too quiet.

Jacob wasn’t there; he hadn’t been around all day—and when I’d asked a servant about him, she told me he was busy with “Beta duties.”

Of course—Beta duties! The excuse he always made when he would be out of sight for hours! But now I knew better; he was going somewhere—and he would keep going somewhere.

Brianna had also disappeared—which was no surprise; those two had a habit of vanishing at the same time. I wondered if anyone else noticed or if I was just the only fool paying attention.

I pushed my plate away suddenly—not hungry anymore—the stew tasted fine but everything felt bland lately.

“Shall I take away your plate, Lady Morticia?” a maid queried.

“Yes, thank you,” I replied in a small voice as I got up from my seat.

I didn’t want to be here anymore.

Jake’s POV

The palace halls were dimly lit by the warm glow of lamps creating long shadows on the walls. I backed myself against a masonry wall, shut my eyes tightly, and tried to hold back all rumination from flooding in.

I shouldn't have kissed her.

No—she kissed me!

But then again—I reciprocated that kiss; that became my anchor.

I ran a hand over my face and exhaled sharply; she was Jacob’s fiancée—his future Luna! Yet no matter how stupid this whole thing felt—I should not have crossed that line!

I told myself it wouldn’t happen again—I would keep my distance: no more secret looks; no more late-night talks in the garden—it had to end!

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hall; when my heart started racing again—I remained motionless in darkness until Morticia passed by—my eyes followed her as she walked with her head bowed and arms tucked in close against herself.

Guilt clawed at my chest as she looked so small—so alone!

I fought against calling out to her—to tell her everything would be fine—but stayed quiet instead: You have to stay away from her Jake—you have to.

I didn't budge until she was out of view before pushing myself away from that wall—the weight on my shoulders felt heavier than usual! Those rogue attacks were becoming more frequent; there was mounting pressure on our pack for protection—and now this.

Jacob’s fiancée...

As I got closer to the war room—I tried to understand all these reports—the rogue we captured yesterday wouldn’t speak—and now our men were starting to get impatient—they wanted blood.

“Alpha,” a guardsman said as I approached hat the e door’s edge.

Nodding at him—I hardened my face into that mask of authority perfected over years—I had to stay focused—the pack came first! The pack always came first.

Ye,t while sitting at the d table looking over those reports—my mind departed reality—it manifested itself again—I saw her face—her smile—her sad eyes.

Dumping papers before guards—I grumbled “Get lost!” They stepped out without question.

Lying down—I closed my eyes again—and when silence fell once more—I buried my face behind my hands.

Stay away from her Jake...

Those words repeated like commands—as if an order meant for obeying—but somehow...my heart wasn’t listening.