Chapter 19 Broken Vows
Edmund’s POV
The pack house was noisy again. Too noisy. Everyone was running around preparing for the wedding, laughing, smiling, humming like everything was perfect.
Like we hadn’t been invaded. Like my son hadn’t died. Like Isabella hadn’t—
I clenched my jaw.
No. I wasn’t thinking about her.
I refused to.
I walked through the main hall, ignoring the bows from passing omegas. Everywhere I looked, white ribbons and woven flowers hung from the beams. The elders said it symbolized “new beginnings.”
Maybe it did. Maybe Evergreen needed a new beginning. But all I saw was a reminder of how quickly everything had changed.
And how fast Isabella had vanished.
Coward.
The word burned in my head.
She left. She actually left. She didn’t even stay to bury Magnus.
She didn’t bother to stay for me.
Not that it mattered.
She... she rejected me the night she caught me with Clara. I only said the words first...
Yes... I'm the one who rejected her but...
Whatever.
I never truly saw her as my Luna anyway—not with that distant look in her eyes, not with her restless spirit, not with her cold, warrior heart.
She hadn’t loved me in a long time.
So why was she still haunting me?
“Alpha Edmund,” an elder called from across the hall. “We need your approval on the seating arrangement for the ceremony.”
“Later,” I muttered. “Handle it yourselves.”
He bowed but I could sense the judgment behind his lowered eyes. They all judged me. They all thought I moved on too fast. But what did they expect? For me to sit in a room and mourn forever? For me to wait for a Luna who abandoned her pack?
If Isabella cared, she would’ve stayed. She would’ve fought. She would’ve chosen me. She didn’t.
“Edmund?” a soft voice called.
Clara.
I turned, and there she was standing in the doorway of our shared chamber. The soft lantern glow behind her made her look even gentler, sweeter. Her long beautiful hair fell over one shoulder and she wore a pale nightgown that hugged her curves just right.
She didn’t look like a threat. She didn’t look like someone who could betray a soul. She looked like peace.
Unlike Isabella.
Clara walked up to me with a small smile. “You look tired.”
“I’m fine,” I said. But the moment her hand touched my arm, my chest loosened. “Just a lot of work.”
“Tired Alpha,” she said softly, brushing a loose strand of hair off my forehead. “Come rest. The pack is stable again. They don’t need you right now. I do.”
Her voice did something to me. Soft. Calming. Like a lullaby that quieted the storms in my head.
“I can’t stop thinking about the wedding,” she whispered, her cheeks warming. “I want everything to be perfect for you.”
For me.
Someone actually wanted to please me. To care for me. To stay.
Isabella never made me feel that way. With her, everything felt like duty, responsibility, command. With Clara… it was different. Simple. Easy. She looked at me like I was worth something again.
“Edmund,” she said quietly, stepping closer, “do you regret choosing me?”
I reached out and took her hand, pulling her into my chest. “No,” I said. “I don’t regret anything.”
She exhaled shakily, relief flooding her features.
Good.
She needed to know she wasn’t a replacement… even if part of me still felt the gaps Isabella left behind. No. No more of that. Isabella was gone. Dead, probably. Or worse—living somewhere without a single thought of me or Magnus or this pack.
“That woman…” I muttered under my breath before I could stop myself. “She caused nothing but chaos and now she’s run off like a coward.”
Clara tensed slightly in my arms, but then relaxed again. “Don’t speak of her,” she whispered sweetly, kissing my chest through my shirt. “She doesn’t deserve space in your mind. I’m here. I’m staying. I won’t ever leave you.”
Her words soothed me in a way I didn’t want to admit.
I lifted her chin and kissed her.
Soft at first. Then deeper.
Clara gasped against my mouth, wrapping her arms around my neck. Her body pressed into mine, warm and welcoming. She melted into me like she was made for me, like she was the answer to every ache Isabella ever caused. Her fingers tangled in my hair and I felt my control snapping thread by thread.
She wasn’t Isabella.
She wasn’t cold.
She wasn’t distant.
She didn’t look at me like I was never enough.
Clara wanted me.
I kissed her again, harder this time, letting all the frustration, anger and confusion pour out through the movement. She responded with a soft moan, guiding us backward into the chamber.
The door closed behind us.
Clara pressed her lips to my throat, whispering, “You deserve love, Edmund… not rejection. Let me give you what she never could.”
Her hands were already working at the buttons of my shirt, her touch light but insistent, as if she could sense the storm raging inside me and wanted to tame it with her warmth.
I didn't stop her.
I couldn't.
Not when her eyes held mine with that unwavering trust, so different from the guarded stares I'd grown used to.
I backed her toward the bed, my fingers tracing the curve of her waist through the thin fabric of her nightgown. The material was soft, almost sheer in the light, hinting at the full swell of her breasts and the gentle dip of her hips.
She was all softness where Isabella had been sharp edges...
"Edmund," she breathed, her voice a whisper that cut through the fog in my mind. Her lips parted as I claimed them again, this time with a hunger that surprised even me.
My tongue swept into her mouth, tasting the sweetness of her, and she arched against me, a soft whimper escaping her.
I pulled back just enough to lift her nightgown over her head, letting it pool on the floor. Her skin glowed in the dim light, pale and flawless, her nipples hardening under my gaze. She didn't shy away; instead, she reached for me, tugging my shirt free and pressing her bare chest to mine.
The contact sent a jolt through me... her warmth seeping into my skin, chasing away the chill of memories I'd rather forget.
We tumbled onto the bed together.
Clara's legs parted instinctively as I settled between them, my hands roaming her body. I cupped her breast, thumb brushing over the peak, and she gasped, her hips lifting to meet mine.
Through my trousers, I could feel the heat of her pussy, already damp and ready, pressing against the growing hardness of my cock.
"I need you," I murmured against her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there. It wasn't just lust—it was desperation, a need to fill the void Isabella had carved out.
Clara's fingers dug into my shoulders, urging me on as I kissed my way down her body. Her scent filled my senses, musky and inviting, and I parted her thighs wider, settling my mouth over her core.
She cried out as my tongue flicked against her clit, circling the swollen nub with deliberate strokes. Her hands fisted in the sheets, body trembling as I licked her folds, tasting her arousal.
Wetness coated my lips, and I delved deeper, thrusting my tongue inside her pussy, feeling her walls clench around it. "Edmund... oh moon goodness," she moaned, her voice breaking with emotion.
I didn't rush. I savored her, drawing out every gasp, every quiver, until she was writhing beneath me, her breaths coming in short, desperate pants.
Rising up, I shed the rest of my clothes, my cock springing free, thick and aching. Clara's gaze dropped to it, her hand reaching out to wrap around the shaft, stroking slowly.
Her touch was gentle, exploratory, but it ignited something fierce in me. I positioned myself at her entrance, the tip nudging her slick folds. "Look at me," I said, voice rough.
She did, her eyes locking onto mine as I pushed inside. Inch by inch, I filled her, her pussy stretching to take me, warm and tight. We both groaned at the sensation—her walls gripping me like she never wanted to let go.
I started moving, slow thrusts at first, savoring the way she enveloped me, the way her body responded to every roll of my hips.
But the pace quickened, driven by the ache in my chest. I fucked her harder, deeper, each snap of my hips a release of the pain I'd bottled up.
Clara met me thrust for thrust, her nails raking down my back, legs wrapping around my waist to pull me closer. "You're mine," she whispered, her voice fierce despite its softness. "All of you. Let it go."
Her words undid me. I buried my face in her neck, inhaling her scent as I drove into her, the bed creaking under us.
Sweat slicked our skin, our bodies slapping together in a rhythm that drowned out everything else—the wedding preparations, the ghosts of the past, the empty ache of loss.
When I came, it was with a guttural roar, spilling deep inside her, my cock pulsing as I filled her with my seed. She followed moments later, her pussy clenching around me, milking every drop as waves of pleasure tore through her.
We collapsed together, tangled and spent, her head on my chest as our heartbeats slowed to match.
Clara traced lazy patterns on my skin, her touch grounding me.
"I love you," she said simply, no demands, no expectations—just truth.
I held her tighter, the words sticking in my throat. But in that moment, with her body still humming against mine, I believed it was possible.
Possible to start all over again.
I didn't need Isabella. Never!
I had Clara, and she was all that mattered to me now.