Chapter 28 A kiss for breakfast
I woke with a scream lodged in my throat, my body drenched in cold sweat. The room was dim, the soft orange of dawn bleeding through the thin curtains. My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my fingertips. It was the same nightmare again. The same blood. The same voice.
My father’s.
Only this time, when I turned, it wasn’t the faceless darkness that held the blade, it was Darius. His molten eyes glowed in the dream just as they had in the Council chamber, fierce and unyielding. I could still see the flash of steel, the sound of my father’s voice choking on his last breath, and Darius’s expression, void of regret.
Even awake, the memory refused to let me go.
I pushed the blankets away and sat up, my breath uneven, my hair clinging to my damp skin. My body ached from restless sleep, and my head throbbed from memories that weren’t even certain anymore. I didn’t know what was truth or nightmare, only that every time I closed my eyes, Darius’s face merged with my father’s death.
I needed to get out of this room.
The mansion was quiet when I stepped into the corridor. The marble floors gleamed, cold beneath my bare feet. I followed the faint sound of clattering dishes and humming until I reached the kitchen. The scent of freshly baked bread and roasted coffee wrapped around me, grounding me.
Mr. Bernard, ever-composed, stood near the counter with his sleeves rolled up, organizing trays of fruit while a few servants moved efficiently around him. He looked up when he saw me and smiled, his eyes softening.
“Good morning, miss,” he said. “You’re up early.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” I murmured, stepping further into the kitchen. “I thought maybe I could help.”
The servants froze for a moment, startled, then quickly resumed their work. It must have been strange to see someone like me, someone the Alpha called his Luna, offering to help with breakfast.
Mr. Bernard tilted his head. “Help, you say? I can’t imagine the Luna cooking in the kitchen.”
I stiffened. “Don’t call me that.”
He only chuckled softly, as if he hadn’t noticed my sharp tone. “Old habits. Forgive me.”
I walked toward the counter, my fingers brushing over the cool surface. “You can give me something small to do,” I said. “I’m not helpless.”
He smiled at that, an amused, almost fatherly expression. “Very well. The bread is almost done. You can slice the fruit if you’d like.”
I nodded and grabbed a knife. The simple rhythm of cutting apples and strawberries soothed me. For a little while, I didn’t think about Darius or nightmares or the bond that burned beneath my skin. I thought only about the soft sound of fruit meeting blade and the faint hum of the ocean outside.
Mr. Bernard made a dry remark about Darius’s tendency to skip breakfast and live off black coffee.
“I can imagine that,” I said. “He doesn’t strike me as the warm-meal type.”
Mr. Bernard laughed. “He’s not. Though he’d probably eat the entire kitchen if it pleased you.”
The words caught me off guard. I chuckled before I could stop myself. I looked up sharply, but he only winked. “I’ve seen that look before,” he said. “The Alpha’s not used to anyone challenging him. You confuse him, miss.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. So I didn’t say anything.
The sound of footsteps on the marble made my stomach twist. I didn’t need to turn to know who it was, the air changed when he entered a room, charged and heavy, like the atmosphere before a storm.
Darius walked into the kitchen dressed casually in dark jeans and a black shirt rolled to his elbows. Even dressed simply, he looked impossibly composed. His eyes flicked to me, lingering a moment too long.
“Morning,” he said, his voice low, rough with sleep.
“Morning,” I replied quietly, focusing on the fruit instead of the man.
Mr. Bernard cleared his throat politely. “Alpha, I didn’t expect you this early.”
Darius smirked faintly. “I couldn’t sleep.” His gaze shifted back to me, and I felt the weight of it settle over my skin. “I heard noise in the kitchen. Thought maybe my staff had been invaded.”
I didn’t look up. “Just me,” I said dryly. “Figured I’d be useful for once.”
His tone softened slightly. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
He came closer, the scent of cedar and clean smoke surrounding him. I stiffened when he reached past me, his hand brushing mine as he picked up a slice of apple. He bit into it, his eyes still on me.
“Sweet,” he said. “Good choice.”
I forced myself to keep my tone steady. “It’s just fruit.”
He smirked. “Not everything has to be complicated, Lyra.”
The way he said my name sent a ripple through me, unwanted, but impossible to ignore. I could feel his gaze tracing over me, lingering on the faint marks at the base of my neck that I had tried to cover. I stepped back, my heart hammering, pretending to look for something in the drawers.
Mr. Bernard, wise enough to sense the tension, excused himself with a quiet nod and disappeared through the side door. The silence he left behind felt sharp.
“You’re different this morning,” Darius said after a while.
“Am I?”
“You laughed.”
I looked up at him then, frowning slightly. “You were eavesdropping?”
He smiled, and for a fleeting second it wasn’t cruel it was warm. Disarming. “I don’t need to eavesdrop. Your laugh carries.”
Something in my chest fluttered, traitorous and unwelcome. I forced a shrug. “Don’t get used to it.”
He took another step closer. “I’d like to.”
I froze. He was too close now. The air between us buzzed like a live wire. My instincts screamed to move away, but my body didn’t obey.
Then, before I could speak, he leaned in and brushed his lips against mine, a slow, unhurried kiss that tasted faintly of fruit and danger.
It wasn’t deep, but it burned all the same. My pulse jumped, my breath catching as I stood frozen in place. His hand came up to brush my jaw, gentle but possessive. For a second, I almost melted into it, almost.
Then the memory of my nightmare hit me like ice water. My father’s voice. His blood. Darius’s face.
I pulled back, my voice sharp. “Don’t.”
He studied me, his golden eyes unreadable. “You didn’t pull away immediately,” he murmured.
“I froze,” I hissed. “That’s not the same.”
His jaw flexed, but he didn’t push. Instead, he exhaled slowly and stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “You should eat,” he said quietly, almost as if nothing had happened. “You’re still healing.”
He turned and left without another word.
The kitchen felt suddenly colder, emptier.
I stood there for a long time, staring at the space he had occupied. My lips still tingled. My heart still raced. I hated it. I hated that he could make me feel anything other than disgust.
When I finally sat down, the food tasted like ash in my mouth.
That night, I lay awake long after the lights went out, the sound of waves outside the window mingling with the storm in my chest. Every time I closed my eyes, I could still feel his kiss, gentle but claiming, warm but suffocating.
And the worst part?
Even though every rational part of me screamed to forget it, my heart betrayed me with one truth I couldn’t deny.
For the first time since meeting Darius, I wasn’t sure if I hated him… or if I was starting to hate myself for not hating him enough.
Why did it have to be this way? Why did my body betray me, reacting to his touch despite everything he had done?
I turned onto my side, clutching the pillow tightly. The bond was too strong, too powerful to ignore. It was pulling me in, making me question everything. But I couldn’t let it win. I had to stay focused, keep my goal in sight.
Escape.