Raine Pov
I pushed open the guest restroom door and shut it behind me. Locked it.
My hands gripped the marble edge of the sink as I stared at myself in the mirror.
I looked like no Luna.
I looked like a lie.
My chest heaved as I tried to breathe around the tightness, the heat, the shame—
The memory.
His voice still clawed at my skin.
"Anything that switches beds."
I bit my lip hard. I wouldn't cry. I wouldn't.
I gripped the porcelain harder like it was the only thing tethering me to the ground. My reflection stared back, all heat and shame and bruised pride.
Then I felt him.
Before he spoke. Before the lock slid back into place.
The energy shifted, like the room exhaled and froze in the same breath.
"Running again?"
Silas's voice. That dark rasp. Filthy. Smooth. Cut from something ancient.
I turned slowly, heartbeat choking me as I met his reflection behind me. He stood just inside the door, his black shirt rolled at the sleeves, veins carved down forearms that flexed with effortless tension. Cold eyes, darker now.
His mouth curved.
"I expected more from the Luna."
"Don't," I breathed.
"Don't what?"
"Don't start something you're not man enough to finish."
He laughed low—like it was funny. Like I hadn't just set fire to the space between us.
Silas took one step, then another, until I could feel the heat of his body at my back. Still not touching. Never touching. Just heat. Breath.
His lips were at my ear when he whispered, "You remember the way I used to fuck you, Raine?"
I gasped. My fingers trembled around the edge of the sink.
"Bent over the edge of a bath like this one," he continued. "Crying my name while I made your body forget every reason you ever told yourself I was wrong for you."
I clenched my thighs together. Gods.
He smiled like he smelled the shift in my breath.
"You don't even need my hands, do you?" he murmured, slow, cruel. "All it takes is my voice in your ear and that tight little body of yours starts remembering."
My skin felt too hot. My dress clung to me in all the wrong places. I couldn't look at him.
But he wasn't done.
"That spot right above your navel? Where I used to press my palm when I had you pinned under me?" He leaned closer, lips grazing my neck without touching. "Still tingling?"
I closed my eyes. My mouth parted. And I hated him for knowing.
"Say his name," Silas whispered. "Say my father's name. Say he makes you wet. Say he knows what to do with you."
I couldn't. The words wouldn't come.
He exhaled, a slow, hot breath against the shell of my ear.
"That's what I thought."
I wanted to slap him. I wanted to drag him into me and taste the ruin we'd left behind. I wanted to hate him with my whole body.
Instead, I stayed still, trembling.
"Tell me Raine...." He drawled Low " Does he even know what you sound like when you're close?... does he know what to do with that that c**t?
I low gasp escaped my lips.
"I could make you come without even laying a finger on you," he said. "Right here. Right now."
"Why won't you then?" I rasped, not knowing what came over me.
His voice was pure weapon now.
He chuckled low, dark.
"Because you don't deserve it."
That made my breath catch. My throat locked.
He finally touched me—one finger, under my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes in the mirror.
"I want you to look at yourself like this," he whispered. "Eyes glazed. Lips trembling. Legs aching. And know you did this to yourself. Just by wanting me."
I swallowed hard.
He released me. Stepped back.
And I nearly collapsed from the absence.
"I just wanted to remind you," he said, already walking away. "What it feels like to be truly seen."
Then he left.
The door closed.
And I shattered in silence I could only stare at myself unraveling in the mirror.
"""'"
Silas – POV
She walked back into the room like nothing happened.
Hair slightly mussed. Pulse still fluttering beneath the pale skin of her throat.
But her eyes—those traitorous fucking eyes—wouldn't stop trembling. Not even when she smiled at my father like a good little Luna.
I saw it. The shift. The unraveling beneath the pretty mask.
She sat beside Damon again. Smiled. Laughed, even. And when he placed a hand on her thigh under the table, she didn't flinch.
But she didn't lean into it either.
Not like she used to lean into me.
I turned my glass in my hand, silver eyes narrowed.
Delilah—gods, fucking Delilah—leaned in again. This time her hand grazed my arm, her wine-slicked lips inches from my ear.
"You look bored," she whispered. "I could fix that."
I didn't look at her. Didn't breathe in her scent. I didn't need to.
"I doubt it," I replied.
Her giggle was high and desperate. Too practiced. Too eager. She leaned further, brushing her chest against my arm. "You haven't changed, have you? Still brooding. Still so... powerful."
Raine's head snapped subtly in our direction.
Good.
I kept my gaze on the centerpiece. My voice was smooth. Calm. Deadly.
"You should stop touching me, Delilah. It gives people hope."
She blinked. Still smiling, but her hand froze on my bicep.
"I like hope," she said, breathy.
"Then you're dumber than you look."
Delilah blinked. Her mouth opened, but before she could respond, my gaze flicked across the table.
To her.
Raine.
She laughed at something Damon said. Loudly. Leaned closer to him until her mouth nearly brushed his ear.
He said something back—low. Her eyes flicked to me while she smiled and placed her hand on his chest. Deliberate.
Calculated.
My jaw flexed. Slowly. My wolf stirred.
She thinks she can play this game. Pretend I didn't just have her trembling against a mirror, dripping for me without a single touch. Pretend Damon made her wet.
I let Delilah trail her fingers across my forearm again.
"You want me to get on my knees under the table?" she whispered.
I turned my head finally, and let my eyes drag over her slowly. Her cleavage. Her throat. Her lips. I watched her squirm under it, waiting for something filthy to drip from my tongue.
Then I spoke, cold and low.
"You'd choke on it before you earned it."
Delilah gasped softly, cheeks pink. "Is that a challenge?"
"No. It's mercy."
I watched Raine shift. Her grip on her fork tightened. Her lips tightened around her next sip of wine.
She was unraveling again.
Good.
She needed to remember what pretending looked like from the outside.
Damon turned to her and brushed a strand of hair from her face. She giggled. Fucking giggled. Then her mouth found his ear again and she whispered something that made his brow lift.
I didn't flinch. Didn't move.
I just watched her. Every breath. Every fake smile. Every flick of those burning eyes.
She thinks she can unmake me.
She thinks she can crawl into another man's lap and forget the taste of mine.
Let her try.
Let her dance in the fire she set.
But when she burns, she'll remember who struck the match.