6. Games We Play

Killian

The ballroom glowed with warmth and music, filled with laughter and clinking glasses. Wolves danced, drank, and celebrated like it was the last night on earth.

And yet, I felt nothing. The night was supposed to be me choosing my mate, my Luna, but how could I when the one person I wanted didn't want me?

But what was with her bad playing games with me? Did she think that I couldn't get over her because I loved her?

I moved from group to group, my face split into a forced smile. I greeted my guests, nodded at elders, exchanged shallow pleasantries with acquaintances and with every female that brushed too close, every hopeful Luna candidate with perfectly painted lips and sparkly eyes. It all blurred. I wasn't with them.

…because I was watching the damn door.

Waiting for her. 

Lyra.

Hoping that she had been serious about wanting me.

The woman who once turned me away as if I was unworthy, was the same woman who now claimed she wanted to be my Luna. And despite everything, my wolf stirred every time I imagined her walking back in. Whenever I imagined her professing her love for me the way she had done for that man.

But minutes passed. Then an hour.

No Lyra. She didn't come to find me. It had all been a joke… again.

“Alpha Killian,” a woman purred beside me… Clara? Cara? Cora? I wasn't sure and I didn’t care. She slipped her hand into the crook of my elbow, leaning in far too close. “You have been quiet tonight. Far too withdrawn from your own ceremony.”

I looked down at her with a polite smile. “Just tired.”

She didn’t let go. “Perhaps I can help with that?”

Gods.

Every nerve in my body wanted to snap. I turned away abruptly. 

“Excuse me.”

My feet moved of their own accord, weaving through guests, passing dancers and council members. I pushed open the back doors of the mansion and stepped into the night air.

The crisp wind cut through the heat swirling in my chest. I followed the stone path behind the house… and then froze.

There she was. The woman of my dreams. The woman I dreamt of every night. Every damned single night.

Lyra.

Standing beneath the garden lights, her golden hair catching the moonlight, her back slightly tense.

And right in front of her… Damon. The man she loved. The man she lived for.

My blood turned to ice.

He was close. Too close for my comfort.

His hand on her arm, his mouth running, his damn eyes watching her like she was his.

I had heard her say she left him. She said it was over. She said she wanted me. She had said she wanted to be my Luna.

And here she was.

Again.

Talking to him. Too close to him and she wasn't pushing him away.

I clenched my jaw and stepped back before they could notice me. My vision narrowed. My breath was shallow. I didn’t wait to hear what she was saying because I knew how this story went.

She would always go back to him because it had always been him.

I stalked back to the party, shoving the doors open harder than I meant to. The music and the smell of different smells of perfumes hit me again, suffocating.

Fine.

If she wanted to play games, so could I.

I found the first woman that looked remotely interested. Tall, curvy, pretty in the sort of way that made people turn heads. She wore red. Bright, blood red.

“You.” I pointed at her.

She blinked. “Alpha?”

“Come. Walk with me.”

A surprised smile tugged at her lips. “Of course, alpha.”

I didn’t even know her name. Didn’t care.

I didn’t want her anyway. I just wanted Lyra to see. See that she wasn’t the only one who could move on. That I didn’t need her. That her promises meant nothing now. That I had moved on away from her.

Though at this moment, I wasn't sure who I was trying to convince. Her or me.

We passed guests, whispers trailing in our wake. I led her out toward the back, the same way I had seen Lyra and that man.

I hoped she would be there. I hoped she would see. I hoped she would hear me whisper sweet nothings to a woman whose name I didn't even know.

But then…

A sharp scream tore through the night.

Damon.

I froze mid-step, instincts kicking in.

Then another sound. A heavy thud. Followed by what could only be a body slamming into something hard… and then laughter.

Hers.

Lyra’s.

Low, triumphant. Wild.

I took two steps forward and found the scene just in view through the trees.

Lyra stood alone now.

Damon was sprawled on the grass, groaning, holding his ribs.

She had thrown him?

My chest swelled. 

She didn’t go back to him?

She fought him.

Was I seeing things? Was it all true or was I hallucinating so as to hide my pain?

But whether it was true or not, that flicker of rage in me… the one that had dragged another woman out here in some foolish attempt at revenge, snuffed out like a flame in the wind.

I turned around, brushing past the girl in red without a word.

“What…?” she started.

I didn’t stop walking.

Back into the party. Back to my own damn head. I should have known better. Lyra wasn’t like other wolves. She never had been.

And now… now she was different. Stronger. More dangerous. And more mine than ever. But even if she wanted me, even if she wanted it… I wouldn’t go to her yet.

Let her burn for me the way I had burned for her. Let her fight for me.

Let her prove it.

Because if she meant it, if she truly meant to be mine this time, then she would come back.

And when she did…

I wouldn’t let her go.

I wanted to make sure that she meant it when she said that she wanted me.