LUKAS’S POV
I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Selenea sat there on the edge of the bed, the breakfast tray shoved aside, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders like ink against the pale sheets. The morning light caught her profile—sharp cheekbones, full lips parted just enough to tease me—and my chest tightened. She was different. Not like Freya, with her cruel laughs and sharper lies, or the ghosts of friends she’d buried with her father’s power.
Selenea was soft and fierce all at once, a puzzle I couldn’t stop trying to solve. I’d sworn off women after Freya—her betrayal had carved that curse deep, a wound I’d nursed alone—but Selenea slipped past every wall I’d built. I liked her. Too much.
She stared at nothing, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt, lost somewhere I couldn’t
