LUCIEN
The living room was quiet except for the occasional crackle of the fireplace. I sat on the edge of the couch, staring at the flames as they danced and licked the charred wood, their golden hues oddly soothing. But my mind was far from calm. It circled back, again and again, to the Luna mark that had appeared on Olivia after our kiss.
Why now? I asked myself for the hundredth time, tracing the rim of the glass of whiskey in my hand.
“Because she’s yours, i***t,” my wolf snarled in my head, his voice rough and biting as always. “Stop overthinking it.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” I countered, leaning back against the couch. “She has another mate, and the bond with Damon is still intact.”
“And yet,” he sneered, “the mark is there. On her. Because of you. What does that tell you?”
I d
