Luca's private quarters, DeLuca Estate – Late Night
The corridors were quiet as Luca carried Adunni through the halls. Every flickering torch and shadowed painting bore witness to a moment he hadn't prepared for—a feeling he'd trained his heart to resist.
She was warm in his arms, but her scent had changed. Wilder. Older. Ancestral. It stirred something deeper in him than desire—something that felt terrifyingly like destiny.
He pushed open the door to his private chambers, a place he hadn't shared with anyone in years. The room was dark stone and rich velvet, large windows framing the blood-hued moon still lingering in the sky.
He laid her gently on the bed.
Adunni stirred, eyes fluttering open. "Where are we?"
"My room," he said softly, brushing damp curls from her brow. "You were fading. I didn't want you alone."
She sat up slowly, spine still tingling from the aftershock of the ritual. "I saw things. My grandmother. The moon goddess. My bones still feel like they're vibrating."
Luca knelt beside the bed, searching her face. "You shifted into something the world hasn't seen in centuries. Your grandmother's blood, the gods' touch, and a power none of us fully understand."
She looked away. "Does it scare you?"
"Yes," he whispered honestly. "But not the way you think."
Her gaze snapped back to his, startled. "Then how?"
"It scares me that you're not mine to keep. That the more I learn about you, the more I realize you were born to burn bright—for everyone. Not just me."
Silence bloomed between them, heavy with unsaid feelings.
Then Adunni reached for him. Fingers curling into the collar of his shirt.
"I don't want to be a symbol tonight. Or a prophecy. Or a hybrid messiah. I want to be just... me. With you."
He froze. She leaned forward, brushing her lips against his jaw—lightly, barely a breath. It was an invitation, not a demand.
Luca's resolve cracked like glass under pressure.
"Are you sure, you want to right now?" he said, voice raw.
She kissed the corner of his mouth. "Yes."
His mouth met hers with a quiet urgency, as though he'd been holding back for lifetimes. The kiss deepened—hungry, reverent, filled with the weight of who they were and everything they could never say aloud.
He lifted her gently, laying her down fully onto his bed, his body above hers but never pushing. One hand rested over her heart, and he could feel it racing beneath his palm.
His mouth was on hers in a heartbeat, hot and demanding. She responded instantly, arching into him, threading her fingers into his hair and tugging him closer. There was no hesitation, no more space between them—just the burn of skin against skin.
He peeled her sweater away, revealing her caramel curves. She gasped as his mouth moved lower, worshipping her collarbone, the slope of her breasts, the line of her stomach. Her body trembled under him, but not from fear.
From want.
She tugged at his belt, and he let her undress him—piece by piece—until all that remained were bare truths between them.
"You're shaking," she whispered, tracing the scars across his chest.
"So are you," he murmured back, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to her wrist.
Their mouths met again, deeper now, as his fingers found the heat between her thighs. She gasped into his kiss, hips lifting as he explored her slowly—thoroughly—until she was moaning softly, her breath ragged against his skin.
"Luca…"
He pushed inside her with reverence and raw need, burying his face in her neck as they moved together. She wrapped around him like fire, like fate, like every secret he'd sworn never to speak aloud.
They made love in silence, save for the whispered names, the ragged breaths, the soft cries that filled the dark. His hands gripped her thighs. Her nails scored his back. And when she shattered around him, he followed—hard, desperate, undone.
The afterglow was quiet, but not empty.
She lay in his arms.
Their bodies aligned, their breath slowed, and the night folded around them—not as alpha and hybrid, not as fated legends—but as two souls desperate for something real.
Later, as the fire burned low and the first grey hint of dawn kissed the sky, Luca held her against his chest. She was already drifting into sleep again, fingers curled in the soft fabric at his side.
He stared at the ceiling.
And whispered into the silence, "If fate comes for you... it'll have to go through me first."
Morning After
The first rays of morning crept through the tall arched windows of Luca's chamber, casting a golden glow over the carved stone walls and tangled silk sheets.
Adunni stirred, the heat of another body still cocooning her. Her senses stretched before her thoughts did: the sound of a low, steady heartbeat against her ear, the warm musk of male skin and old cedarwood, the feel of calloused fingers tangled loosely in her curls.
She blinked up slowly.
Luca lay beneath her, shirtless, the heavy fur throw barely covering their intertwined bodies. His eyes were closed, dark lashes resting against sharp cheekbones, lips parted in sleep. He looked… peaceful. Almost too human for the beast she knew lay just beneath.
Last night wasn't a dream.
She moved to sit up slightly, wincing at the delicious ache between her thighs. Luca stirred at once, his arm tightening around her waist, instinctively protective.
His voice was hoarse with sleep. "Don't go."
"I wasn't," she said softly, brushing her fingers through his tousled hair. "I just needed to look at you with the sun on your face."
He opened his eyes, slow and heavy-lidded. "Was it better or worse than moonlight?"
She smiled. "Different. But just as dangerous."
He let out a low, rough chuckle. "You're going to ruin me, Adunni Brooks."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"I don't know if it's good or bad. I just know I'm not the same man I was yesterday."
She studied him. His jaw was tight, like there was something unsaid brewing behind his steady eyes.
"What is it?" she asked, tracing the lines of his chest with her fingers. "I can feel you thinking."
He caught her hand, bringing it to his lips. "What happens now? After this? After everything?"
She exhaled slowly, letting the weight of the question settle between them. "We're still us. Still caught between a prophecy and a war. Still haunted by the past."
She leaned in, pressing her forehead to his.
He looked at her then—not like a predator, not like a mate—but like a man who had bled too many nights alone.
She kissed him again, slower this time. A kiss that didn't ask or take—it simply promised.
Making silent promises to each other.
When they finally got out of bed—reluctantly—Adunni slipped into one of Luca's oversized shirts. It swallowed her in soft grey and smelled like him. He stared at her longer than he should have, his expression unreadable.
"What?" she asked, amused.
"You fit here," he said simply.
And for a fleeting moment, despite destiny and danger, she believed it.