SIENNA'S POV:
Anne Marie and I have spent hour in here, cramped and stiff, polishing plates while Lord Jeffrey played nice with Patrick and Marcus. After they finally unlock the walk-in china pantry (where they hid us from the hive pack leaders), I feel like I can breathe again. The air in the hallway smells like old dust and wet cardboard.
Dinner is a blur. By the time Lovette shoves food at us in our omega suite, my wolf is pacing under my skin. I'm exhausted. Me and Jinx saw Patrick (and Naeo). He actually knows us (they recognized us).
Now Annie and I lie in separate beds; we stare at the ceiling. My heart hammers against my ribs, making my chest ache.
"Mate...!" Jinx whines in my head. I roll my eyes.
"Patrick knew me," I tell her, trying to ignore her needy begging.
Jinx flops down in my psyche. The second she drifts off, it's finally quiet. Maybe I can sleep now that Annie and I have pieced together enough about our rewritten lives. I drift off.
But I'm wrong. I wake up in another dream. One second it's dark, and the next I'm standing in front of a fancy dinner table. It looks like Patrick's penthouse. Some memory crawled its way back to the surface, though it shouldn't exist after the fate re-alignment.
My reflection is in the mirrored walls. But it isn't me. I see broad shoulders and a sharp jawline. I'm in Dr. Patrick Greyson's body. I try to move a finger, but it's like wearing a VR headset with no controls. I'm just along for the ride.
His feelings hit me. It's just heavy. It presses on my ribs until breathing feels like a chore.
Candlelight flickers. Crystal glasses sit on an elegant white tablecloth. Elizabeth, his wife, holds a glass of red wine. The smell of rosemary-crusted lamb fills the room. A card laying on the table says, “For our anniversary.”
It’s their anniversary? Oh, shit. I feel the tension in his muscles and the skip in his pulse.
'Elizabeth, my wife for nine thousand years,' he thinks. I just think: She's dead now. She died two years before Anne Marie and I got snatched by those Timmons-Von-Dracula freaks. But that’s what happened in this life.
This memory is Patrick's. A ghost of a life before that witch rearranged the board. In that other life, his wife was alive when I was twenty four and slept with her husband.
Elizabeth looks up. Her blonde hair is bright. She's beautiful, the kind of beauty that hides the fact she could rip a throat out.
'She came with me from Pandora. We left before the gateway closed,' his thoughts echo. 'Graceful. Powerful. Mine.'
I feel the love he has for her. Though it's not some burning thing; it's just something that's developed over a lifetime of deep roots in the hierarchy and his duty as a king.
We inhale together. His heart pounds in his chest.
"Liz," he starts, his voice low. "I need to tell you..."
She sets down the wine glass. Her eyes lock on his. I know that look (the forced smile, the fear). My stomach twists. She knows.
"Of course, Patrick." Her voice is sweet, but it cracks. "What..."
He hesitates. He gathers himself.
"I've found my fated mate, Liz." He says it like he's talking about the weather. "Her name is Sienna Rightfield."
Fuck. Sorrow and pain crash into me. I want to scream, but I'm stuck inside him.
Elizabeth doesn't move.
"Sienna?" she asks, her face pales. "Isaac's dau..."
'Yes, me!' I scream in my head.
Patrick nods. He reaches for her hand before she can finish.
"The Oracle spoke of her. Of us." His voice is steady. "And the children she will have..."
The walls feel like they're closing in. His heartbeat thrums against his ribs like a caged animal. He knows this pain. He felt it when Lord Patrick I (his father) sealed his fate with Elizabeth back on Pandora.
Destiny is in his veins: Kindred Souls of the Moon. Heir to the throne. Future hive pack king. But the prophecy always knew we'd collide.
Her voice cracks. “What happens now..."
I feel her wolf pacing. Her blue eyes glow as tears run down her cheeks.
“We’ll make it work. Together. For the pack. For the prophecy.” Patrick's gaze locks onto hers.
The dinner table holds cold plates, food untouched, and colder truths.
“Sienna is pregnant.” The words tumble out from his mouth (our mouth). “With triplet boys... more disciples. The prophecy is coming to pass, Liz.”
Disciples? Micah, Jared, and Aaron (my sons). Blades for the Great Battle? The way he says it makes our boys sound like a drop in an ocean of chosen ones. Ones who’ll shadow “The Nine”; fight alongside them and spread their light.
Elizabeth goes still. She slaps her hand over her mouth. She's shaking.
“How?” Her whisper is short and sharp. “How can that..."
Patrick meets her stare. His heart is a roaring storm. “The prophecy, Liz. It chose her. It chose us.”
I taste his guilt. It's over between them. He watched me grow from a girl stealing cookies from his jar into a woman carrying his heirs. Micah. Jared. Aaron. The prophecy isn't ink anymore; it's my swollen belly and his hands on my hips. It's a memory in his mind. And now a future that doesn't exist anymore.
Liz shoves her plate away and stands. The chair shrieks against the marble.
“I need some air,” she says.
Patrick reaches for her hand, but she flinches. He looks at her with that face he makes when he thinks he can fix things.
“We’ll get through this,” he says.
Liz nods. She is faking it. Her tears look like oil under the chandelier. I stand there (stuck inside him) knowing the man she loved for centuries is mine now. This is some kind of cruel joke only Gaia, our Moon Goddess, could pull off.
She heads to the balcony. He follows. The wind smells like wet pavement and old pine. Wolf Springs is just a bunch of lights down below us.
He wraps his arms around her and puts his lips to her hair. “I’m sorry. I never wanted to…”
She fights him for a second, then she just collapses into him. She turns around (quick) and loops her arms around his neck.
“I know,” she says. “Sometimes, destiny has other plans.”
They stop talking. Inside, the candles smell like burnt wax. There is half eaten dinner on the table; the meat is getting cold and greasy.
"I wanted to tell you sooner," Patrick says. His jaw is tight. "The bond between Sienna and me grew stronger every damn day. I knew denying her would be..."
Elizabeth steps back. Her bluish gaze looks far away, deep in thought.
"Why didn't you come to me that morning?" she asks. "When I could smell her all over you? All over our..."
‘Bed,’ I think to myself, finishing it for her. My stomach feels like it is full of hot lead. I whimper in my head. She knew. She knew the whole entire time. She fucking knew even when we sat at that dinner table acting like a normal family. The Greyson Estate was supposed to be a convenience for me and Annie’s jobs at the Medical Institute.
I avoided him like the plague after that night. I remember the smell of her sheets and the way her pillows felt against my face before I fell asleep in his arms. I thought distance would make him stay loyal to her. But Elizabeth kept pulling me back in with that kindness that feels like salt in a fresh cut.
Patrick flinches.
"I didn't want to hurt you, Liz. Never meant for this to..."
He is lying. He knew what he was doing when he marked me.
"But I did get hurt," she says. "You mated her. Marked her. Kept me in the dark while bringing her into our lives. Our home. Our bed, Patrick. You didn't even consider me, your wife..."
She is right. I am the one that wrecked their home.
His thoughts hit me. He is torn between some prophecy about me and his love for her. He thought silence would protect her. Now he sees the damage. His mental scream makes my head throb.
He touches her cheek with a rough finger.
"Never meant to betray you," he says. "The pull to her... it's just..."
Elizabeth looks at him. Their old bond is just a pile of scrap metal now.
"I know," she says. "Doesn't make it any easier though, does it…?"
The air feels heavy and thick.
"But Patrick, I want you to know… I'm not kneeling to that girl..."
Elizabeth locks eyes with him (me) and I can't even breathe. I smell the sharp scent of her expensive perfume; it makes my nose itch. Patrick's thoughts hit me hard and my head aches. He thinks this is bad. That we (me and him) might rebuild or just burn it all down. He's conflicted; I'm just tired. My ribs ache with a dull throb that feels like a bruise. I feel sick.
Their hands touch. He feels the heat of her skin, and it probably keeps the cold out, but I just feel the draft hitting my ankles (his ankles).
"We face this together," he says. "For the packs. Our family. Our hive. The future of the Kindred Souls of the Moon. For all werewolf..."
"For the prophecy," Elizabeth interrupts. She’s not crying anymore, but her eyes are still wet. "But mark my words, Patrick. I won't be discarded. I'm still your queen. Their Luna. I don't kneel to girls not even half my..."
She doesn't finish. The silence tastes bitter in my mouth. I don't want her crown; it probably weighs too much and gives you a headache. The hive loves their Superior Luna. I'm eighteen in this timeline; but in that one I’m twenty-four and comparing myself to her feels like trying to fight a muddy landslide with a plastic spoon.
"You won't be…" Patrick starts.
"I'm still the one they follow," Elizabeth cuts in, her wolf surfaces in her eyes.
Patrick shifts his weight. I wonder if I'm just breeding stock now or if fate is just playing a joke. Thanks, Gaia. She won't step aside, and now I'm wondering if she did something to me and Annie because of it.
He thinks about his hive again. Being united or ruined. He is afraid for me. There is no middle ground here. He knows Elizabeth does not compromise.
They move inside. The penthouse feels extra chilly. The dinner is congealed on the porcelain; the rosemary smells like a dead garden.
He pulls her against his chest. The silence is so thick it feels like it might choke me. The prophecy has kicked their door down. And I was the unwanted package it delivered.
He thinks about their twins, Harlan and Luna. Three years old and asleep in their rooms. His heart feels bruised.
I scream in my head. He had twins with her. Not just the five sons from when they crossed over to Earth. But two young twins, just born not too long ago.
Then there were the triplet sons that were growing inside me. They kick my ribs; a phantom ache only. Everything is flipping over inside me.
He thinks about our future unborn twins being the golden ticket for the hive pack. His thoughts are a mess.
Elizabeth rests her head on his chest. I am still stuck inside him, feeling her heartbeat like a dull drum. Outside, the city hums with the sound of traffic.
The dream shifts.
— ♡ ♡ ♡ —
I am five months pregnant; sprawled back in a sterile gynecologist chair. I feel like a lump of clay. My heart is thumping against my ribs; my breath comes in short puffs. Dr. Greyson (Patrick to me) is my mentor and lover, and he's my doctor today. My Blue Moon pack, led by Dad and Uncle Ivan, stays separate from the Kindred Souls for now. The Moon Cresters of Wolf Springs have been hive-pledged for centuries; they're always hovering around us.
It's just another Tuesday check-up. My belly is tight. The hospital room smells like rubbing alcohol and old bleach.
"Well, well... well. What do we have… here?" Patrick saunters in. He owns the place (of course), so he walks like it.
"Good morning, Dr. Gre..." I start, but he gives me that look. "Patrick. How are you?"
"Better now that you're here..."
He’s not looking at me anymore. He's too busy staring at my chart. He tosses the paperwork down, snaps on blue gloves, and puts his hands on me, possessively. His touch is warm. His ocean blue eyes are dark.
"Everything's progressing well," he says, steady feeling me. He moves lower. "But there's tension in your abdomen."
He smooths his fingers down my abdomen, then slips between my thighs. Two fingers curl inside me. He pulls back, and I feel the tension.
"Is that normal?" I grab my swollen belly, pulse jumping.
Patrick smirks. "Of course not!"
"What?"
"Just kidding. It's natural, love. But I can help."
He leans in. His breath is hot against my ear.
"The prophecy didn't just bind us as mates," he says. "It unlocked... special perks."
He rips the gloves off and drags me to the edge of the chair. My legs stay open. He traces my waist with his bare fingers. My breath hitches. There is a throbbing heat in my inner folds.
"Trust me," he growls. "You need this..."
He stands, leans over and crashes his mouth onto mine. He tastes like mint and coffee. Jinx, my wolf, purrs in my head.
"Yes, Naeo... take me..." She moans in my mind.
I dig my nails into his shoulders. He pulls back and slides my gown open. My breasts are swollen; nipples tight.
"Pretty, pretty..." He whistles. He's clearly aroused.
The air smells like musk and spice. Our combined arousals. A shudder rolls through me. My thighs press together instantly. I know what he wants and that worries me.
"Patrick...? No!" I try to scramble off the chair, but I'm too tired. He stops me easily.
He sinks to his knees between my legs, hands clamped on me firm. The chair's footholds trap my ankles. He skates his rough palms up my thighs, parting them wider. He looks at where I'm already slick.
He inhales, his nose flaring just inches from my clit. The air makes my folds tingle. Then his mouth lands on the skin of my inner thigh. I choke on a gasp. His tongue is hot and slick.
"Patrick," I whimper.
"Shhh," he murmurs. "This is for us. For Micah, Jared, and Aaron..."
He tongue-swipes my clit. My back arches. He works me in swirls, licks and suckles. Teasing with a precision that makes my hips jerk. Pressure coils in my belly; it's a deep ache. He kneads my breasts, squeezing my nipples. I almost come undone.
"Ahhh... Patrick, yes!" My legs tremble around the width of his shoulders; more licks, more tongue swirls, more suckles.
"Oh, my little honey bee," he growls against me, squeezing my taut peaks between his fingers again. "You're so sticky sweet. Cum for me..."
I'm teetering. He lets one nipple go (leaving it taut and tender), brings that arm down; then sinks his fingers inside me. He presses his thumb down on my clit, moving in and out as he glides his tongue up and down my folds. I shatter. My body convulses around his digits.
"That's it, Cee-Cee," he purrs with that British lilt. He gives one final lick. "Cum for me..."
I climax, weak and spent. My nipples are sensitive. The air stiffens them more. Patrick watches me with predatory eyes.
"Are you okay, Sienna?" he asks (playfully), his eyes full of amusement.
I can only nod.
"I've never... felt anything like that..." I breathe.
"It's our mate bond," he says, grinning. He circles my clit with his thumb. "Our bodies are linked. You're just starting to realize..."
He kisses me one last time and stands up. His erection strains against his dress pants. He is huge.
I usually overthink things. But this time I couldn't. He tugs me forward and settles me against him. I thought I was out of the woods. I figured he had his fill of me already. Apparently not. My heart hammers against my ribs.
“Your turn, now…?” I tease. My voice is shaking.
He groans. It sounds filthy. The metal of his belt clinks and the zipper makes a loud, grating noise in the quiet room as he unzips himself. He wraps my hand around his bare cock. It is hot, slick and thick. I almost moan. I stroke and squeeze, making his eyes clench shut.
He doesn't let me linger. He shoves my hands away and drags me off the chair. My belly brushes his tip. He squeezes his eyes shut (again). Now I know what he wants. I smirk.
“Give it to him…” Jinx says in the back of my mind.
I obey and kneel slowly (for the sake of the kids); taking him into my mouth. I taste salt and heat. We lock eyes. I swirl the tip with my tongue. He fists his hands into my hair and guides me deeper.
I work him. He gasps. The bond between us feels like a heavy weight in my gut. It grows with every lick and suck. We are like a bomb about to go off. He can't take it. One second he is out of my mouth, the next he is lifting me like I’m nothing. He carries me to the exam table. He lays me down. He spreads my legs and settles between them.
So, he is really going to push inside me? Please, don't. I press my palm against my belly. I feel the triplets stir.
“Oh, goddess, no!” I gasp. “Patrick, please…?”
“Ready?” He growls. His voice is rough; it is half him and half Naeo. He is a daredevil.
I nod, giving in to him. His eyes are dark and hungry.
“Make love to…” I start.
“Let me make you feel alive,” he purrs, cutting me off. His breath is hot against my skin.
He slams his hips forward. He is inside me; thick and hard. I cry out and dig my nails into his back. He sinks deeper where the babies are. It is almost too much. My body arches. We move on the table. The hospital room fades. There is only this: me and him. The Oracle said this would happen. All I can think about is cumming.
“Fuck, Sienna,” he pants, thrusting harder. The slick heat makes every stroke a delicious drag. “Pregnant mates are so wetter than… Oh, goddess!”
He grazes my neck with his teeth. He wants to mark me again. Jinx claws at the surface.
“Bite! Bite!…” she snarls in my ear.
Patrick roars. His fangs drop and he sinks them into my skin right where the mark already glows. It feels like a sharp pinch that turns into a throb. My blood fills his mouth. My back bows off the table.
“Patrick, yes!” I whine. My walls clench tight around him. He rides me through another orgasm and his fangs retract.
He doesn't stop. Relentless. He keeps driving into me. His knot swells and pulses. We are stuck together. I can’t take it anymore.
We howl; losing ourselves. His hot cum fills me. I shiver, hearing gasps and footsteps outside the door; but nobody comes in.
We stay wrapped together. His knot is still buried in me. As we catch our breaths, the room smells like sex and sweat. It is thick in the air. Patrick kisses the bite and looks at me.
“Thank you,” he murmurs. “For being mine. For carrying our kids…”
“Thank you for loving me,” I say. “All these years, you knew. Thank you for choosing me.”
He brushes the curls from my face.
“I had no choice,” he teases; then chuckles. “You’re my fate, Sienna Rightfield. We’re going to change the world…”
I giggle against his chest. Our connection feels warm.
“Looking into your eyes, Cee-Cee… it’s like watching the sun…” he says. He kisses my forehead.
I hold him tight. The future of the hive pack looks brighter. Should the Blue Mooners join his hive? The thought is tempting.
Then I wake up. I am back in the omega suite of the Timmons-Von-Dracula estate. I am still in my bed. And the thought hits me, ‘The moon set on their love and the sun rose on ours; eclipsing both time and destiny.’ I feel horrible. I now know the truth: homewrecker extraordinaire. That was me.