The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 26

Elder Thora’s phone chimed, low and insistent. She frowned, sliding the device from her silver clutch, and her brows knit.

“My apologies, darling,” she murmured, rising smoothly from her chair. Even standing, her presence pressed over me like a blanket of protection. “This cannot wait. A council matter.”

The weight of her gaze anchored me before she left. “Stay. Finish your meal. Order more if you’re hungry. When you’re done, find me in my suite or one of the conference rooms. Understood?”

I nodded quickly. “Yes, Elder.”

“Good girl.” She brushed her hand over mine once, then turned, her gown whispering against the floor as she disappeared into the hotel.

Suddenly, the terrace was too quiet.

I pushed my half-empty wine glass aside and glanced around, as if the world might cave in without her. The bar beyond the glass thrummed with noise—wolves laughing, warriors drinking, Alphas holding court—but I felt stripped, exposed.

The waiter returned, clearing plates with a polite smile. “Anything else, miss?”

I hesitated, twisting my fingers in my lap. “Is the lemon white cake better than the double chocolate cheesecake?”

His grin widened, conspiratorial. “They’re both excellent, but the lemon is the favorite. Bright, sweet, light.”

“Then… lemon,” I said, though my tongue ached for chocolate, too.

“As you wish.” He bowed slightly before retreating inside.

I tried not to glance at the bar. Tried not to feel the heat prickling my skin, the weight of unseen eyes. Instead, I forced my gaze to the terrace railing, to the city lights glittering like spilled jewels against the night sky. I counted them like stars, anything to keep from burning alive in my own thoughts.

The waiter returned minutes later, balancing a tray. My eyes widened. Two plates gleamed beneath the lamplight—one with lemon cake, the other with rich, glossy cheesecake.

I frowned. “I only ordered—”

“The other slice,” the waiter interrupted, his voice low, “was ordered for you.”

My heart stuttered. I looked up before I could stop myself.

The bar stool where he had been sitting was empty.

The space too hollow.

“Where—” I started, but the words died.

Because he was here.

Alpha Toren.

Sitting across from me as though he’d always belonged there, his presence filling the air like smoke and steel. His suit was sharp, black as shadow, and the faint glint of his cufflinks caught the terrace light. His gaze—those molten brown eyes—pinned me where I sat, scorching me to my bones.

My breath tangled in my throat.

He reached forward, without rush, without hesitation, plucking the fork from the cheesecake plate. His movements were unhurried, confident, sensual in their ease. He cut into the dense chocolate, lifted the bite, and held it across the table to me.

The fork hovered inches from my lips.

“Eat,” he said. Low. Commanding. Velvet wrapped around steel.

I froze, every instinct screaming to retreat, every nerve alight with something else—something hotter, darker, insistent. My lips parted, breath shallow, but still I hesitated.

His gaze didn’t waver. Didn’t soften.

The longer I looked at him, the more my body betrayed me. Heat pooled low in my belly, my core aching, a restless pulse that had nothing to do with hunger for food. I wanted this. Stars above, I wanted it so badly I could hardly breathe.

I leaned forward, slow, deliberate, my eyes never leaving his. My lips closed around the fork.

The chocolate was rich, sinful, melting over my tongue—but it wasn’t the taste that unraveled me. It was him. The way his eyes darkened as I chewed. The pleased flicker at the corner of his mouth, like I had just passed some test.

“Good,” he murmured.

Before I could recover, he reached for the lemon cake. Another slice, another offering, this one lighter, brighter. He held it closer, and my restraint crumbled. I leaned in eagerly this time, the tangy sweetness bursting over my tongue. His smirk deepened.

“You please easily,” he said, almost to himself. “I like that.”

My chest heaved, every breath ragged, every nerve stretched taut. Bite after bite, he fed me, alternating between chocolate and lemon, each motion a ritual, intimate and possessive. And each time, I took it, because I couldn’t stop myself.

When he finally set the fork down, silence bloomed thick between us.

“What’s your name?” he asked at last, his voice a low rumble that made the hair on my arms rise.

My throat tightened. “Kira.”

His eyes sharpened, like he was tasting the word. “What pack do you belong to?”

I hesitated. Fear trickled in. I swallowed, forcing the answer out. “Alpha Lucas’s pack.”

The shift in him was immediate. His jaw tightened, the warmth in his eyes cooled to hard stone.

“Lucas is a joke,” Toren said flatly. “A man who takes bribes to fill his pack with weak wolves and desperate humans. Pathetic.”

I bit my tongue, my silence heavy, unsure what to say.

He watched me for a long, tense moment. The air between us pulsed, like lightning waiting to strike. Then his voice dropped lower, rougher.

“Where are you staying?”

“With Elder Thora,” I whispered. “I’m… working with her for the evening.”

Something flickered in his gaze. He leaned back slowly, studying me as though I were a puzzle only he could solve. For a heartbeat, I thought he might reach for me again.

Instead, he stood.

Without a word, he adjusted his jacket, turned, and strode inside. His men followed, shadows falling into place behind him. The bar swallowed them whole, and moments later, they were gone.

I sagged back into my chair, lungs finally dragging in air. My fork trembled as I picked it up and pulled the plates closer. I took another bite of cake, but the sweetness barely registered.

Because all I could taste was him.

The way he had fed me—deliberate, claiming. The way his eyes had darkened with every bite I took.

It was intoxicating. Dangerous. Addictive.

And no matter how much I tried to fight it, the heat still spread through my body, fierce and undeniable.