The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 65

After a while, I stood and drifted to the window. The resort gardens were still, the trees beyond whispering like the ocean I’d never seen. I pressed my palm to the cool glass and wished Toren were back, wished Talon had stayed, wished Elder Thora would walk in and tell me exactly what to do.

The lock turned softly. My breath caught. Talon stepped in, a paper bag balanced in one arm and two bottled teas in his hands. His eyes flicked to my face, scanning, searching. He shut the door with his foot, set the food on the little table, then came to stand in front of me.

“I’m sorry,” he said, without preamble.

“For what?” My voice was small.

“For snapping. For making you feel like you have to ask permission to exist.” He exhaled, the sound rough. “You were trying to understand me. That’s more than most ever tried.”

My chest loosened an inch. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to question your loyalty to Toren. I just…” I shook my head. “I’m new at being chosen. I don’t want to be a burden. Or a fracture.”

“You’re not a fracture,” he said firmly. “You’re the only thing that’s made sense in a long time.” He held out a tea. “Peach. Toren says you’ll like it.”

A laugh broke out of me, startled and wet. “You brought me peach tea.”

“I brought you two,” he corrected, the faintest smile pulling at his mouth. “In case the first one isn’t enough.”

We ate on the edge of the bed—quiet, companionable—passing the box back and forth, picking through fries and a burger big enough to share. He tore napkins in half, handed me the bigger piece without comment. Small things. Gentle things. When my fingers brushed grease across my lip, he reached up without thinking and wiped it away with his thumb. We both stilled, eyes catching. Something soft and bright pulsed between us—no pressure, just the warm truth of it.

“Talon?” I said after a beat.

“Mm?”

“When Toren comes back with Tyson… are you okay with this? With… all of it?”

He looked at the floor, then at me. “I won’t lie. The idea of sharing doesn’t sit easy.” He lifted a shoulder. “But the idea of losing you sits worse.” He swallowed. “I can learn new ways to be a brother. I don’t want to learn how to live without you.”

The hum behind my ribs turned luminous. “Okay,” I whispered. “Then we’ll learn together.”

A chime sounded on his phone. He glanced down, brows drawing together. “Toren just checked in. He’s on the road. He says, ‘Tell Starlight I’m keeping my promise.’”

Warmth slid through me like sunlight. “Tell him I’m keeping mine too.”

Talon typed, then set the phone aside. We sat shoulder to shoulder in the quiet, the kind that didn’t scrape or demand. For the first time since the shouting, since the glass and blood and the truth that cracked open the floor, I felt… steady.

Maybe I wasn’t breaking anything. Maybe I was part of what would hold it together.

Outside, the trees moved like a tide. Inside, Talon’s arm eased around my shoulders. I leaned in, and he let out a breath that sounded like relief.

His thumb brushed slowly across my upper arm, a gentle, steady rhythm. The warmth of his body at my side was a completely different kind of heat than Toren’s — not fire and storm, but a low-burning ember. His lips found the side of my neck, just the barest brush at first. My pulse jumped beneath his mouth.

I froze for a moment, caught between instinct and surprise. Talon felt it immediately. He hesitated, fingers flexing against my waist like he was bracing to let go. “Kira,” he murmured, voice low and rough but trembling at the edges, “just tell me no, and I’ll stop.”

Something in the way he asked — no demand, no assumption, only permission — made my chest tighten. “I don’t want you to stop,” I whispered.

A shiver went through him. His hand slid higher, still slow, still careful, tracing the curve of my ribs through the thin fabric. His mouth moved again at my neck, soft, testing kisses, and then the faintest scrape of teeth. When he lightly bit my shoulder, the sound that left me was a gasp-turned-moan. My back arched against him, every nerve alive.

That small reaction had an effect on him like a spark hitting oil. His growl rolled through my skin, low and primal, but still controlled. He shifted, pulling me to my feet so that we stood facing each other. The balcony door stood open behind me; the night air flowed in, cool against my flushed skin. Talon guided me back inside, away from the edge, the shadows pooling around us.

He paused, like he was setting a stage. His hands went to the hem of his shirt and he drew it up over his head in one slow movement. In the muted light his body was leaner than Toren’s, all scars and sinew. He didn’t reach for me. He stood there, chest rising and falling, waiting for me to do something. Waiting for me to choose.

He was completely opposite from Toren. Where Toren was heat and command, Talon was a patient tide. And to my surprise, I liked it.

I reached for the hem of my own tank top, fingers trembling slightly. Slowly, I peeled it off, letting it drop to the carpet until I stood in just the skimpy black bra I’d put on earlier. Talon’s eyes flickered, darkening, but he didn’t move. He was giving me space, time.

A thought struck me, sharp as a blade. *Is Toren okay with this?* The question flared like a beacon.

Before I could even form it, a voice slid through the back of my mind — warm, steady, familiar.

*It’s okay, Starlight. Toren’s tone held no anger, only certainty. You’re both of our mates. I love that you checked in, though.*

Relief flooded me. *I just didn’t want to—*

*Shh,* Toren murmured in my head, like a palm smoothing down my hair. *Breathe. Be with him. We’re all in this together.*

The mindlink dissolved as softly as it had appeared. And when I looked up, Talon was right there. He reached out and cupped my cheek with his palm, thumb brushing the corner of my mouth, and then he kissed me.

Softly at first. Testing. His lips were warm and tasted faintly of peach tea. I melted into him. The feeling was like a soft blanket wrapping around me, a new kind of safety. He was so gentle, so sweet, so patient with me, like he had been waiting for this moment for far longer than I’d known.

He kissed me again, deeper this time but still slow, still careful. His hands slid up my sides, mapping me with reverence instead of urgency. We moved together, a slow undressing of both fabric and fear. By the time our mouths broke apart we were breathing hard, the rest of our clothes scattered around us on the floor.

Talon guided me back to the bed, his hands never leaving my waist. “Lie back,” he murmured, voice a low rasp. “Please.”

I did, the cool sheets whispering against my skin as I settled onto them. He hovered above me for a moment, propped on his elbows, staring down at me like he couldn’t quite believe I was real. His chest rose and fell fast. There was hunger in his eyes, yes, but also awe, a kind of quiet devotion that made my breath catch.

He bent his head and pressed a line of slow kisses from my collarbone down to my stomach, his hands skimming my sides, fingers trembling. Every touch felt like a question. Every kiss felt like an answer.

Then, still kneeling between my legs, Talon paused. His head dipped lower, but he didn’t move again right away. He looked up at me, eyes dark but soft. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he said, voice hoarse. “I won’t take anything you’re not ready to give.”

My heart thudded. “I’m ready,” I whispered.

Something inside him eased, and he exhaled shakily. His hands smoothed down my thighs, steadying me as much as himself. He bent again, kissing the inside of my knee, then higher, slow, deliberate, until every inch of me was trembling.