The Banished Shy Luna Chapter 76

It had been a few hours since I’d last seen any of my mates. The tension that hung in the air after our argument still sat like a weight in my chest, so when the twins suggested drinks, I didn’t hesitate. A distraction sounded perfect.

At first, it didn’t even feel like I was drinking much. A cocktail here, another there—light, sweet things that tasted more like fruit than liquor.

That is, until I stood up.

The room tilted.

The ground swayed just enough that I grabbed the edge of the table to steady myself. “Okay… maybe that last one was stronger than I thought.”

Shyanne laughed, clutching her stomach. “You think? You tried to toast the wall, Kira.”

“I did not.”

Marianne grinned. “You totally did. And the wall wasn’t impressed.”

I rolled my eyes and tried to stand a little straighter. “I’m fine. Completely fine.”

The twins exchanged matching looks that screamed you are absolutely not fine, but they followed me toward the elevators anyway, giggling the whole way. My heels clicked unevenly on the tile.

By the time we reached the elevator, the carpet was doing slow waves beneath my feet.

“I swear,” I slurred, gripping Shyanne’s arm, “that last drink was rigged. The table moved.”

Marianne giggled. “You moved, sweetheart. The table’s fine.”

We stumbled together, laughter echoing through the hall—three disasters in heels and glitter, holding on to each other like shipwrecked sailors. The elevator chimed; the doors slid open.

And there he was.

Toren.

The golden glow of his eyes caught the low light, his jaw tight enough to crack stone.

The laughter died instantly.

Toren’s gaze swept over the three of us once—slow and sharp—before landing on me. The bond between us flared like a live wire, and I could feel the weight of his anger—hot, possessive, and thrumming with something darker underneath.

He didn’t speak right away. He just lifted one hand and pointed to the spot beside him. “Here. Now.”

The twins froze. I didn’t.

Something in his tone left no room for argument. I moved—wobbly steps and all—into the elevator, stopping at his side. His presence was overwhelming, the kind that filled every inch of space and made the air feel thinner.

“How much?” Toren finally asked, his voice low.

Shyanne straightened, trying for innocence but failing miserably. “Only, like, three drinks, Toren. We swear! It was nothing.” She fumbled in her pocket, pulling out a crumpled receipt and thrusting it toward him.

Toren snatched the slip from her hand, scanning it with a look that could have melted glass. “This much wouldn’t make one of you stumble.” His jaw tightened. “Who served you?”

Marianne blinked. “Not Brittany. A guy this time—kinda tall, dark hair, flirty.”

Shyanne muttered, “Got mad when Kira turned him down.”

That did it.

Toren’s hand shot out, gripping my waist and yanking me against him hard enough to steal my breath. The air pulsed between us, thick with heat and fury.

“Toren,” I whispered, dizzy for an entirely new reason.

He leaned down, his voice low and dangerous. “You smell like him.” Before I could blink, his massive hand clamped around my waist, yanking me off my feet and slamming me back against the cool wall. The impact jarred the fog from my brain just enough to register the heat pouring off him—jealousy, raw and unfiltered, mixed with that primal need to mark, to own. His body pinned mine, all hard planes and barely leashed power, his breath hot against my neck.

“It’s the bar,” I said quickly. “I turned him down, Toren. I didn’t talk to him again.”

The gold in his eyes flared brighter. “Doesn’t matter.” His lips brushed my ear. “He looked at what’s mine.”

The words struck like a physical touch—possessive, raw, terrifyingly sincere.

“Toren—”

He growled—a deep, guttural sound that reverberated through the small space. “I need to remind you who you belong to, Starlight.” He leaned in closer, his nose brushing my jaw, inhaling deep. A low rumble vibrated through his chest, sending shivers straight to my core.

His tongue flicked out, licking a slow, deliberate stripe up the side of my face—from jaw to temple—tasting the salt of my skin, dominance dripping from every motion. The twins shrank back against the opposite wall, wide-eyed and silent, watching like they were caught in a live-wire storm.

Before I could form a protest—or maybe beg for more—his mouth crashed down on mine. The kiss was brutal, all teeth and hunger, his tongue invading like he was claiming territory. His nails—sharp, shifter claws half-extended—dug into my waist through my shirt, pricking just enough to draw tiny beads of blood. The sting mixed with the ache building inside me. I moaned into his mouth, the alcohol amplifying every sensation, turning the world into a haze of need.

Then I heard it—the faint buzz in my mind, that telltale hum of the mind-link firing up. He was broadcasting—flashing images, scents, the whole jealous mess—to Talon and Tyson. I knew it without words; our bond thrummed with their rising awareness, a chorus of disapproval and desire echoing back.

The elevator dinged, doors sliding open on our floor. And there they were, waiting like avenging shadows: Talon, his broad shoulders filling the frame, eyes dark with that brooding intensity; Tyson, leaning against the wall with a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes, arms crossed and radiating the same possessive heat. Their looks hit me like a one-two punch—needy, hungry, but laced with that stern edge that promised retribution.

Talon’s gaze flicked to the twins first, his lip curling in a snarl. “You two. Room. Now.” His voice was a whipcrack, brooking no argument.

Shyanne and Marianne exchanged a glance—half terror, half suppressed giggles—before scurrying out like scolded pups, feet pattering down the hallway toward their door.

I looked between my three mates, the elevator’s hum the only sound in the sudden silence. Toren’s grip hadn’t loosened, his body still caging me against the wall. Talon’s nostrils flared, scenting the air—booze, jealousy, my arousal. Tyson pushed off the wall, stalking closer with that predatory grace, his dark eyes locking on mine.

“Drinking with the troublemakers, huh?” he drawled, a hint of dark humor threading his tone. “And entertaining flirts? Bold move, little mate. But you know what happens when you play with fire.”

Toren’s growl deepened, vibrating against my chest. “She’s reeking of human stench. Needs a reminder.” He nipped at my lower lip, hard enough to sting. “Ours.”

Talon stepped in, his hand cupping my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. “You smell like trouble,” he murmured, thumb brushing my swollen lips. “And we don’t share.”

Tyson chuckled low, the sound wicked and promising. “Looks like we’ve got a long night ahead—cleaning you up. Properly.” His fingers trailed down my arm, possessive and unyielding.

I swallowed hard, heat flooding my veins despite—or because of—the disapproval in their eyes. The bond sang with their intent: dark, intense, wrapping around me like chains I craved.

No, I wasn’t getting out of this easy. And part of me—the wild, fated part—didn’t want to.