Roarke understood.

Roarke knew Sienna never loved him. He had known it even as it was happening. Sienna loved Arkai and Roarke was simply... there. A warm body in the orbit of the man she truly wanted.

He knew he was never supposed to love Sienna. He knew his feelings, whatever they were, were a betrayal of the brother who had saved him.

But that night, with Sienna clutching his tunic, begging him to make the pain of her heat disappear—

He lost his mind.

Her heat scent. Her sweet words. The way her fingers dug into his shoulders. How could he refuse? How could any man refuse, when a woman he had quietly, shamefully desired for years was clinging to him like he was the only solid thing in a world dissolving into fire?

It was his fault. He knew he should have been stronger. He should have pushed her away, locked her in her room, and fetched Arkai. There were a hundred things he should have done, and he had done none of them.

When the news broke that she was pregnant, Sienna told Arkai she never wanted it to happen. Perhaps she had hated it so much that everyone needed someone to blame.

Roarke wholeheartedly accepted it. He was indeed to blame.

But that night—

That night, Sienna never refused him. She had clutched him harder. Her intoxicating heat scent had filled his lungs. Her sweet words had filled his ears.

How could he refuse?

Roarke knew Sienna only loved Arkai. He had thought, at the time, that Arkai would love her back, despite them being step-siblings, despite the taboo, despite everything.

He had thought Arkai was a cowar, refusing her love just because of what people would say. Detaining her in her heat-suffering state, letting her claw at the door and cry his name, all because he wanted to keep his spotless reputation.

But what if Arkai had refused her not because of the taboo?

What if Arkai simply never loved Sienna as a woman?

What if he never even saw her as a woman? What if she was, and always had been, only his sister?

Then—

Then everything Sienna did was a torture to him.

To Arkai, Sienna was just... someone who refused to accept that he didn’t want her, and never would.

In the end, Arkai met his own Luna.

Lady Sees could not be compared to Sienna. That was not an insult, that was simply fact. The Luna was strong, bold, wise, intelligent and in complete control of herself, while being incredibly flexible. She was able to adapt, navigate and win.

She was competent in a way that Sienna had never been. Like Arkai. She was like Arkai.

Yes. Compared to Sienna, Luna Sees was infinitely better for Arkai.

Perhaps Sienna was truly the problem.

Perhaps—

No.

Sienna was still Rinne’s mother. It was wrong to blame a woman—a dead woman, for what he had done. He was the one who impregnated her. He was the one who had been too weak to refuse. He was the one who had betrayed his brother.

Everything was his fau—

"I did not know you were the kind who would obediently sleep in another man’s bed just to keep your mission intact."

The voice came from the side cabinet.

Roarke’s entire body went rigid.

On the sofa chair beside the small clock, a chair that had been empty when the candle burned out, Arkai Dawnoro was lounging like a man who had all the time in the world and no intention of explaining himself.

But Roarke saw a disturbingly familiar ring glinting on his finger.

Arkai crossed his legs. "I thought I would be the only man you have ever slept with."

Ah.

This fucker and his sus one-liners.

Roarke’s heart pounded against his ribs. Seeing Arkai Dawnoro lounging in a chair three feet away, looking like he had wandered in from a completely different genre of story, of course his heart would pound.

Other than the fact that these were the first non-violent words exchanged between them in ten years, Roarke was also still sleeping on "another man’s bed."

And the alpha was not even holding his voice back!

Oleg was right there. If the weretiger woke up, no, if he so much as twitched in the wrong direction, he would see the Black Wolf King sitting in his bedroom.

"Relax." Arkai said, voice infuriatingly calm. "I know you’re worried about the sound, but at this point, the drumming of your heart will be louder than my voice."

Roarke glared. He did not dare speak.

If he spoke, Oleg would wake up. If Oleg woke up, he would have to kill him. Alongside everyone else in this modest residence—

Wait.

Did Arkai come and kill Oleg already? With the Presence Concealing Ring—had Arkai slipped through the townhouse, eliminating the servants one by one, and was now sitting in the bedroom with the last remaining witness because the rest of the house was already dead?

That would explain the casual volume and the relaxed posture. The complete lack of concern about being overheard. If everyone else was dead, there was no one to overhear.

But... Inexplicably, Roarke could still hear Oleg’s peaceful snores...

"It is a sound barrier." Arkai Said, cutting through his spiraling thoughts. "The border is on your cute little pillow fort between you. So he will still be sound asleep."

Sou—

Huh?

Oh.

Wait, HUH?!

Sound Barriers were high-level magic. It required formal training, extensive practice, and the kind of magical control that most beasts simply did not possess.

They were the domain of mages and scholars and ancient creatures who had spent centuries mastering the finer points of arcane manipulation.

"I learned from a dragon, mind you." Arkai said. "We used it a lot lately, so I might as well learn it too. And wolves are supposed to be good at sound magic spells."

Was he—

Was he bragging about his dragon wife right now?

Roarke was speechless. Here he was, lying in a cramped servant’s bed, trapped between a sleeping weretiger and a ghost from his past, and Arkai Dawnoro was casually flexing his newly acquired magical skills.

Arkai tilted his head. "You are still worried that the little cub will hear us?"

Well... yes. Oleg, by their standards, was indeed a cub.

"Why are you here?" The question finally scraped its way out of Roarke’s throat, and he wasn’t sure what kind of answer he expected.

Was he here to execute him?

Roarke had involved himself with Arzhen Vasiliev, but Arzhen was not the target. Arzhen was Ruby’s extension, and Ruby was the Luna’s exclusive prey. If the Luna had decided that Roarke’s extracurricular activities were a threat... if he had come to clean up a loose end...

"The Madam said you were in trouble." Arkai shrugged.

This bastard...

As though "the Madam said you were in trouble" was a perfectly normal reason to cross a city in the middle of the night and break into a prince’s townhouse.

"She showed me an address and gave me this ring." He held up his hand, the Presence Concealing Ring glinting in the moonlight. "Came to see you chilling with a younger man, on his be—"

"Stop with the bed topic." Roarke hissed sharply. He wouldn’t endure a second reference to the sleeping arrangements. "Why are you here?"

Arkai looked at him for a long moment. As the cold mocking tease faded. His black eyes held a strange quality. Something Roarke had never seen.

"Because it is almost midnight." Arkai reached for the small clock on the side cabinet. His fingers, rough and scarred from decades of combat, closed around it with surprising gentleness. He turned it over in his hands, watching the minute hand creep toward the twelve.

"And I want a new painting."