Sire

Chapter Seven

­Emiliano woke with a lazy smile, the memories of the night before swirling in his mind like a sweet dream. Fia’s warmth still pressed against him, her soft breaths steady as she slept peacefully. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt whole.

The light of dawn streamed through the curtains, catching the soft curves of her body and the faint mark on her shoulder—a mark that made his stomach twist. His smile faded, and panic surged through him.

The full mate bond.

The relief in his aching bones was undeniable, but the consequences of what he’d done hit him like a truck. His beast, satisfied and resting, had allowed him some reprieve from the toll the moon would have taken on him. Yet, that satisfaction came at a price: Fia had been marked, claimed as his mate in a way that went far deeper than physical intimacy.

Emiliano cursed under his breath, careful not to wake her. How was he supposed to explain this? To tell her about the bond she’d now feel, the changes her body might experience? And worse—the potential for pregnancy? His head throbbed with the weight of it all. He hadn’t meant for this to happen, not before explaining everything to her.

Not trusting himself to remain calm in her presence while his beast stirred just beneath the surface, Emiliano slid out of bed as quietly as he could. He didn’t bother dressing; his only goal was to make her breakfast and find a way to soften the blow of what he had to tell her.

The kitchen was cozy and cluttered with little signs of Fia’s personality: mismatched mugs, handwritten recipes on the fridge, and a vase of wilting daisies on the counter. He rummaged through her cabinets, trying to focus on the task at hand.

Then he heard the sound of a key in the lock.

Before he could react, the front door swung open, and a familiar voice called out, “Fia? Are you awake?”

Mia.

Emiliano froze, stark naked, holding a carton of eggs in one hand and a frying pan in the other. His brain screamed at him to move, to hide, to do something, but it was too late. Mia rounded the corner into the kitchen, her eyes landing on him in all his glory.

For a moment, there was only stunned silence. Then Mia’s face turned bright red, and she quickly averted her eyes, holding up a hand as if to shield herself.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed, voice high and frantic. “You—uh—you’re naked!”

Emiliano, equally mortified, dropped the eggs and pan with a clatter, his hands flying to cover himself. “I—uh—I didn’t know anyone else had a key!” he stammered, his face flushing as red as hers.

Mia, still averting her eyes, took a step back toward the door. “I just came to check on her because she never called me back yesterday! I’ll—I’ll just wait outside!”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Emiliano said quickly, already retreating. “I’ll—I’ll just—”

Before he could finish, he bolted back toward Fia’s bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

The noise startled Fia awake. She sat up, rubbing her eyes and squinting at him in confusion. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice husky with sleep.

Emiliano, leaning against the closed door like he was barricading it, looked at her sheepishly. “Uh… Mia’s here.”

Fia blinked, processing his words. “Mia?” She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. “Why is she here so early?”

“I don’t know, but she has a key,” Emiliano muttered, clearly flustered. “If I’d known, I would’ve worn clothes before going out there!”

Fia’s lips curved into a small, amused smile. “Mia has a key to my apartment,” she said, her tone teasing. “Something I’m now reconsidering, thanks to you.”

Despite the awkwardness, Emiliano couldn’t help but chuckle softly. Fia’s laughter joined his, and for a moment, the tension lifted.

But as Fia leaned back against the pillows, her bare shoulder catching the morning light, Emiliano’s laughter faded. The mark was there, a vivid reminder of what he’d done.

He needed to tell her.

But not yet.

“Stay here,” he said softly, stepping toward her and brushing a kiss against her forehead. “I’ll handle Mia and bring you breakfast.”

Fia raised a brow. “Are you sure you don’t want to borrow some clothes first?”

Emiliano grinned despite himself. “I’ll manage.”

As he left the room, his mind raced with how to salvage the situation. One thing was certain—by the end of the day, Fia would know everything. Whether she hated him or not, he owed her the truth.