Chapter 56

Elara

When I returned home that night, Alaric wasn’t in bed. Not that I expected him to be; when I pulled into the driveway, I could see his light on inside his study, indicating that he was likely up late working. Knowing him and the nature of this most recent problem, he’d spend all night in his office.

Still, as I showered and changed into my pajamas and climbed into bed, the sheets felt colder than usual.

Staring at the ceiling, I tried to let the quiet of the room lull me to sleep, but the empty space at my back was a constant reminder. I hated the way it felt—like the weight of him should still be there, the warmth of his body emanating across the expanse between us.

But to him, I was just a mistake. The mark on my neck was just a reminder of that mistake. And we had never shared a bed out of love, but out of necessity.

The next morning, I woke to gray skies, a light drizzle pattering against the window. Just as I suspected, Alaric’s side of the bed was untouched when I rolled over. I sighed and climbed out of bed, throwing on some warm clothes and pulling my hair back into a neat bun.

I found Alaric downstairs, already pulling on his coat in the foyer as the early morning light spilled in through the windows. He didn’t look at me—didn’t even seem to notice I was standing at the base of the stairs until I spoke.

“You’re leaving early,” I said quietly, wrapping my arms tightly around my midsection.

Alaric’s hand paused briefly at the cuff of his sleeve. Then he adjusted it without so much as glancing my way. “I’ve got meetings.”

“Is everything okay?”

He adjusted his collar next, every movement methodical and controlled, as if he hadn’t heard me.

I took a few tentative steps closer. “Alaric.”

That caught his attention. Finally, his eyes lifted to meet mine. But the moment they did, I almost wished they hadn’t.

There was nothing there. No warmth. No softness. Just cool indifference, like I was someone he had to tolerate rather than the woman who was sharing his home.

I swallowed against the knot forming in my throat. “Did you sleep at all last night?” I asked tentatively.

He shrugged. “I slept in my office.”

“You need to sleep in a bed. It’s not good for your body.”

“It’s easier to sleep in my office when I’m working late.”

I stared at him, hoping he would say more. Something. Anything. But he just reached for his keys and headed toward the door. He left without a word, without so much as a second glance.

Over the following two and a half weeks, I hardly saw him.

The bond between us—once new and electric and humming with our twin pulses—had dulled to nothing but a distant ache that I ignored more often than not. Sometimes, I would even forget that it was there entirely, and would stare at the mark in shock when I looked in the mirror.

Alaric seemed content to keep it that way, and never tried to tug at the bond. Neither did I.

He rarely ate dinner with us anymore. Most nights, it was just me and the girls at the table, his seat glaringly empty as James made excuses on his behalf. Work, work, work. But even the girls were starting to notice.

“Is Daddy mad at us?” Zoe asked one night, fiddling with her fork as she pushed her peas around her plate.

I forced a smile I didn’t feel. “No, sweetheart. He’s just busy. He loves you both very much.”

Ella, for her part, didn’t look convinced.

There was a bit of relief, though, with Grace gone. She’d moved out the very night of the banquet, although out of her own anger or being forced to leave by Alaric, I wasn’t sure. The girls and I were happy on that front, at least, as long as we ignored Alaric’s distance.

It wasn’t long, however, before they decided to take matters into their own hands.

“Family game night!” Zoe announced one evening, practically dragging Alaric from his study and into the living room.

Ella followed close behind, grinning up at him expectantly. “You promised, Daddy.”

For a brief moment, I thought I saw the faintest flicker of guilt cross his face. But it was gone before I could be sure.

He nodded. “Alright. One game.”

It was more than I expected.

But even as we sat on the floor playing cards, his mind was elsewhere. His movements were mechanical, and he never even tried to laugh when the girls tried to make jokes. He glanced at his phone more than the board, barely meeting my eyes across the table.

When the game ended, he kissed the girls on their foreheads and stood without a word, disappearing down the hall.

Ella tugged at my sleeve, leaning close. “Is Daddy sick, Mommy?”

I smiled softly and brushed her hair back. “No, love. He’s just tired,” I said gently. But the words felt hollow, even to my own ears.

One day, as the leaves on the trees were starting to turn vibrant autumn colors and the air was growing colder, I found out that Alaric’s businesses had stabilized.

According to James, he’d managed to renegotiate some of the business deals and had pulled through in the end. I wasn’t sure if Asher had anything to do with it, but if he had, no one told me. Hell, I wouldn’t have even known if I hadn’t practically cornered James in the hallway for that small tidbit of information.

Still, Alaric didn’t return to his normal self. He stayed in his study just as much as usual, and never came to bed. I knew he was still avoiding me, but why? Was it the kiss that was still bothering him? The mating mark? Or something more?

Either way, he couldn’t keep this up—for the girls’ sake, he had to at least play the part of a father and not a distant ghost living in his study.

One night, when I realized he hadn’t eaten all day, I made him a sandwich and some tea and carried it to his office. I figured it would be a good icebreaker, if nothing else.

The door creaked softly as I pushed it open, only to find him slumped over his desk. He was sound asleep, papers scattered around him, and the room was a bit of a mess—lived-in, with pillows and blankets strewn across the couch, a cup of unfinished coffee beside his sleeping head, and his shirt rumpled.

I sighed and set the tray down gently, careful not to wake him. He really did look exhausted, far more exhausted than I’d ever seen him. Despite everything, I just wanted to let him sleep. The other stuff could wait, I supposed.

But as I straightened, a report near his elbow caught my eye.

The red powder.

“Moonwolf Powder,” the page read. My eyes widened. Moonwolf… That was a word I hadn’t heard in a very long time. I leaned closer, itching to get a better look.

But suddenly, Alaric bolted upright, his back going ramrod straight. His eyes were wide and glazed, his face eerily showing no expression.

I gasped, jerking back, and the tray tipped from the desk and crashed to the floor with a loud clang. The sandwich tumbled across the carpet, the cup of tea spilling everywhere.

I stumbled and began to teeter backwards, my arms windmilling out to the sides. Alaric just sat there, unblinking as if he were a reanimated corpse.

But just as I was about to fall, he shot to his feet and caught me.