Ella scrubbed the food from her body as steaming water poured down in a blissful cascade. A hot shower was exactly what she needed, but she felt like a silly schoolgirl, star-crossed in puppy love. She couldn't stop replaying the events in the kitchen, reliving every word, every touch—every look from Sinclair's penetrating green eyes.

She found herself running her hands over her bare skin in the same places he had stroked and caressed her, imagining what he would do when he came home. She knew he was going to kiss her before Hugo interrupted them, and the memory of his lips so near hers sent shivers of excitement down her spine. Sinclair had kissed her before, of course, but never in private, never simply because he wanted to.

Her mind raced with possibilities. Would he make love to her when he returned? Was his attraction that strong? She couldn't stop imagining it. Would he be gentle and tender, the way he had been when she most needed comfort? Would he be rough and dominating, unleashing the animal within? Or would he be some combination of the two, passion in all its varying forms?

She finally pulled herself out of her daydreams when the water ran cold. She yelped as the heat disappeared, dousing her in icy reality. What was she doing? Who was this silly, sex-crazed girl who had taken over her mind? Sinclair and she didn't have a future together, so why was she letting the little voice in her head get so carried away with longing for the impossible? That wasn't her—she had always been practical and realistic, not some starry-eyed dreamer. Shaking herself, she turned off the water and grabbed a towel, determined to stop being so silly.

No sooner had she stepped out of the shower than a knock sounded at the bedroom door. "Miss, you have a visitor!" a maid called through the thick wooden panel.

A visitor? This was a surprise. No one had ever visited her here, and the only person who might was Cora—but it was the middle of the day; surely she was at work. Even though she rationalized this, she was still surprised to find, downstairs, that it wasn't Cora waiting for her. It was just about the last person she would have expected to see—Sinclair's estranged brother, Roger.

"Hello, Ella," he greeted her, rising from his chair.

She froze in the doorway of the sitting room, unable to process the sight before her. "What are you doing here?"

"Easy now," he raised his hands in supplication. "I come in peace."

"Excuse me if I find that hard to believe," she retorted.

"I came to apologize for the way I behaved the day we met. I'm ashamed to say that my brother brings out the worst in me. It was wrong to take that out on you," Roger stated remorsefully.

"You know, I really don't understand you two," she confessed. "Where I come from, siblings are all you have—the only friends, the only family or allies. It seems very strange to me that you and Dominic are so at odds."

"Where do you come from?" he asked thoughtfully.

"The Shadow Pack," she lied; she'd told it so many times she didn't even have to think about it. "But my parents died when I was young."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," he said, sounding surprisingly genuine. "But it's different for Dom and me. Your circumstances pushed you and your siblings together; ours tore us apart. Being the sons of an Alpha sets you in competition with one another from a young age. Our father never encouraged it, but we always knew that one of us would rule one day—and we both wanted to prove ourselves."

"That must have been difficult," she empathized, remembering what Sinclair had also told her about their mother's death. "But it doesn't excuse the things you said to me."

"Ella, I truly am sorry," he professed again, raising a finger to qualify his statement. "At least, for the way I spoke to you. But I'm afraid I can't apologize for the things I said."

Her shoulders stiffened. "Shouldn't it be the reverse?"

"No, because I wasn't lying," Roger frowned deeply. "I may have been speaking spitefully, but my heart was in the right place."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I don't think spite can ever be the right place."

"I was trying to warn you," Roger insisted. "And I'd warn you again if you'll let me."

"I'll listen to what you have to say," she conceded, her morbid curiosity burgeoning. "But I won't promise to take it to heart."

Roger sighed, almost seeming relieved. "What has Dom told you about Lydia?" he asked.

She was taken aback for a moment. She remembered Roger's harsh words about how she was nothing but a womb to him, that he'd toss her aside as soon as the pup came along, but she wasn't expecting him to bring up Lydia. "That they were fated, but she left when he couldn't give her children," she summarized simply.

"And did he mention that she hasn't had a pup with her chosen mate either?" Roger pressed.

"No, why would he?" she inquired, though she could already see where this was going.

"They always assumed the root of their fertility struggles lied with him," Roger explained. "But now that it's clear that he can father children after all, I guarantee she'll be back."

"Just because she comes back, it doesn't mean Dominic will accept her," she remarked coolly. In her head, she was thinking that he wouldn't be so quick to forgive a mate who turned her back on him, fated or not, but she also had to remember she was supposed to be Dominic's second-chance mate. She needed Roger to think she was confident enough in their bond that Lydia's return wouldn't challenge it.

"Ella," he said her name as if it were an apology itself. "They're fated. Take it from someone who learned the hard way—chosen mates can be wonderful, but the Goddess's bond is stronger than all else."

"It happened to you?" she asked, intrigued by his statement.

Roger laughed. "I see Dom left out that part of the story, did he?"

"What part?" she clarified uncertainly.

"Lydia was my lover first," he revealed. "She'd agreed to a formal mating ceremony and everything. We knew we weren't fated, but we thought our love would be strong enough. Then Dominic came of age, and their bond came to life. Everything that had once been between us disappeared overnight."

"Dominic stole Lydia from you?" She could barely stop herself from gaping at the surprise of this news. Sinclair certainly hadn't shared that part of the tale when he explained Roger's disdain for him.

"They were fated," Roger shrugged, much more accepting than she would have been about the situation. "Neither of them had a choice in the matter and he won't have a choice when she comes back either."

"And you're certain she'll return?" she prompted.

"I'm sure of it," Roger said gently. "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this and I hope I'm wrong. But you should prepare yourself. I wish I'd had someone to warn me this way."

"Well, thank you for telling me. I'll take your advice into consideration," she replied honestly.

She thought about Roger's words for a long time after he left. She still didn't trust the man; he definitely had a chip on his shoulder when it came to Sinclair. She was curious about why Sinclair had left out the details about his past relationship with Lydia, but not enough to believe Roger hook, line, and sinker.

Besides, true or not, it didn't really change anything at the end of the day. Roger thought he was warning her, but he didn't know she was human, that she had already been warned and, indeed, prepared for a new mate to come into Sinclair's life eventually anyway.

Sure, she wasn't expecting it to be Lydia—but the identity of the woman didn't really matter; she would cease being Luna regardless.

She was still glad at the idea that her baby might have half-siblings one day, but it was an important reminder to protect her heart. She was already questioning herself before Roger turned up.