Chapter 21

Iris

The moment I see Arthur standing over me, my entire body freezes up.

As a human, I don’t have the werewolf instincts that innately make my body react to an Alpha’s presence, but it doesn’t matter. The cold authority in Arthur’s gaze is enough to make me stiffen, my mind, body, and heart all warring against one another.

On one hand, he’s my fated mate, and his very presence sets my heart racing even after all this time.

But my mind knows where this is going—what he can no doubt sense now just from looking at Miles. I know I should leave.

And yet my body is frozen like a deer in headlights.

“Mommy?” The sound of Miles’ voice pulls me out of my reverie. He tugs on my hand, half-hiding behind my legs. “Who is that?”

Arthur smiles and crouches, reaching out to brush a strand of hair out of Miles’ eyes—big green eyes, just like his own. Only then do I know I need to move.

“No one, sweetheart,” I say, scooping Miles up into my arms before Arthur can touch him. I whirl around Arthur, beelining for the baggage claim so I can get the hell out of here.

But Arthur is quick. He’s always been quick even for an Alpha, especially when he wants something. He steps in our way once more, and this time, his eyes are darker, gleaming with something that I can’t quite read.

“Iris,” he says, his voice low and dark. “We need to talk. Now.”

I shake my head, taking a step back. “I don’t want to,” I blurt out.

Arthur’s shoulder’s slump infinitesimally, like he actually expected me to go with him and now he’s disappointed. But before either of us can speak, Miles’ nostrils flare. He sniffs the air as if picking up a scent, then cocks his head.

“Is he my daddy?”

I hold back a curse. Miles is a human, like me, with no wolf. But I’m sure he still possesses some werewolf traits like his father, primarily an innate sense for the familial bond that they share.

Werewolves know their packs—their kin. They can, quite literally, smell the unique essence in their blood that ties them to their family. Miles is no different, even if he’s not entirely sure what it means yet.

Arthur’s eyebrows shoot up, no doubt already having come to the same conclusion himself. Although he’d need an actual paternity test just to be sure, he can sense that Miles is related to him. Any dummy could put two and two together.

I never should have brought Miles to Ordan. This was a mistake.

In my head, all of the worst possibilities flash by like a movie: Arthur whisking Miles away as his heir, claiming custody. Never letting me see my son again unless I agree to being his sordid little mistress.

Or, perhaps, Arthur won’t claim Miles at all. He’ll turn up his nose at him, complain that he’s a half-blood and therefore not fit to be an Alpha’s heir, and he’ll try to throw more money at me to keep me quiet and out of his life.

Neat and tidy. Exactly what he hoped for, all those years ago, when he wanted to keep me hidden from the rest of the world while he married a werewolf woman in public.

Finally, I manage, “No, honey. He’s just…” I flick my eyes over Arthur, not bothering to hide my disdain. “An acquaintance. Nothing more.”

Miles looks confused. Arthur, for his part, looks borderline furious.

“Right,” he says, a muscle ticking in his sharp jawline. “An acquaintance.”

With a curt nod, I turn on my heel to leave, hoping that Arthur will get the fucking point and leave us alone now. I don’t want him involved with my son, and I don’t want whatever money or deal he’ll likely throw at me in order to keep this whole thing up to his standards.

But then Arthur calls out to me, “This acquaintance would like to know if you have a ride from the airport.”

I hesitate briefly, my arms tightening around Miles. Brian and his husband are both busy today, and I was planning on hailing a cab. I’d still rather do that then accept a ride from Arthur. But as I glance over at the cab pickup area, noticing the enormous crowd of people standing in line, I feel my conviction waver.

Despite everything, Arthur hasn’t hurt me in any way since my return to Ordan. I hate him after what he did five years ago, but I know he only means to help by offering a ride.

Finally, after considering for a few more moments, I sigh and turn back to face him.

“Fine.”

“Fine?” He tilts his head as if he expected me to get on my knees and praise him for the offer.

“Fine,” I repeat firmly.

Arthur doesn’t argue, and instead helps me gather our bags from the baggage claim and then leads us out to his car. Miles gawks at him the entire time, his nose twitching as he tries to piece together whatever the hell is going on. I’m sure I’ll be receiving plenty of questions later.

Questions that I’m not ready to answer. And maybe I never will be.

To my surprise, Arthur has a kids’ car seat in the back of his car. It still has a tag on it.

“You just bought this?” I ask, glancing up at him as Miles climbs in.

Arthur simply shrugs, his gaze betraying nothing. I can’t help but wonder if he and Selina plan on having children soon. Although I tell myself that I don’t give a shit, the thought makes my chest tighten painfully. I shove the notion away, deciding that it’s not my concern.

The car ride is mostly silent, save for the hum of the engine and classical music playing on the radio. Goddess, even the music Arthur listens to is the same as all those years ago; he was always a big classical fan, and we went to more than one symphony during our time together.

Miles begins to hum in the backseat. Arthur glances at him in the rearview mirror.

“You like this song?” he asks.

I want to tell him not to speak to my son, but I hold my tongue. Miles just nods.

Arthur looks at me briefly, surprise written across his face. I shrug. “Classical music is good for kids. It’s good for healthy brain development.”

If Arthur agrees, he doesn’t say anything. Although I swear I can see the muscles in his face soften ever so slightly. Finally, he says, “Well, if you like this, there are lots of good orchestras in Ordan. I could take you sometime.”

Miles’ face lights up, and it’s all I can do not to bury my face and groan. If circumstances were different, I might consider going—I always had fun doing such things when we were together—but they’re not.

“That sounds fun!” Miles says, clapping his hands together. “I like to hear the viowins.”

“Violins, sweetie,” I correct. When I notice Arthur looking at me, I add, “Speech impediment. We’re working on it, but it still slips out sometimes.”

“There are plenty of good speech therapists in Ordan, too,” Arthur says.

I purse my lips, holding my tongue once more. I half expect him to offer to pay for one, to claim that the heir to the oh-so-esteemed Alpha President should speak well. But surprisingly, he doesn’t. Although he does say, “Are you just visiting?”

Before I can answer, Miles cuts in, “Nope! We’re gonna live here now!”

Arthur practically comes to a screeching halt at a red light. He looks over at me, his eyes as wide as saucers. I can feel my cheeks heat under his gaze, although I manage to keep my expression neutral.

“Why?” he asks, his voice lower now. He’s not speaking to Miles anymore, but rather to me. “I thought you were living with that Brian guy.”

“You can just call him Brian, for the record,” I reply bitterly. “And what does it matter if I am?”

“You’re going to move in with a whole other family along with your son? Isn’t it going to be a little… cramped?”

For a moment, I almost tell him that Miles and I won’t be living with Brian and his family, but I stop myself. It’s better that he doesn’t know where we’ll really be living, as I don’t want him showing up at our place for whatever reason.

Besides, I just don’t want him knowing too much about my life. I worked hard to rebuild after what he did to me, and the strides I’ve made—being able to afford a nice apartment here for me and Miles—are my own.

So instead, I just shrug and don’t say anything else.

A few minutes later, Arthur pulls up in front of Brian’s apartment. The car has barely stopped before I’m getting out and helping Miles unbuckle from his car seat. Brian and Liam are waiting for us on the front steps, the twins excitedly waving at Miles.

As Miles runs to greet them, Arthur helps me remove the bags from the trunk. I grunt out a curt, “Thanks,” and move to take the bags.

But his grip holds, refusing to release the bags until I meet his gaze. When I do, his face is grim.

“Why did you really come here?” he whispers. “If you’re trying to get inheritance money, then—”

I gasp, my mouth hanging open. My hand itches to slap him, but I don’t. Rather, I yank the bags away and grind out, “Fuck you, Arthur. I don’t want anything from you.”

Before he can answer, I turn on my heel and storm inside, leaving him standing there on the sidewalk.