Lucas's face changed from pleasure to pain. The sight served as a constant reminder that Sebastian Reed was never truly his. His heart swelled, not from what he felt for this relationship but from the aching pain. He felt an agonizing pain the moment the vampire felt his bond to him.
"You selfish dog! What the hell did you just do?"
He could still hear Sebastian's angered voice through his ears when the vampire had found that Lucas had imprinted on him. Him. A vampire. He was the sworn enemy of all people. Lucas closed his eyes tightly as he felt Sebastian reach his climax.
"Ah, shit!"
Sebastian gasped and panted as he looked at Lucas with sparks in his eyes. A spark that somewhat resembled "love."
'No, stop that, Lucas! Don't raise your expectations. It's just a quick fuck. Stop asking for more!'
Sebastian smiled and leaned forward to kiss Lucas on his lips. The sweet, chaste kiss made Lucas' wolf whimper quietly in his mind. Lucas stared at his blue eyes, searching for the love that he had hoped for once he found his mate.
All he could see was Sebastian's reaction when he made it clear the first time. There was no love present, only pure hatred.
"Dream on for all I care, Lucas. I will never mate with you. Never in a million years."
Lucas knew the truth—he was never Sebastian's love. Instead, someone brighter, fiercer, and sweeter had claimed his heart.
It was a throne Lucas would never sit upon. Sebastian deserved worship, not this hollow mimicry of love.
And Lucas? He was just a dog at a table where slaves eat, begging for scraps from a king's table.
Sebastian's fingers traced the curve of Lucas' cheek, calloused and careless, like a man petting a dog he'd already decided to abandon.
"Are you okay? What's that storm behind your eyes, sweetheart?" Sebastian murmured, his thumb catching on Lucas' lower lip. The endearment was a blade wrapped in silk—beautiful yet bruising.
Lucas slowly swallowed the truth—'Thinking about whether I will be able to leave you behind'—and allowed his mouth to twist into a soft smile, which he had been doing for the past few days.
"Just thinking how ridiculous you'll look in pink for Rachelle's birthday tomorrow."
Sebastian barked a soft laugh, vibrating gently against Lucas' skin as he leaned in. Their lips met in a kiss that tasted like a habit. It was just a brief kiss, the kind you'd give a friend.
Not the kind that left you breathless and ruined at three in the morning. Not the kind that meant anything.
When the vampire pulled away, Lucas stood his ground. He didn't chase him. He'd learned that lesson too well.
"Hey," he called out to Lucas, turning his sight towards Lucas' direction. A smile adorned his face.
"Rachelle had invited you to her birthday party tomorrow. The theme is pink and flowers."
Mockery was evident in his voice; the vampire rolled his eyes when he mentioned the theme of the party, making Lucas laugh lightly.
"Oh, stop that."
Sebastian scrunched up his nose and walked back to where Lucas was sitting.
"You'll be there, right?"
"Duh. She would kill me if I didn't."
Sebastian smiled back and gave Lucas a chaste kiss before going back in the direction of the bathroom.
"Be ready by eight at our usual spot. I will pick you up so we can go together." Sebastian said those words while sliding from the bed with effortless grace.
The shower hissed to life behind the bathroom door. Lucas sat in the aftermath, skin still humming where Sebastian touched him—always so careful not to linger.
On the nightstand, Sebastian's watch ticked mockingly. A countdown to nothing.
He sat there in silence, rubbing his chest where the bond ached. He could leave right now, just as he planned it.
In the silence, he could almost pretend the wetness on his cheeks was sweat from their earlier exertions.
Almost.
The motel door clicked shut behind them, sealing away another night of almost-love. Dawn bled pink at the edges of the parking lot, the same color as the lie Lucas had just told.
Their hand brushed—accident or habit?—and Lucas' fingers twitched with the memory of Sebastian's skin.
One last touch, his wolf begged. One last taste. But he ignored it and shoved his hands into his pockets instead, letting the fabric swallow his loneliness.
Sebastian tossed his bag into the back of the driver's seat with the same effortless grace Lucas would never stop cataloguing.
The way his muscles moved under his shirt, the anatomy that he memorized from the times that they had met in secret.
His hair caught the sunrise like spilled ink. Without looking back at Lucas' direction, Sebastian asked the same question that he had heard for years.
He had been giving him the same answers, such as "No, I brought my car with me," or "Max will give me a lift," or "We still can't be seen, Seb."
But not this time.
Lucas leaned against the car. "Nope," he emphasized the p sound more as he felt as if the metal was biting into his spine. "Oh, Great Alpha, Timothy called for a pack meeting."
Sebastian nodded, easy as breathing, and slid into the driver's seat. He turned on the engine before looking back to where Lucas was.
Their eyes met—blue and brown, ocean and earth—and for a heartbeat, Lucas let himself drown in the fantasy that Sebastian might see him.
But the vampire's gaze was a locked door. Lucas knew every hinge, every splinter, and every No Trespassing sign nailed to the wall.
Sebastian smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. His eyes held a language Lucas wished he'd never learned.
This cursed ability to read the truth in the flicker of a gaze was a gift from his ancestor, Silas Red. And what he saw now carved into him like a dull knife:
He felt fondness, but it wasn't love.
There was a desire, yet it was not a necessity.
It was a goodbye that Sebastian hadn't even realized he was saying.
Lucas looked away first. "Drive safe," he said, smiling around the lie festering in his ribs. The engine roared, and then the taillights vanished.
Lucas exhaled.
Somewhere, Beatrice was waking up to coffee and kisses that didn't come with caveats. Somewhere, Sebastian was already forgetting him.
And Lucas? Lucas stood there exactly where Sebastian had left him. "I'm sorry, Lyra," he said, his voice trembling and breaking his strong facade.
The rising sun painted the world in gold. "But this is how it has to be." Lucas turned his face in the opposite direction, letting the sunlight scald away the fantasy he'd clung to:
That in another life—kinder, softer—they might have been something simple. That Sebastian's hands would have learned him for joy, not hunger.
The bond could have been a beginning rather than an end.
Slowly, Lucas stepped in the direction away from his present, without looking back.