Fated To Not Just One, But Three - Chapter 590

Chapter 590: In Her Arms
Lennox’s POV

I stared at her, lost.

Truly lost.

For a second, I didn’t understand what she meant when she said she wanted me—but then there was no time to think at all because she surged forward and slammed her lips against mine.

It was so hard and desperate.

The kind of kiss that didn’t ask permission, didn’t hesitate, and didn’t care about consequences.

Goddess.

My hands reacted before my mind could stop them, gripping her waist, pulling her closer, my body remembering her far too well. The feel of her mouth, the way she fit against me—it all came rushing back like I had never left.

Like I had never died.

And that was exactly why this couldn’t happen.

This would end in tragedy.

Because right now, I wasn’t Lennox.

I was Kaine.

And when the alcohol faded—when the fog lifted—she would wake up with this moment burned into her memory and hate herself for it. Hate me. Hate the weakness grief had dragged out of her. She would fall into a great pain and regret.

I couldn’t do that to her.

No matter how much I wanted her. No matter how much I wanted to pin her to the bed and worship her.

“Luna… Olivia,” I murmured against her mouth, forcing space between us even as it felt like tearing myself in half. “You have to stop.”

I pushed her back gently but firmly.

God, I fucking hated this. This was one of the hardest decisions of my life.

She stumbled a step, staring at me with glassy eyes filled with tears that destroyed me all over again.

“Lennox,” she whispered brokenly. “Why are you pushing me away?”

My chest caved in.

She truly believed it.

Right now, in this moment, she saw me—not Kaine, not a guard—but the man she buried.

I dragged a hand through my hair and turned my face away for half a second, just to breathe, just to keep myself from breaking completely. Just to keep myself from exposing who I cruelly was.

“You’re drunk,” I said hoarsely. “And you’re hurting.”

She shook her head violently and stepped toward me again, her hands gripping my shirt like she was afraid I would disappear. “I don’t care,” she whispered. “I miss you. I’ve missed you every second. Don’t do this. Don’t leave me again.”

Again.

That word nearly brought me to my knees.

She kissed me once more—slower this time, pleading, her lips trembling against mine. “I missed your mouth,” she whispered between kisses. “I missed you.” She kissed me harder. “I miss the feeling of your hand on me… your mouth worshiping my body.”

I closed my eyes.

Years.

It had been years since I touched her like this. Years since I held her, smelled her, felt her breathe against me. Every instinct screamed to take her back into my arms and never let go.

I kissed her—briefly, achingly—then pulled away again, resting my forehead against hers.

“This is wrong,” I whispered. “Even if it feels right.”

Her hands slid up my chest, clinging. “It never felt wrong with you,” she said softly. “It still doesn’t.”

I swallowed hard, my voice barely holding. “That’s exactly why I have to stop. You are Kaine and I am… just a guard.”

She pulled back just enough to look at me, her eyes glossy, unfocused, searching my face like the answer to everything she’d lost was written there. Like she was trying to read through me.

“So…” she said softly, bitterness threading through the word, “you don’t want me.”

The question wasn’t really a question.

It was a wound.

I didn’t answer.

Because the truth would destroy us both.

I wanted her. Moon help me—I wanted her so badly it hurt. There were a thousand memories crashing through me, a thousand instincts screaming, Mine!. But I wasn’t allowed to want her like this. Not as Kaine. Not when she was drowning in grief and alcohol and seeing me as Lennox.

My silence was answer enough.

Her lips trembled, then curved into a reckless, drunk smile. “Fine,” she said, swaying slightly. “Then I’ll just… find someone else.”

My blood went cold.

She turned away from me, wobbling toward the door. “Someone won’t mind,” she added carelessly. “The butler. A guard. Someone.”

Each word was a knife to my chest.

“I’m sure one of them would be happy to—” She waved a hand vaguely, laughing under her breath. “To keep me company.”

That was it.

Something dark and primal snapped inside me.

I crossed the space between us in two strides and caught her by the waist, pulling her back against my chest before I even realized I’d moved.

She gasped, then laughed—softly, breathlessly, teasingly.

“There you are,” she murmured, leaning into me like she’d always belonged there. “I knew that would work.”

I froze.

She turned in my arms, her fingers sliding up my chest, cupping my face with careless intimacy. “You were always like this,” she whispered, her eyes half-lidded. “So jealous. So bad at hiding it.”

My jaw clenched. Fuck. I couldn’t control my emotion.

“Olivia,” I warned quietly.

She smiled up at me, drunk and devastating. “See?” she said softly. “That look. That’s you… that’s my Lennox, who is so possessive of me.”

Then she rose onto her toes and kissed me again.

Not desperate this time, but passionate and loving.

I kissed her back before I could stop myself.

She tugged at me suddenly, unsteady but determined, pulling me backward until the edge of the bed pressed into the backs of my knees.

I didn’t resist fast enough.

She climbed onto the mattress first, then reached for me again, fingers curling into my shirt. Her weight shifted, her knees brushing my thighs, her breath warm and uneven as she pulled me down with her.

“I missed you,” she whispered, over and over, like a confession. “I missed you so much.”

Her lips found mine again.

I kissed her back.

I shouldn’t have.

But I did.

The bed dipped beneath us, the familiar give of it sending a sharp ache straight through my chest. My hands framed her face, thumbs brushing away tears I hadn’t realized were still falling. She tasted like grief and liquor and everything I’d lost.

“Olivia…” I breathed into her mouth, trying—failing—to slow her.

She shook her head, fingers sliding into my hair, holding me there. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t say my name like that. Just—just stay.”

I rolled with her instinctively, my body remembering the motion before my mind could stop it. I caught myself at the last second, bracing my weight on my arms so I wasn’t crushing her, hovering over her instead.

Moon above.

She looked up at me like I was salvation. Like she wanted me more than anything in this world.

Her hands traced my arms, my shoulders, reverent and familiar. “I missed this,” she said softly. “I missed you.”

My chest burned.

I lowered my forehead to hers, breathing her in, fighting the way every instinct screamed to claim, to protect, to never let go again.

“I can’t,” I whispered, the words tearing out of me. “Not like this.”

She frowned, confusion flickering through the haze. “Why?” she asked softly. “You’re here. I’m here.”

Because you’re drunk.

Because you’re grieving.

Because you think I’m someone I’m not supposed to be.

Because I am him—and I’m lying to you.

I closed my eyes, then slowly—so slowly—pulled back, sitting up and creating space between us even though every part of me rebelled against it.

She reached for me immediately.

“Don’t go,” she whispered.

“I’m not leaving,” I said hoarsely. “I’m just… stopping us.”

She stared at me, hurt and confused.

“You always did this,” she murmured. “You always tried to be strong for both of us.”

That almost broke me.

I stood before I could change my mind, turning away so she wouldn’t see my face, so she wouldn’t see how close I was to falling apart completely.

“Lie down,” I said gently. “You’ve had too much to drink.”

She hesitated, then slowly obeyed, curling on her side like she used to after nightmares. My chest tightened painfully.

I grabbed a blanket and draped it over her, my fingers lingering for half a second too long at her shoulder before I forced myself to step back.

She was already drifting, exhaustion pulling her under now that the storm had passed.

Just before sleep took her, she whispered softly, “Don’t disappear again.”

I stood there long after her breathing evened out, fists clenched, my heart in ruins.

“I won’t,” I whispered back.

I didn’t leave.

I should have.

Every instinct told me to put distance between us—to step out, close the door, disappear back into the role I was supposed to be playing. But my feet wouldn’t move.

So I stayed.

I sat in the corner of the room, half in shadow, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest as sleep finally claimed her. The storm inside her had quieted. Her breathing evened out, soft and familiar, the way it always did when she finally let go.

She looked peaceful now.

Too peaceful.

A lock of hair had fallen across her cheek. I resisted the urge to brush it back. I didn’t touch her again. I couldn’t. I had crossed enough lines already.

The blanket was pulled up to her shoulders, one hand curled beneath her chin like she used to do when she was exhausted. Seeing that small, unguarded habit nearly crushed me.

I leaned my elbows on my knees and bowed my head.

Moon above… what have I done?

We had kissed.

Not just brushed lips. Not a mistake that could be explained away.

We had kissed.

Long enough. Deep enough. Close enough that my wolf—silent, buried, grieving—had stirred for the first time in years.

Suddenly my spine went rigid.

Levi.

Louis.

They would have felt it.

I am no longer Olivia’s mate, which meant…

Shit.