My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 83

Chapter 83: Chapter 83 BETWEEN DESIRE AND CONTEMPT

SERAPHINA’S POV

The first thing I registered when I woke was the absence of motion.

The violent rocking of yesterday—the waves pitching me into nausea, into that medicated haze, into Kieran’s arms—was gone.

The yacht had stilled into something softer, more docile. Only the faint hum of the engines and the muffled slap of water against the hull reminded me we were still cutting through the waters of Exuma Sound.

I sat up gingerly, bracing to see if my stomach would betray me again, but the queasiness had ebbed to a dull echo. My head throbbed faintly, like I’d woken from a night of drinking.

A knock sounded at my cabin door.

I dragged myself out of bed and smoothened my clothes before trudging to the door, hoping it was Kieran, and wishing it wasn’t.

“Lady Seraphina?” It was one of the crew members, a young man with a sunburnt nose and too-wide eyes. “Forgive the intrusion, but—” He hesitated, shifting his weight. “We...we can’t seem to reach Alpha Kieran.”

My brows furrowed. “Reach him?”

He nodded quickly. “We’ve tried his radio, the intercom. No response. No one’s seen him since last night, and we’re about to dock. The men are”—his throat bobbed—“concerned.”

Concerned. But not enough to check.

Of course not. Who would dare enter the Alpha’s room uninvited? Not when a single wrong step could earn them a broken neck.

“I’ll see to him,” I murmured, grabbing a fancy robe hooked by my bed.

The corridor smelled faintly of polished wood and salt, the air-conditioned chill fighting the Bahamian heat outside.

At the end of the hall, Kieran’s door loomed. It was easy to tell that it was his—larger, darker, guarded even in its silence.

I knocked. Once. Twice. Louder.

Nothing.

“Typical,” I muttered under my breath, and reached for the spare key the crew member had procured.

It was almost comical how terrified he’d been to give it to me lest he incur Kieran’s wrath, but after I promised he wouldn’t swim with the fishes anytime soon, he relinquished it.

The lock clicked softly, and before I gave myself time to think about all the reasons why this was a bad fucking idea, I slipped inside.

The curtains were drawn against the morning sun, the room heavy with shadows and the faint tang of sweat.

For a heartbeat, panic sliced through me—Kieran was sprawled across the bed, motionless, too still.

But then his chest rose, rapid and erratic, and my pulse eased.

Kieran Blackthorne, feared Alpha of Nightfang Pack, lay tangled in sheets like any mortal man. His hair was mussed, his brow damp, his lips parted like he was making an unspoken plea.

I’d confirmed he was alive. I should’ve left at that moment. Just closed the door, let him wallow in whatever fantasies kept him tethered to sleep.

But something—maybe the remnants of last night’s fragile tenderness, maybe plain foolishness—kept me rooted.

Even worse, I crept closer, leaning over him. His lashes flickered. His lips moved around a name I couldn’t hear.

Kieran Blackthorne truly was a beautiful man. Women paid hundreds of dollars for lashes like his that cast shadows on his chiseled cheekbones, softening the severity of a face that had once turned cold every time it turned to me.

His mouth—those lips that had spoken vows he never meant—was infuriatingly perfect, sculpted in temptation even when parted in something as innocent as sleep.

I hated how easily I could imagine them on my skin, how my body remembered the press of them even when my mind wanted to forget.

His jaw, sharp and stubborn, carried the same arrogance he wore awake, yet the faint stubble caught the light in a way that almost gentled him.

Almost.

Because even in this vulnerable state, he radiated power—Alpha, unshaken, untouchable.

But those lashes fluttered faintly, caught in whatever dream had his longing written across his face—and I knew it wasn’t me he reached for in his sleep.

That realization burned hotter than any flame, reminding me just how foolish I could be when it came to Kieran.

Then—suddenly—his eyes opened.

And what I saw there wasn’t anger. It wasn’t suspicion or command.

It was that very longing.

Raw. Unmasked.

My stomach tightened, colder now than any seasickness. Celeste. Of course.

He must have been dreaming of her. Of their sweet little call I’d overheard yesterday.

Her coy voice, her talk of children. His reassurances.

The memory curdled inside me, scalding away whatever softness last night had planted.

I straightened, the air between us frosting over. “You’re awake,” I said flatly.

He blinked, slow, disoriented. “Sera—”

“I’ll leave you to it.” I turned, already stepping away, but his voice snapped sharper.

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