My Sister Stole My Mate And I Let Her (Seraphina) novel Chapter 90

Chapter 90: Chapter 90 HOT AND DESPERATE AND HUNGRY

SERAPHINA’S POV

The moonlight shone brightly through my window, casting my room in a silver-drenched glow.

I tried to meditate like Ilsa had taught me to do, grounding myself in breath and silence—hoping it would put me at ease after the rollercoaster of the last couple of days—but the full moon was oddly merciless tonight.

It tugged at me from within, setting every nerve on edge. The steady hum of my wolf’s absence was now replaced by something raw and visceral, like my soul remembered the bond even if my body couldn’t.

And underneath that was a...tug. Towards what, I didn’t know.

But the longer I meditated, the stronger I felt it till I could no longer sit still.

I stretched as I uncurled from the floor cushions, trying to shake off the shimmer of restless energy coiled under my skin.

Meditation always soothed me and put me at peace.

This session made me want to jump off my balcony and howl at the moon.

Is this what the normal wolves felt during the full moon?

I shook my head, reaching for the glass of water on my bedside drawer. I groaned when I saw that it was empty.

“Samantha, do you think you could—”

I paused when I turned and saw that the Omega caretaker Kieran had assigned to me sat slumped in the armchair by the door, her head tilted to the side, her breathing soft and even.

I winced, feeling a pang of guilt. She must have stayed on her feet all day, fussing over me with meals and medicines, gentle hands always at my elbow.

The guilt stopped me from waking her. She deserved the rest—and I could get my own damn water.

So, wrapping a robe around me, I moved alone, bare feet brushing the cool tiles as I slipped through the hall toward the kitchen, careful not to put too much pressure on my ankle.

The night air clung heavy with salt and hibiscus, and my body felt both too light and too heavy at once.

I pushed open the kitchen door quietly.

And found him there.

Kieran stood at the counter, glass in hand, broad shoulders outlined in the shadows. He turned at the sound of me, his eyes catching the moonlight—obsidian, yet somehow impossibly bright.

For a moment, I thought the moon itself had slipped into the kitchen and taken human form.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was low, almost harsh. Then his gaze flicked past me toward the hall. “Where’s your Omega?”

I swallowed against the sudden lump that had formed in my throat. “Asleep. I didn’t want to wake her.”

He set the glass down harder than he needed to. “She was supposed to take care of you. You’re not supposed to be on your feet.”

I rolled my eyes. “C’mon, the doctor said I was fine, and I can barely feel the pain now.”

His jaw clenched. “When I give orders, I expect them to be followed.”

He pushed away from the counter. I lifted a hand before he could storm off and tear a new one into poor Samantha.

“Don’t.” The word came out softer than I meant, but it stopped him. “She’s worked hard all day. I’m fine. I can walk to the kitchen for water without incident.”

His eyes narrowed, and he looked like he wanted to argue further, but when I didn’t break eye contact, he exhaled softly, and his body relaxed.

Silence filled the kitchen, thick with the hum of the refrigerator and the steady echo of the ocean outside.

A memory—of another kitchen in another house on another moonlit night, just me and Kieran—rose up in my mind.

‘I want a divorce.’

I shoved it down, down, down.

Kieran leaned back against the counter, and I tried to ignore his burning gaze as I filled my glass and turned to leave.

But I’d barely taken two steps forward when my toe caught against the lip of the tile.

The room tilted, my breath caught in my throat—

—and suddenly I was in Kieran’s arms.

His arm banded around my waist, pulling me tight against the unyielding strength of his chest.

The world spun, then steadied, and suddenly all I could hear was the rapid staccato of my pulse and the slow but uneven rhythm of his breath.

My palms pressed against him, the warmth of his body sinking straight into mine.

“Careful,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp, warm against my temple.

I should have stepped back, should have pushed away, but...

That damned pull between us—the one I’d tried so hard to bury with resolve and sheer force of will—surged like a live wire, coursing from his grip at my waist to every nerve in my body.

I tilted my head back to meet his eyes, and the look there unraveled me.

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