Alice appeared, setting down Sera's plate. She spooned a portion of food neatly and poured fresh juice into a glass, pretending not to notice the palpable tension filling the room.
"Thank you," Sera murmured softly.
Eric still hadn't looked at her. He cut another piece of steak, mechanical and detached, his focus fixed entirely on his plate.
Sera tried to act unfazed, picking up her fork with trembling fingers. She focused on her meal, but her gaze kept flicking toward him — the line of his jaw, the veins along his wrist, the effortless way he exuded quiet power.
Claudia leaned back in her chair, sipping her wine. "Isn't this nice?" she mused aloud.
Eric's knife scraped against the plate.
"Sera, your mother and I didn't have the time to speak. How come I have never seen you before?" Claudia's eyes, sharp and calculating beneath carefully arched brows, flicked toward her son, then back to the girl at his side.
Sera swallowed hard. "My mum is quite protective," she said carefully, forcing a polite smile even as adrenaline still coursed through her veins. "This is the first time she's allowed me to leave the house alone. And clearly…" Her cheeks heated as she looked down at the table, "I wasn't exactly prepared."
"Nonsense, dear. It was just a simple misunderstanding. Mrs. Thorne and Miss Duvall simply overreacted."
"I'm glad it's all cleared up," she murmured. She hesitated, then dared to look toward Eric. "Any idea when I can go back home?"
Finally, Eric looked up. And the moment his gaze fell on her, he felt it—a sharp, involuntary catch in his chest. She had let her hair fall loose over her shoulders, soft waves framing a face that now held a strange, breath-stealing serenity. The dress she wore clung just enough to hint at curves, modest yet daring, and revealed bare shoulders with the gentlest suggestion of cleavage. His wolf stirred beneath his skin, growling at his own restraint. He blinked, shaking his head.
Claudia, seated at the other end of the table, smiled, eyes glinting with triumph. It didn't matter how grown, stubborn, or dangerous her son was; mothers always found ways to influence events, subtle as a whisper, powerful as a storm.
"Your mother says you are a virgin," Eric said abruptly.
"Yes," Sera answered. She felt the tension in the air, that strange, vibrating pull between her and Eric. Her pulse raced, a wild rhythm she could feel in the tips of her ears, and yet she forced herself to meet his gaze.
"Then when the doctor gets here tomorrow and confirms that, you can leave," Eric said, leaning back slightly.
"Okay," she murmured.
Claudia cleared her throat, rising from her seat. "I'm going to get an early night," she said smoothly. "Today has been quite tedious." Her eyes briefly flicked to Eric, a tiny smirk teasing the corner of her mouth, the unspoken power in her glance making it clear she knew exactly the effect Sera had on him — and that she intended to manipulate it.
"Yeah," Eric said. "Meddling mothers tend to get tired quickly." His remark was casual.
Claudia pursed her lips. "Good night, Sera," she said, turning toward the doorway. "Eric, would you please escort her to her room when you both are done?" The faintest gleam of triumph sparkled in her eyes.
"I know what you are doing, mum," Eric said. "It won't work. She can throw herself at me a million times — she is not going to carry any child of mine."
Sera bit back the icy retort that had formed on her tongue, swallowing it with effort out of respect for Mrs. Blackwood, who still lingered at the threshold.
"I don't know why your hackles are up, Eric," Claudia called over her shoulder. "It sort of seems to me you are trying to convince yourself and not me." The door clicked softly behind her as she exited, leaving the two of them.
"Throw myself at you a million times? Why would I do that? Why would anyone do that? You are nothing special," Sera said.
The look in Eric's eyes was enough to slaughter a wolf. His pupils dilated, his breathing deepened, demanding submission from the insolent woman before him. "Do you have a death wish?"
"Looks like you have problems with people talking back to you," she said, pushing her chair back. Her courage surprised even her. "Well, I have no issues expressing myself. I may have been sheltered all my life, but I happen to know what respect is. You seem to think you're some kind of rare prize that every woman wants to snag."
"That's because I am," he replied smoothly, the arrogance so casual it bordered on charming. He leaned back in his chair. There was a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
Sera scoffed, shaking her head. "Not to me, you aren't." Her heart thundered. She rose, gathering the last shred of her dignity around her. "I can find my own way to my bedroom. Thanks for dinner. Have a good night." She turned and walked away, her spine straight despite the tremor in her hands.
Eric dropped his fork and let out a chuckle. "Who is this girl?" he murmured, his gaze lingering on the empty space where she had stood moments ago. His wolf stirred again, restless.
*****
Vivienne Duvall had been thinking since she returned from the Blackwood estate, her mind a storm of half-formed memories and unease. The girl.
The girl's face… it was familiar. She had seen her somewhere before, she was certain of it. And Vivienne Duvall did not believe in coincidences.
She had done many things in the course of her life — terrible, necessary things — all for one man.
Charles Duvall.
When she had been just a debutante, Vivienne Neville had seen Charles Duvall for the very first time at a lavish garden soirée her father had thrown. Vivienne had been young then. And then she'd seen him.
The Duvall heir. Every girl's whispered fantasy. He'd walked through the crowd with an effortless kind of grace, his white hair slicked back, eyes that made her stumble and fall at his feet. Vivienne had never believed in love at first sight until that moment.