Chapter 16: Mistaken Identity
Chapter 16: Mistaken Identity
(Hector’s POV)
“Ethan, you’re back…” Samantha murmured, her fingers warm against my wrist.
I froze instantly. Her voice was soft, dreamlike.
She was clearly mistaking me for her mate in her half–asleep state.
“The sofa is so uncomfortable,” she continued, her eyes still closed. “Carry me to bed?”
My heart pounded against my ribs. This was inappropriate. I should wake her, explain her mistake.
Instead, I found myself carefully sliding one arm beneath her knees.
The other arm wrapped around her shoulders, lifting her against my chest. She weighed almost nothing.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her head nestling perfectly against my shoulder.
Her scent enveloped me- a delicate mix of healing herbs and something uniquely her. Intoxicating.
I carried her up the stairs, feeling her warmth seep through my clothes. She was noticeably lighter than when we’d worked
together three years ago.
During our healing missions in the Southern Territories, she’d been vibrant and strong. A powerful healer with remarkable
stamina.
This version of Samantha felt almost fragile by comparison.
Her warm breath tickled my neck as I navigated the hallway. Each exhale sent an unwelcome shiver down my spine.
I initially headed toward the guest bedroom, then stopped. That room was cold, impersonal.
Without hesitation, I changed direction toward my own bedroom. The sheets were fresh, the space warm and
comfortable.
I placed her gently on the bed, careful not to disturb her rest. She immediately curled into the blankets.
A small, contented smile touched her lips as she settled deeper into sleep. The sight was strangely captivating.
For a moment, I couldn’t move. The Luna of the Northern Territory was sleeping peacefully in my bed.
The political implications alone were explosive. If Ethan Blackwood knew…
I stepped back quietly, pulling the door nearly closed behind me. In the hallway, my phone vibrated in my pocket.
The screen illuminated with an incoming call: “Ethan Blackwood.”
The irony wasn’t lost on me. Three years ago, Samantha had shown me her phone during our healing mission.
She’d saved him as “My Alpha” with a heart emoji. Her eyes had sparkled when she’d mentioned him.
That memory contrasted sharply with the sleeping woman in my bedroom, who had fled from that same man.
I silenced the call and slipped the phone back into my pocket. Some conversations were better had in person.
(Samantha’s POV)
I woke with a violent jolt, instantly disoriented. This wasn’t my bedroom.
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+15 Puntos >
The sheets beneath me were dark silk, not my preferred cream cotton. The pillows smelled of sandalwood and pine, not Ethan’s familiar cologne.
With horrifying clarity, everything rushed back. I was in Hector Grayson’s bedroom.
“Oh my god,” I whispered, mortification washing over me in waves.
Had I called him Ethan? Had I actually asked him to carry me to bed? The memory made me want to disappear.
I scrambled out of bed, my heart racing. My clothes were rumpled from sleep.
I quickly folded the blanket that had been draped over me, trying to erase evidence of my embarrassing behavior.
I needed to find Hector immediately and apologize. This was beyond inappropriate.
I hurried downstairs, following the sounds and scents coming from the kitchen. The aroma of spiced meat made my stomach growl despite my embarrassment.
Hector stood at the counter, his tall form commanding the space. His movements were precise as he worked.
“I am so sorry,” I blurted from the doorway. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on your couch, let alone…”
Hector turned, his dark gray eyes unreadable. “You were exhausted. There’s no need for apologies.”
“Still, it was completely inappropriate,” I insisted. “Sleep deprivation makes me confused sometimes. I thought you were…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
“I’ve seen the news,” he said, mercifully changing the subject. “About you and Blackwood.”
I winced visibly. “Everyone has, it seems. I can’t escape it.”
“Would you like to talk about it?” His tone was carefully neutral, offering neither pity nor judgment.
“Not particularly,” I admitted, grateful for his directness. “But thank you for asking. Most people just want gossip.”
He nodded once, accepting my boundary without pushing further. “I’m preparing dinner. It will be ready in about twenty minutes if you’d care to join me.”
The subject change was exactly what I needed. “I’d like that very much. Can I help with anything?”
“Just make yourself comfortable,” he said, gesturing toward the living room. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”
I retreated gratefully, pulling out my phone once alone. What I saw made my stomach clench – dozens of missed calls
from Ethan.
Text messages demanded to know where I was, who I was with. Each message grew progressively more frantic and
angry.
A profound wave of loneliness washed over me unexpectedly. Without my grandmother or a functional relationship with Ethan, I had few genuine connections.
I’d given everything to being Luna, to supporting Ethan’s ambitions. In the process, I’d neglected to nurture other
relationships.
Now I was essentially alone in the world.
“Dinner is ready,” Hector called, interrupting my spiraling thoughts.
I returned to find a table set with an array of dishes that made my mouth water instantly. The presentation was immaculate.
Spicy venison steak, herb–crusted lamb, and several side dishes I immediately recognized from the Southern Territories.
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“This is incredible,” I said, taking a seat. “How did you know these were my favorites?”
“A fortunate coincidence,” he replied, though his slight smile suggested otherwise.
I took a bite of the venison and couldn’t help closing my eyes. The flavors exploded on my tongue.
+15 Puntos >
“This tastes exactly like the dishes from The Silver Fang Restaurant in the Southern Territories,” I said in amazement.
Hector’s expression softened slightly. “We visited there during our joint healing mission three years ago.”
“You remember that?” I asked, genuinely surprised. “That was just a casual dinner after treating those territorial dispute
victims.”
“Of course I remember,” he said, serving himself with elegant movements. “You were particularly fond of their spiced
venison. You ordered it three nights in a row.”
I took another bite, savoring the complex flavors. “Did you order takeout from there? This is identical, down to the spice
blend.”
“Just something I made,” he said dismissively, reaching for a bottle of wine.
He retrieved an elegant corkscrew from a drawer – a stainless steel tool with an intricately designed seahorse handle
inlaid with small sapphires.
“Would you care for some Crimson Count Reserve?” he asked, beginning to open the bottle.
I hesitated, then decided honesty was simplest. “No, thank you. I’m…” I paused, realizing this would be the first time I’d said it aloud to anyone. “I’m pregnant.”
Hector froze completely, the Seahorse Corkscrew suspended mid–air. His dark gray eyes widened slightly, the only
indication of his surprise at this unexpected revelation.
