Chapter 3 Escape & Surrender
Nyssa POV
I dropped my bag at my feet and looked up at the sky. The moon hung low and full, and its silver light spilled across the asphalt like water.
“She sees us,” Vianna whispered.
“I know,” I said. “She always did.”
Headlights appeared through the trees. The car slowed, and gravel crunched beneath its tires. The driver leaned out, young, human, and smiling politely.
“You the one headed to Lake Placid?”
“Yes.” My voice came out steady.
He popped the trunk, and I slid my bag inside. The door shut behind me with a soft thud, sealing in the warmth of the car and shutting out the scent of pine and betrayal.
As the vehicle pulled away, the forest blurred past, in black and silver streaks under the moon. Every mile that passed between me and the Moonfang Keep loosened something in my chest.
For the first time in two years, I wasn’t Luna Holt.
I was Nyssa Blackwell. And I was free.
The town lights shimmered across the lake like spilled stars when the car finally slowed to a stop. Lake Placid looked nothing like the world I’d left behind. It was clean streets, music drifting from bars, and the scent of woodsmoke instead of wet pine and dominance.
Freedom smelled faintly of cold gin and mountain air.
I paid the driver, hoisted my duffel over my shoulder, and stared up at the grand hotel perched on the hill.
Gold letters glimmered above the doors: The Adirondack Crown. Perfect. I didn’t want a motel or anonymity tonight. I wanted silk sheets, warm lighting, and proof that I still deserved beauty.
The lobby gleamed with polished wood and marble. “Suite, please,” I told the concierge, sliding my ID and card across the desk before he could ask questions. “Something with a view.”
He gave me the look people reserve for heartbreak wrapped in money, half pity, half admiration, and handed over a keycard.
“Top floor, Ms. Blackwell.”
The new name tasted strange and right.
Upstairs, the suite looked out across the frozen lake, and the moonlight glazed everything silver. I unpacked only what I needed, a short black dress, matching heels, and a swipe of crimson lipstick. My hair fell loose around my shoulders.
When I caught my reflection, Vianna hummed approvingly. "Now you look like the one who left, not the one who was left."
“Exactly.”
I ordered dinner, steak, wine, and cheesecake, and devoured it cross-legged on the bed. Each bite felt like reclaiming territory Cassian had stolen, taste, pleasure, and appetite. When the bottle was half-empty, I grabbed my clutch and headed downstairs to the bar.
Warm light, low music, and laughter. The kind of place where strangers became stories.
I chose a stool near the end, crossed my legs, and ordered a dark red martini. For the first time in years, no one called me Luna. No one demanded anything. I could be anyone.
That thought alone made me smile.
A shadow moved beside me. A deep voice, smooth as smoke, “Excuse me, is this seat taken?”
I turned, and for a heartbeat forgot how to speak. The man was tall, his were shoulders broad under a charcoal suit, and his tie was loosened just enough to suggest rebellion. His hair was dark gold, his jaw was rough with end of day stubble, and his eyes were an unsettling shade between gray and blue.
“Not anymore,” I said, sliding my purse aside.
He sat, and signaled the bartender with a flick of his wrist. Everything about him said control, quiet, expensive, and effortless.
“I’m Adrian,” he offered, extending a hand. His grip was firm and warm. “And you are…?”
“Nyssa.” I hesitated a moment, then added, “Blackwell.”
“Pretty name.” His gaze sharpened, curious but not predatory. “You local?”
I laughed softly. “Very much not.”
He studied me over the rim of his glass. “You have the look of someone who’s just burned down a kingdom.”
I arched a brow. “Maybe I have.”
He smiled, slow and devastating. “Then cheers to that.”
Glasses clinked.
We talked, first about trivial things like the cold, the lake, and the absurd price of cocktails. But when he mentioned his company, my curiosity stirred. Apex Systems, he said, a growing tech firm expanding through upstate New York. Artificial-intelligence applications, trading algorithms, and energy solutions. Words that lit up parts of my brain I’d kept buried under pack politics.
“You know stocks?” he asked after I’d corrected one of his market references.
“I know patterns,” I said. “People call them instincts. I call them data wrapped in emotion.”
His eyes gleamed. “That’s…exactly how my analytics director talks.”
“Maybe your analytics director is underpaid.”
He laughed, genuine and surprised. “You remind me of the women who terrify venture capitalists.”
“Good. They deserve it.”
The conversation shifted to numbers, ethics, and design. He listened, really listened, the way Cassian never had. Each question he asked drew more of the real me to the surface, the strategist, the fighter, the woman who built order out of chaos.
When the bartender brought the next round, Adrian leaned closer. “You ever consider working outside…whatever it is you do?”
I tilted my glass. “You offering?”
He nodded. “You’re sharp. And you speak like someone who sees the world in equations. Apex could use that.”
I pretended to think, though the idea thrilled me.
“What position?”
“Strategy and development,” he said easily. “High risk, higher reward.”
“Do I get an office with a view?”
“Only if you make me enough money.”
We both laughed, and the sound dissolved the last of my restraint.
Wine softened the edges of the night. The music slowed. His sleeve brushed my arm, and heat licked up my skin. He smelled like cedar and something darker, success maybe, or danger.
Vianna stirred, curious. "He’s human."
“I know,” I murmured inwardly. "That’s the point."
Adrian caught my half-smile. “What?”
“Nothing,” I said, finishing my drink. “Just thinking it’s been a long time since I enjoyed good company.”
He hesitated, polite enough to let me lead, then asked quietly, “Would you like another drink upstairs? My treat, or yours.”
My pulse thudded. I should have said no. Should have remembered the vows, the shame, and the pack. But those things were ashes now.
I rose from the stool, smoothing the hem of my dress. “Mine,” I said. “I have a better view.”
We walked the hallway without touching, though the space between us hummed. In the elevator, our reflections gleamed in mirrored panels, two strangers bound by curiosity and a need to forget.
When the doors opened to my floor, I led the way, with the keycard steady in my hand. Inside, the suite smelled of roses and expensive wine.
He lingered near the balcony doors, looking out over the lake. “You really just arrived tonight?”
“Just tonight,” I confirmed, setting my clutch aside. “Fresh start.”
He turned toward me. “Then here’s to beginnings.”
I poured what remained of the bottle into two glasses, handed him one, and we drank. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was charged.
Adrian set his glass down first. “You know,” he said, his voice low, “I think you’re going to be dangerous in the best way.”
“Good,” I whispered.
His words hung in the air like a promise, and before I could respond, Adrian closed the distance between us. His hand cupped the side of my face, and his thumb traced the curve of my cheek with a tenderness that caught me off guard. His eyes, that storm-gray blue, searched mine for a heartbeat, and then his lips met mine.
The kiss started soft and exploratory, like he was mapping uncharted territory. His mouth was warm, and tasted of wine and the faint salt of the night air. I leaned into him, my fingers curled into the crisp fabric of his shirt, and he responded by deepening the kiss, his tongue brushing mine in a slow, deliberate dance.
It wasn't rushed or demanding, it was a conversation, each sigh and shift pulling me closer until my back pressed against the cool edge of the suite's desk. A low hum escaped him, vibrating against my lips, and that sound, raw and unguarded, ignited something deep in my core. Vianna purred softly in my mind,
"He's not fumbling. Good."
Adrian's free hand settled at my waist, and his fingers splayed wide as if to anchor us both. He broke the kiss just enough to murmur against my skin, "Tell me if this is too much."
His breath ghosted over my jaw, sending shivers racing down my spine.
"More," I whispered, the word slipping out like a confession.
That was all he needed. With a gentle but firm pressure, he guided me backward toward the bed, and our steps synchronized in the dim glow of the bedside lamp. The mattress dipped under our weight as we sank onto it, his body hovering over mine without crowding.
He kissed me again, slower this time, his lips trailing from my mouth to the sensitive hollow of my throat. Each press was reverent, like he was worshiping the pulse that fluttered there.
My hands roamed up his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath the layers of fabric. He caught my wrists lightly, pinning them above my head with one hand while the other worked the zipper at the side of my dress.
The sound was a soft rasp in the quiet room, and cool air kissed my skin as the fabric loosened. He peeled the dress away with care, sliding it down my shoulders, and over my hips, until it pooled at my feet like a discarded shadow.
I lay there in just my lace underwear, exposed but not vulnerable, not with the way his gaze darkened, not with hunger, but with awe.
"God, Nyssa," he breathed, his voice roughened by restraint. "You're... exquisite."
Heat bloomed in my cheeks, but I arched toward him, emboldened. He released my wrists, and his hands mappes the new terrain, of the dip of my collarbone, and the swell of my hips.
When his palms cupped my breasts, full and heavy, a gasp escaped me. He paused, and his eyes flicked to mine for that silent check-in, then lowered his head.
His mouth closed over one nipple, warm and insistent, and his tongue circled the peak with exquisite patience. I threaded my fingers through his dark gold hair, the strands soft against my skin, and he lavished attention there, sucking gently, then harder, alternating with soft kisses that made my toes curl into the sheets.
Pleasure coiled tight in my belly, in a sweet ache that had me whispering his name like a prayer.
He switched to the other breast, giving it the same devoted care, while his free hand kneaded the first, and his thumb brushed over the dampened tip. It was overwhelming in the best way, a symphony of sensation that blurred the edges of the world until there was only him, and only this.
Vianna's voice was a distant echo, "Humans know how to savor. Who knew?"
Adrian's kisses trailed lower, mapping the plane of my stomach, and the curve of my ribs. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my underwear, sliding them down with the same unhurried grace.
I lifted my hips to help, and he tossed them aside, his breath warm against my inner thighs as he settled between them.
"Adrian..." My voice was a plea, but he shushed me with a kiss to my knee, then higher, parting my legs with gentle hands.
He looked up once more, that devastating smile flickering, before his mouth found me.
The first touch of his tongue was feather light, a teasing glide along my folds that made me arch off the bed.
He hummed in approval, the vibration sending sparks through me, and then he delved deeper, lapping at me with a rhythm that built like a gathering storm.
