I Rejected My Obsessive Werebeast novel Chapter 52

Chapter 52

Aurora’s POV

I sat down across from him. Set my glass on the coffee table.

Kane tilted his head. The corner of his mouth lifted. “Is this part of the interview?”

“No.” I leaned back against the sofa. “This is just two people talking.”

His fingers tightened slightly around the glass before relaxing again.

“I like that answer,” he said.

He was quiet for a moment. Then he said: “It’s my birthday today.”

I blinked. “The materials say your birthday is-”

“That’s not my real birthday.” He swirled the wine in his glass. Watched the red liquid climb the sides. “That’s the day I got out of the fighting pit. I put that dow

as my birthday. A fresh start.

He took a small sip. “Today’s the actual one.”

I looked at him. “Happy birthday, then.”

“Thank you?” He smiled.

His eyes remained on the glass. Only an inch of wine was left, and he slowly turned it in his hand.

“It’s not really a day worth remembering.”

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“The girl who was supposed to be my owner,” he said, “she died in a cat accident. On her way to celebrate my birthday.”

My fingers tightened around my glass.

I hadn’t known. I hadn’t known he’d had an owner before. Or that it had ended like that.

He kept going. Slowly. “She wasn’t my official owner. We never got to the paperwork. But she’d promised. Said once I got out of the pit, once was free, she’d be mine.”

He paused. Took another sip. The glass was almost empty.

“She came to see me the day I got out. Third month out of the pit. We were supposed to have dinner. I waited all night. She didn’t show.”

His voice stayed even. He sounded like he’d told the story so many times that he no longer felt much when he spoke about it.

“Got a call from the hospital the next morning.”

The floor lamp lit half his face, leaving the rest in shadow. The dim light sharpened his profile, making him look more distant than usual.

I looked at him. He kept his eyes on the glass. Neither of us spoke for a while.

Then I said: “She was running to you because she wanted you to be happy. She wouldn’t want you to spend this day feeling like this. You being alive, that’s the best thing you can give her.”

He looked up. “Thank you.” His voice had changed. It was softer now, carrying an emotion I hadn’t heard from him before.

“I think I’ve been treating that day like something I couldn’t face,” he said.

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“I never thought about looking at it from the other side.”

The looked at me and held my gaze. Then he said quietly, “You’re a lot like her.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

He set his glass down and stood. “It’s late. We’ve got a lot to do tomorrow”

I stood too. “Yeah.”

He took a step toward the hallway, then another.

The alcohol was catching up with him. His second step faltered, his knee giving way as he stumbled to the side.

I moved without thinking, reaching out to catch his arm.

But he was taller than me. Heavier. When his weight came down it didn’t stop at my hand – it kept coming, pulling me with it.

We went down together.

–

His elbow hit the carpet first. He braced — instinct, muscle memory — and his arm locked beside my head so his body didn’t land on mine. We were close. Very close. Close enough that I could see the curve of his eyelashes. Close enough to count them.

His eyes were unfocused. The wine had pulled the sharpness out of them. He blinked. Slowly. Like he was trying to bring something into focus that kept drifting.

Then his lips moved. “Lena.”

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