TEMPORARY MATES PERMANENT CRAVINGS novel Chapter 20

Twenty

Cameron POV

The ambulance siren tore through the night while I held Evangeline’s hand and watched her chest struggle for air. Blood streaked her lips and soaked the collar of her nightgown.

The paramedic moved fast beside her, checking monitors and tightening the oxygen mask. I knew I was in the way, but I couldn’t let go.

Evangeline’s eyes opened with effort.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered through the mask. Tears slid into her hair. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Shh.” I leaned down and pressed my lips to her forehead. “None of this is your fault.”

“But you were finally going to-“”

Her voice broke.

I cupped her face and wiped the tears away. “I told you from the beginning natural conception probably wouldn’t work. This just proves it. We’ll find another way.”

She closed her eyes, breathing shallowly. Then her nose wrinkled and she turned her face away.

“I can smell something on you,” she murmured. “Something strange. It’s making it worse.

I pulled my hand back.

The scent clung faintly to my skin. Lisa’s arousal. The lubricant. My sweat. Guilt slammed into my chest. I had touched another woman, and now my mate was choking on the proof.

“I’m sorry.”

Evangeline shook her head weakly, “No. I’m the one who brought this pain into your life.”

I didn’t answer. I turned toward the small window in the ambulance door and watched the city lights smear across the glass.

My mind dragged backward to earlier that day.

I had buried myself in work from dawn until evening. Border patrol reports. Trade

agreements. Council messages. Anything that kept my mind off the one thing waiting for me.

It hadn’t helped.

Every hour dragged me closer to Lisa’s room. Closer to the moment I would use her body to make an heir.

Closer to betraying everything I believed about bonds and loyalty.

Evangeline called late in the afternoon.

“When are you going to her?”

I didn’t answer.

“Her fertility window starts soon,” she said. “We can’t delay again.”

We performed the muting ritual in her sitting room before sunset.

An ancient rite meant for situations exactly like this.

It didn’t break the bond. It dulled it.

For one month the connection would remain alive but muted. Evangeline wouldn’t feel what I felt when I touched another woman. I wouldn’t feel her pain in return.

That was the promise.

The ritual had worked for generations.

We sat facing each other on the floor. A golden bowl rested between us.

Evangeline pricked her finger first and let a single drop of blood fall into the bowl. I followed.

Our blood mixed at the bottom, dark under candlelight.

Evangeline spoke the words with steady breath even as tears slid down her cheeks.

“I shield my heart from what you must do. The bond remains awake but numb to touch. One month. No more.”

Then it was my turn.

I leaned forward until our foreheads touched, our blood–stained fingers intertwined above the bowl

“I leave the bond awake,” I said.

The moment the words left my mouth, a dull pressure settled behind my

The bond dimmed slightly.

The ritual had taken hold.

So why was Evangeline convulsing now in the back of an ambulance?

Why was she coughing blood?

Why hadn’t the ritual protected her?

ribs.

When bonds strain, the damage isn’t only emotional. Bodies break with them.

The ambulance doors burst open at the hospital and the world dissolved into noise.

Paramedics rushed her inside while shouting instructions I barely followed. I moved after them until a nurse stepped in front of me.

“Alpha, you need to wait here. The doctors will update you.”

I stood under the fluorescent lights while my mate disappeared through swinging doors.

Then I paced.

Back and forth across the tile.

A caged wolf in human skin.

I prayed to the Moon Goddess again and again.

Please don’t take her. Please. I’ll do anything. Just don’t take her.

Two hours crawled by before the doors opened again.

Dr. Beauty stepped out, stripping off her gloves.

“She’s stabilized,” she said. “She’s asleep. You can see her, but don’t wake her. She’s stable for the night.”

The words loosened something in my chest.

I told Nadia Evangeline’s collapse felt like a warning.

“Like the universe telling me this is wrong.”

Nadia shook her head. “You need to go back.”

“I’m not leaving her.”

“I’ll take care of Evangeline.” Her tone hardened. “You need an heir. Time is running out.”

I closed my eyes.

“I ran into Matthias tonight,” she continued. “Do you know what he told me?”

I already knew.

word

“He said his wife is pregnant. Twin boys. They already have a daughter. And he told me, for word, ‘Soon the world will realize the Oracle who chose Cameron over me lied. I’ll prove the throne was stolen.“”

My hands curled.

“I don’t care about Matthias.”

“You should,” Nadia said. “He’s gaining support. And if you don’t produce an heir soon, the rumors become a challenge.”

“Nadia-”

“Go home,” she said. “Go to Lisa. Drink if you have to. Do whatever it takes. But plant your seed and secure your throne.”

I looked back at Evangeline’s door.

Thought about her in that bed, about Lisa alone in the mansion, about Matthias sharpening his knives.

“Go,” Nadia said again, softer now. “I’ll stay. I promise.”

I took a long breath.

Then I went back into the room and leaned over Evangeline.

“I’ll be back in the morning.”

I kissed her forehead.

She didn’t stir.

I left.

I reached the mansion just after one in the morning, went straight to my office, and poured a finger of whiskey.

Then another.

Then several more.

Shifters tolerated alcohol better than humans, but I needed enough to dull the edge,

When I finally stood, the world felt softer around the edges.

I set the empty glass down and headed toward Lisa’s wing.