Reclaiming My Broken Luna (Astrid and Killian) novel Chapter 269

Astrid’s POV

“It wasn’t real,” Killian insisted, his voice raw with desperation. “None of it was real.”

I stared at him, disbelief burning through me like an unstoppable fire. His words— “none of it was real” —echoed in my head, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe him.

Not this time. Not after everything. He couldn’t just say it wasn’t real and expect the pain to disappear.

I scoffed, my jaw tightening as the anger simmered just beneath the surface, ready to spill over. “None of it was real?” I repeated, my voice thick with frustration, laced with disbelief. “What, Killian? The dinner? The marriage? You can’t just pretend it doesn’t exist because you suddenly feel guilty!”

It was always the same with him. Killian, always trying to backtrack, always trying to explain things away as if a few desperate words could fix everything.

As if all the hurt he’d caused could vanish the moment he decided to acknowledge it. He didn’t get to rewrite our history just because he couldn’t face the consequences.

He opened his mouth to respond, but something shifted in him. His expression darkened, his eyes clouding over with an intensity I hadn’t seen before.

Before I could even process what was happening, he moved toward me with a sudden force, trapping me against the wall with his arms.

I gasped in shock, my body tensing as his face came dangerously close to mine. His hand reached out as if he wanted to pull me closer, but there was nothing tender or gentle in his touch.

The desperation was gone, replaced by something raw—hungry. His lips hovered too close to mine, his breath warm and ragged against my skin.

“Killian?” I whispered, my voice trembling as I struggled to make sense of what was happening.

This wasn’t like him — “or was it”? My heart raced at our proximity, confusion and fear swirling inside me. What on earth was he doing?

Then it hit me, the sharp, unmistakable scent of him. It was Killian, but not in the way I knew.

His familiar smell, the one that had once brought me comfort, was overwhelmed by something darker. There was a heaviness to it, an unnatural edge that flooded my senses.

Immediately, I knew.

“Killian, you were drugged,” I breathed, the realization slamming into me.

My voice barely steadied as I pushed against his chest, trying to get away from the heat of him, but his body was rigid, his eyes burning with that unsettling intensity.

This is the second time he has been drugged.

The first time, I’d been naive—stupid, even. I had let it happen. I allowed him to do whatever he wanted thinking that I was just fulfilling my duty as his wife — a duty I should have fulfilled long ago.

The drug had overtaken him, filled him with the same uncontrolled desire, and I helped him satiate it.