As soon as the press conference ends and we get outside, Skye sweeps me into her arms without a word. Before I can even process what’s happening, we’re soaring through the air, the wind whipping past us as we ascend rapidly. The city below shrinks to a glittering tapestry of lights, the world falling away as Skye carries me higher and higher.

My heart races, partly from the exhilaration of flight and partly from the intoxicating closeness of Skye’s body pressed against mine. Her arms are strong and secure around me, her emerald eyes locked on our destination with fierce determination.

We touch down on the balcony of Skye’s penthouse with barely a sound. As soon as my feet hit the ground, Skye’s lips are on mine, hungry and demanding. She kicks open the balcony door without breaking the kiss, guiding me backward into the dimly lit bedroom.

Skye’s fingers trail down my chest, leaving a path of tingling electricity in their wake. With a swift, fluid motion, she grips the fabric of my shirt and rips it off my head, throwing it onto the ground near the bed.

Her lips crash back onto mine, hungry and insistent. The kiss is all-consuming, a storm of passion that threatens to sweep me away. I’m drowning in the taste of her, the feel of her body pressed against mine. Her tongue dances with mine, exploring, claiming.

Skye breaks the kiss, her emerald eyes dark with desire as they roam over my exposed chest. A predatory smile plays on her lips. “Oh, Luke,” she purrs. “You have no idea how hard it’s been to stay away from you this past week.”

Her fingers trace patterns across my skin, igniting sparks wherever they touch. “I watched you, you know,” she continues, her gaze intense. “Every day, every night. I saw how you longed for me, how you pined like a sad little puppy.”

She leans in, her lips brushing against my ear as she whispers, “It was delicious torture, seeing you so desperate for me. So needy.”

A shiver runs down my spine at her words, a mixture of embarrassment and arousal coursing through me. Skye’s teeth graze my earlobe, eliciting a soft gasp from me.

“I saw you watching my interviews,” she murmurs, her breath hot against my skin. “The way your eyes lit up when I appeared on screen, the way you hung on my every word.” Her lips trail down my neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “It was intoxicating, knowing I had such power over you.”

Skye’s hands roam over my body, exploring every inch of exposed skin. Her touch is both gentle and possessive as if she’s mapping out territory that belongs solely to her.

Skye’s emerald eyes gleam with a predatory intensity as she continues her confession. “I saw you watching the Scarlett interview. Pre-taping and all,” she purrs, her voice low and sultry. “The way your face fell, how your little heart shattered into a million pieces.” Her fingers trace the outline of my jaw, tilting my chin up to meet her gaze. “It was exquisite watching you break.”

A small whimper escapes my lips, the memory of that pain still fresh. But instead of comfort, Skye’s smile only grows wider, more feral. She looks like a tiger savoring her prey, relishing every moment of the hunt.

“I’m sorry, my darling,” she coos, but the words are contradicted by the triumphant gleam in her eyes. “It was necessary, you see. I needed to push you to the brink to make you truly understand how much you need me.”

Her hands slide down my chest. “And oh, how you need me,” she breathes, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

The power dynamic between us is palpable, electric. Skye towers over me, her presence filling the room, commanding and irresistible. I’m helpless before her, utterly enthralled by her strength, her beauty, her sheer force of will.

Unable to resist any longer, I reach up and pull her down onto the bed with me. She lands on top, straddling my hips, her weight a delicious pressure. “I need you,” I gasp, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. “God, Skye, I need you so much.”

Skye’s eyes go wide for a moment, surprise flickering across her features before being replaced by smug satisfaction. She leans down, her lips barely brushing against mine as she speaks.

“Look at you,” she murmurs, her voice filled with wonder. “So gorgeous, so desperate for me.” Her hand cups my cheek, thumb tracing my lower lip. “You’re perfect like this, you know. Wanting, needing, aching for my touch.”

She shifts slightly, and I can feel every curve of her body pressed against mine. The heat between us is scorching, threatening to consume us both. Skye’s eyes lock with mine, filled with a possessive hunger that makes my heart race.

She begins trailing kisses down my neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. I gasp and arch into her touch, overwhelmed by the sensations. Her lips continue their journey downward, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

When she reaches my chest, her tongue darts out, tracing intricate patterns across my skin. The warm, wet slide of it sends shivers through my entire body. I tangle my fingers in her hair, holding her close as she lavishes attention on every inch of my torso.

Slowly, torturously slowly, she makes her way lower. Her emerald eyes flick up to meet mine, filled with mischief and hunger. I feel my breath catch in my throat as she hovers just above the waistband of my pants, her hot breath teasing the sensitive skin there.

Just as her fingers hook into my waistband, ready to relieve me of the last barrier between us, a sharp knock echoes through the room.

Skye lets out a long, frustrated groan that seems to go on forever. Her head drops to rest against my stomach, her breath coming out in annoyed puffs against my skin. “Who the fuck is it?” she growls, her voice muffled.

She lifts her head, her eyes narrowing as she stares intently at the door. I remember that she has X-ray vision, able to see right through the solid wood.

“Just ignore it,” I plead, my voice desperate. I reach for her, trying to draw her back up my body. “Please, Skye, come back.”

Skye sighs heavily, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She turns back to me, her expression a mixture of frustration and disbelief. “It’s your mother,” she says flatly.

I feel the passionate mood evaporate instantly, replaced by a cold, hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. “But I don’t have a mom here,” I say, my voice sounding small and lost even to my own ears.

Skye’s emerald eyes soften with understanding. “You have a sister, though?” she prompts gently.

I sigh deeply. “I see what you mean,” I murmur, running a hand through my disheveled hair.

I look up at Skye, searching her face for answers. “Is my mom... a lot in this world too?” I ask hesitantly, almost afraid of the answer.

Skye nods emphatically, her expression a mixture of amusement and sympathy. “Oh, big time,” she confirms, her lips quirking into a wry smile. “She sure is.”

I sigh again, longer this time, steeling myself for what’s to come. The prospect of facing an alternate version of my mother, especially one described as “a lot,” feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, about to leap into the unknown.

Skye rises from the bed, her movements graceful despite the abrupt change in atmosphere. “Put your shirt on,” she instructs her tone a curious blend of command and concern. “I can’t have my fiancé be indecent.”

I pull the shirt over my head, wincing slightly as the fabric brushes against the sensitive spots where Skye’s lips had been just minutes before. The memory of her touch lingers on my skin, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been if not for this interruption.

Skye moves to the door, her hand hovering over the handle. She turns back to me, her eyes scanning my appearance critically. “Ready?”

Skye opens the door with a fluid motion, revealing the figure standing in the hallway. My breath catches in my throat as I take in the sight of my mother, or rather, this world’s version of her.

She’s taller than I remember, her posture straight, exuding an aura of elegance and authority. Her silver hair is swept up in an intricate updo, not a strand out of place. She’s dressed in a tailored suit that looks like it costs more than most people’s monthly salary, the fabric shimmering subtly in the dim light of the penthouse.

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As she strolls into the room, her heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor, I’m struck by the sheer presence she commands. This woman isn’t just elegant. She’s regal, carrying herself with the air of someone accustomed to being obeyed without question.

Her eyes sweep the room with a cool assessment. There’s an air of arrogance in her gaze, a sense that she’s evaluating everything and everyone against some impossibly high standard.

Then her eyes land on me, and the transformation is instantaneous and breathtaking.

The cool mask of superiority cracks then shatters completely. Her eyes widen, filling with a storm of emotions. Disbelief, joy, grief, love all swirling together in a tempest of feeling. Her lips part in a soft gasp, and I see her hands tremble at her sides.

“Luke?” she whispers.

Before I can respond, she’s across the room in a flurry of motion. Her arms wrap around me, pulling me into an embrace so tight it nearly steals my breath away. I can feel her body shaking against mine, hear the soft, choked sobs she’s trying to suppress.

“My baby,” she murmurs, her voice thick with emotion. “My little boy. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I get to see you all grown up.”

I feel my heart constrict as I return her embrace, the raw emotion in her voice piercing through me. This woman may not be my mother, not exactly, but the pain and longing in her touch are real. I can feel years of grief pouring out of her, a dam of sorrow finally breaking.

“It’s okay,” I murmur, my own voice thick with emotion. “It’s okay, Mom.”

As I hold her, I can’t help but notice the little details that make her both familiar and strange.

Her shoulders, so strong and proud, shake with silent sobs. I can feel the dampness of her tears seeping through my shirt, each drop a testament to years of pent-up grief. The thought of what she must have gone through, losing her son at such a young age to a random supervillain attack and never getting to see him grow up, fills me with a profound sense of pity and sorrow.

I stroke her back gently, feeling the fine fabric of her suit beneath my fingers. Even in this moment of vulnerability, there’s a strength to her, a resilience that speaks of years of carrying on despite unimaginable loss.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she pulls back slightly. Her eyes are rimmed with red, but there’s a spark of joy in them now, a light that seems to have rekindled after years of darkness.

“Look at you,” she whispers, her hands coming up to cup my face. Her touch is gentle, almost reverent, as if she’s afraid I might disappear if she holds on too tightly. “You’re so handsome, so grown up. My little boy...”

I glance over her shoulder, seeking out Skye. She’s standing by the door, her arms crossed over her chest, a slight frown marring her beautiful features. There’s a flicker of annoyance in her emerald eyes, quickly masked as she catches my gaze.

Mom seems to sense the shift in my attention. She straightens up, composing herself with a deep breath. When she turns to face Skye, her eyes are clear and sharp once more, the vulnerability of moments ago hidden behind a mask of strength.

“Skye,” she says, her voice dripping with barely concealed hatred. The single syllable seems to carry years of resentment and mistrust.

Skye meets her gaze unflinchingly, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. “Lioness,” she responds, her tone a clear challenge.

Mom sighs heavily, her shoulders slumping slightly. “That’s not my name anymore,” she says, a hint of weariness creeping into her voice. “I’m retired now.”

I tilt my head, curiosity piqued by this exchange. “You’re a superhero, too?” I ask, my eyes wide with wonder.

Mom turns back to me, a sad smile playing on her lips. “I was,” she says softly, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “But that life is behind me now. I’m too old for all that excitement.” She chuckles, but there’s a hint of melancholy in the sound. “These days, I just want to enjoy life with your father.”

The mention of my father sends a jolt through me. “How is Dad?” I ask eagerly, suddenly realizing how much I’ve missed him.

Mom’s expression softens, a genuine smile lighting up her face. “He’s good,” she says warmly. “He was out shopping when I found out about you. I couldn’t wait. I had to come see you right away.”

Mom’s words hang in the air, the warmth of her smile a stark contrast to the tension that still simmers between her and Skye. I find myself caught in the middle, torn between the comfort of this familiar yet strange maternal figure and the magnetic pull of Skye’s presence.

Skye’s voice cuts through the moment, sharp and dismissive. “Well, you got to see him, Linda. I think you’re good, right?” Her emerald eyes flash dangerously.

Mom’s expression hardens, her jaw clenching visibly. She turns to face Skye fully, her posture shifting from warm mother to formidable opponent in an instant. “Why wasn’t I told about him when he first got here?” she demands, her voice low and intense. “Why keep this from me, Skye?”

Skye rolls her eyes, waving a hand dismissively. “Talk to Dark Star about that, not me,” she retorts, her tone bored and uninterested. “I’m not your personal information hotline, Linda.”

The air in the room grows thick with tension, crackling like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm. Mom’s eyes narrow, her gaze boring into Skye with an intensity that could melt steel. Suddenly, her hand shoots out, grabbing my arm with surprising strength.

“Luke,” she says, her voice urgent and filled with concern, “I don’t think you should be with Skye.” Her eyes flick between Skye and me, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. “She... she killed my boy. Your counterpart in this world.”

I feel my heart stop, the world around me suddenly going silent. “You did?”

Skye’s eyes widen, a flicker of panic crossing her face. For the first time since I’ve met her, I see genuine fear in those emerald depths. “You don’t understand,” she says quickly, her words tumbling out in a rush. “It was an accident. I was just a little girl, only twelve years old.”

Her eyes take on a manic gleam, darting around the room as if seeking an escape. But there’s nowhere to run from the memories that seem to be overwhelming her. “I awoke in the middle of a hug with him,” she continues, her voice trembling. “And then... and then...”

Skye’s breath comes in short, sharp gasps. Her hands shake as she runs them through her hair, disheveling the perfectly styled strands. “I crushed him,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “He fucking exploded.”

The raw pain in her voice is like a physical blow. I watch as the confident, powerful Super Star crumbles before my eyes, replaced by a terrified young girl reliving her worst nightmare. Her eyes are wide and unfocused, seeing not the penthouse around us but the horrific scene from her past.

“There was so much blood,” she murmurs, her voice distant and hollow. “It was everywhere. On my hands, my face, my clothes. I couldn’t escape it.”

I feel my heart breaking for her. Without hesitation, I step forward, separating my mother’s hand from my arm. I wrap my arms around her trembling form. She stiffens for a moment as if expecting rejection or punishment before melting into my embrace.

“It’s okay,” I murmur softly, stroking her hair. “It wasn’t your fault. You were just a kid, and you couldn’t control your powers.”

Skye clings to me, her fingers digging into my back with desperate strength. I now feel her tears soaking through my already wet shirt, her body shaking with silent sobs. In this moment, she’s not the invincible Super Star or the seductive temptress. She’s just a broken, hurting woman who’s carried this burden for far too long.

“I understand,” I continue, my voice gentle but firm. “It was a terrible accident, but it doesn’t define you. You’ve spent your life saving others, trying to make up for what happened.”

*****

[Linda Lion’s POV]

I stand there, frozen in disbelief, as I watch my son, my precious boy, miraculously returned to me across the vast expanse of the multiverse, wrap his arms around that monster. Skye, the very creature who stole my Luke from me all those years ago, now clings to this new Luke like a lifeline.

Her performance is masterful. I’ll give her that. The trembling of her shoulders, the catch in her voice as she recounts that fateful day, it would be enough to fool anyone who didn’t know better. Maybe it isn’t all an act, but I know. A mother can tell.

As Luke murmurs words of comfort, stroking her hair with such tenderness, it makes my heart ache; I see it. The shift is subtle, almost imperceptible, but my eyes catch it nonetheless. Skye’s grip on Luke tightens. And then, over his shoulder, her eyes meet mine.

The transformation is chilling. The vulnerability vanishes in an instant, replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated malice. Her lips curl into a smile so wicked it sends ice through my veins. This is the true face of Super Star, not the adored hero, not the broken girl, but the predator who has set her sights on my son.

“I’m just so thankful,” Skye says, her voice still quivering with false emotion, “to be with someone who truly understands me.” As she speaks, her eyes never leave mine, the evil smile growing wider with each word.

I see Luke pull her in tighter, his arms encircling her completely as if trying to shield her from the world. His eyes close, a look of pure contentment washing over his face. “I love you, Skye,” he murmurs, his voice soft but filled with an intensity that makes my heart hurt.

To my utter shock, Skye’s face completely transforms again. The malicious gleam in her eyes vanishes, replaced by a vulnerability so raw it’s almost painful to witness. Her emerald gaze drops away from mine, focusing entirely on Luke. A deep flush spreads across her cheeks, painting them a delicate pink that stands out against her pale skin.

“I... I love you too,” she whispers back, her voice trembling with an emotion that seems far too genuine to be faked. The words seem to catch in her throat, as if she’s unused to saying them, as if they carry a weight she’s never allowed herself to bear before.

Luke pulls back slightly, cupping Skye’s face in his hands. His thumbs gently brush away the tears that have gathered in the corners of her eyes. “I’ll always be there for you,” he promises, his voice filled with a conviction that leaves no room for doubt. “No matter what happens, no matter what anyone says or thinks, I’m on your side.”

‘What?’

As I watch, they seem to melt into each other, lost in their own world. The tenderness between them is palpable, filling the air with an intimacy that makes me feel like an intruder. Skye’s usual aura of power and control has vanished, replaced by a softness I’ve never seen in her before. She leans into Luke’s touch like a flower turning towards the sun, soaking in his warmth and affection.

‘What the fuck?’

The sight fills me with a mixture of emotions so complex I can barely untangle them. Disgust wars with a grudging admiration for the depth of their connection. Anger at Skye’s past actions clashes with a reluctant sympathy for the broken girl beneath the superhero facade. And underlying it all is a deep, aching sadness for the son I lost, for the life he could have had.

I realize, with a sinking feeling in my gut, that even if I wanted to intervene, to try and save my son from what I still believe to be Skye’s dangerous influence, I’m utterly powerless here. Super Star’s abilities far outstrip my own, even in my prime. And more than that, Luke’s heart is clearly hers. Any attempt to separate them would only push him further away.

Silently, feeling every bit of my age and the weight of my grief, I turn and walk out of the room. Neither Luke nor Skye seems to notice my departure, too wrapped up in each other to spare a thought for anything else.