The door burst open with a thunderous crash, splintering wood echoing through the room. In the wreckage of the frame stood a figure cloaked in shadow, tall and imposing. The broken door lay in fragments at his feet, its hinges groaning as they hung askew. “No,” the voice said, low and unyielding, cutting through the air like a blade. “She belongs to me.” That voice. I froze, my breath caught in my throat. Even in the chaos, even in the darkest moments, I would know that voice anywhere. It was him. My Lycan King. Relief surged through me, almost overwhelming. He had come. He had found me. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I allowed myself to believe I might be safe. My trembling hands fell to my sides as I let out a shaky exhale. Sid, on the other hand, wasn’t so composed. His head whipped around, panic etched into every line of his face. “Security!” he barked, his voice cracking. “Where the hell are the bouncers?” No one answered. Callahan didn’t move
Callahan carried me down the stairs, his arms steady and secure despite the chaos of the night. I couldn’t explain it, but the moment he held me, the crushing weight of anxiety that had been suffocating me all evening began to lift. Exhaustion washed over me, heavy and inescapable. His footsteps were measured, quiet against the carpeted steps, but each one seemed to echo in my ears. I buried my face against his chest, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat anchor me. His scent, warm and woodsy, was oddly comforting. The party below carried on as if nothing had happened, laughter and music spilling through the air. No one had a clue about what had transpired upstairs. Callahan, with his controlled demeanor, seemed determined to keep it that way. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Sid sprawled on the floor, his body twitching, his eyes wide and lifeless with fear. His gaze followed me as Callahan descended the stairs, but I couldn’t bear to look at him any long
**My heart was racing, my breath catching in my throat.** His face was impossibly close, his golden eyes locked on mine, their intensity enough to unravel me. I froze, every muscle taut as if waiting for a command I couldn’t hear. Then his lips brushed my ear—just the faintest whisper of contact, soft and fleeting. The sensation sent a shiver coursing down my spine, stealing the breath from my lungs. I gasped before I could stop myself, heat blooming where his breath tickled my skin. What was this? I wasn’t even in heat, yet his proximity was unraveling every shred of my composure. Callahan didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned closer, crowding me until his presence was all I could feel. His lips, so maddeningly near, could be mine with the smallest shift. Just one turn of my head, one bold move… But no. His words echoed in my mind: *“Seduce me.”* The audacity of his challenge struck a raw nerve. Did he think I was Cynthia? Someone who played cheap games to gain his a
**My breath hitched in my throat as my heart began to race.** I couldn’t focus on anything except the proximity of Callahan. His face was so close now—barely an inch away—and I could feel his breath against my ear. The warmth of it sent a shiver down my spine, and my body went stiff in response. Then his lips brushed against my earlobe. It was just a whisper of a touch, but it was enough to make my pulse spike. My entire body seemed to react, to crave more, even though nothing was stirring inside me. Not in the way it used to. His presence consumed me, but he didn’t back away. No, he stayed right there, impossibly close. All I had to do was turn my head, lean just a little bit to the left—and I would be kissing him. But I wasn’t Cynthia. I wasn’t someone who could play games to make a man want me. His subtle challenge, that dangerous dare to seduce him, made my stomach churn. I refused to fall into that trap. I took a breath, but my hands still shook. I clenched them into
**Zenovia** I stared at him, trying to make sense of what he had just said. “You bought every single one of those dresses? In my wardrobe?” Callahan’s lips curled into a slow smile, his eyes glowing with something I couldn’t quite identify. “Every one of them, Zee. I know your measurements perfectly.” His words sent a chill down my spine, and my heart skipped a beat. His gaze lingered, but not on my eyes—no, it was lower. My dress had slipped down just a little during our heated kiss, revealing more of my skin. I could feel his gaze tracing the line of my exposed cleavage. I almost wanted to cover myself, but his eyes were too intense, too consuming. Then, I heard it—a low, almost animalistic growl. He immediately forced himself to look back up at my face, his expression darkening. “I want to see my mark on you.” A heat bloomed in my chest at his words, and before I could stop myself, I blurted, “Only if you kiss me.” Why had I said that? What was happening to me? Was
**Zenovia** His fingers traced the mark on my skin—slow, deliberate, sending shivers of sensation through me. Each soft touch felt impossibly intimate, a combination of tenderness and power that made me ache in ways I didn’t understand. I gasped when I felt the heat of his hand land on my backside, the sting sharp but followed by the warmth of his touch as he rubbed the spot. “Do you remember running away from me?” he asked, his voice a low growl that sent a thrill down my spine. “Ahh,” I whimpered as another slap followed the first, sharp and intoxicating. “Worrying me like that, Zee,” he continued, his tone stern. His hand fell again, the sting and warmth blending together in a way I couldn’t explain. I hated how much I craved it. The sharp pain spread through my skin, but then, just as quickly, his hand soothed the spot with gentle strokes, almost as though he was healing me from the inside out. I shouldn’t want this. It didn’t make sense. But every part of me lo
“What? No... please don’t leave me like this!” I pleaded, but Callahan didn’t even glance back at me. His movements were slow and methodical, as if unaffected by the tension hanging between us. He finished rolling his sleeves down, buttoned his shirt, and then, without another word, walked toward the driver’s seat.I was left standing there, a storm of frustration and confusion swirling inside me. Why had he left me hanging like this? The memory of his touch—the way his lips had kissed me, how he’d devoured me—still clung to my skin, leaving me feeling electric, alive, yet unfulfilled.The raw, intense feelings he’d sparked in me moments ago were still buzzing, but now they were abruptly snuffed out. I could still feel his hands on me, his mouth exploring my body. Every nerve in me ached for more. And yet, here I was—alone, watching him walk away as though nothing had happened. He didn’t even seem to care that I was burning with desire. It wasn’t just the physical frustration—it was
The door clicked shut behind me, and for the first time in hours, I felt my body release the tension that had built up inside. I leaned against the cool wood for a moment, breathing deeply. It felt like I was finally alone, away from the storm of thoughts and emotions that had been swirling inside me. I stumbled over to the bed and collapsed, letting my body sink into the softness of the mattress. I closed my eyes, hoping sleep would claim me quickly. But my mind had other plans. Instead of drifting into peaceful oblivion, I was bombarded with flashes of memories—fragments of a past I could never seem to escape.I saw my father, distant and cold, brushing aside my concerns as if they were nothing. I remembered the cruel words he’d spoken, telling me I wasn’t his blood, that I was nothing more than a reminder of a life he never wanted. Sid’s face followed—his twisted desire, his claim that he wanted me, that he’d protect me. I shuddered.As my mind raced through these memories, the on
The room fell silent, all eyes shifting between me, Cynthia, and Aleksander. His expression revealed nothing as he considered my judgment."Mercy," he finally remarked, "can be mistaken for weakness.""True mercy requires greater strength than vengeance," I countered calmly. "To heal rather than destroy, to rebuild rather than discard—these are not the actions of the weak."Something flickered across his face—not quite approval, but perhaps reassessment. "The judgment seems... appropriate," he conceded. "Though I would add one condition."I raised an eyebrow, waiting."During her year of service, she will spend one month in my territory, assisting our healers with the spring birthing season. She will see firsthand how packs can differ yet still respect each other's ways."The proposal surprised me—it was both a punishment and an opportunity, a chance for Cynthia to expand her understanding beyond the narrow confines of her prejudice.I glanced at Dalton, who gave a subtle nod, then at
The formal welcoming ceremony for Aleksander's pack was a masterpiece of carefully orchestrated pageantry. Every detail had been planned to demonstrate our pack's strength while honoring our guests—a delicate balance struck between power and hospitality.I stood at Dalton's side before the great stone archway that marked the entrance to our central compound, dressed in ceremonial garments that blended traditional pack symbols with subtle elements that marked me as Dalton's mate. As promised, I wore no magical protection, though Dalton had insisted on having Eliza work subtle strengthening spells into the embroidery of my jacket—"Not protection," he'd argued when I'd raised an eyebrow, "just enhancement of your natural abilities. Even Aleksander can't object to that."The distant sound of drums announced the Winter's Edge pack's approach. They moved with military precision, Aleksander at their head, his tall figure imposing even at a distance. Behind him marched his highest-ranking pac
Victor's expression was stone. "Enough, Cynthia.""The matter will be settled according to both our packs' laws," I interjected, unwilling to see her executed despite everything she'd done. "As the wronged party, I'll have a say in her fate."Aleksander's eyebrows rose again. "Mercy from an omega. How... unexpected.""Justice," I corrected. "Not revenge. That's the difference between leadership and tyranny."Something flickered in his cold eyes—not warmth, exactly, but perhaps a reluctant reassessment. "We'll see if you maintain that philosophy after spending more time as an Alpha's mate." He gestured to his pack members. "We return to our camp. The formal meeting will proceed tomorrow as originally planned."As they turned to leave, Cynthia was firmly escorted between two of Aleksander's guards—clearly now his prisoner rather than his informant. She twisted to look back at me, her expression a complex mixture of hatred and fear."This isn't over," she hissed.I met her gaze steadily.
My stomach dropped at the sight of her. She looked different—her usual polished appearance replaced by something harder, her blonde hair pulled back severely, her posture rigid with purpose. Her eyes found mine immediately, a small, triumphant smile playing at the corners of her mouth.The two groups halted a respectful distance apart, the morning breeze carrying scents between us—the unfamiliar, pine-and-snow smell of the Winter's Edge pack mixing with our own forest-and-earth scent.Protocol dictated that as the junior Alpha's representative, I should speak first, acknowledging Aleksander's status and thanking him for agreeing to this meeting. But before I could open my mouth, Cynthia stepped forward."This is the one I told you about," she said to Aleksander, her voice carrying clearly across the clearing. "The omega who ensorcelled our Alpha."A ripple of tension went through my escort. Victor's hand twitched at his side, his expression unreadable as he watched his daughter.Aleks
As the room cleared, Dalton maintained his grip on me, silently indicating I should remain. Once we were alone, his carefully controlled expression cracked, revealing the turmoil beneath."You can't seriously be considering this," he said, his voice low and intense."It's our best option," I replied, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "If I face him directly, on my terms—""He could kill you," Dalton cut in harshly. "Do you understand that? This isn't just pack politics, Oliver. Aleksander considers omega males an abomination. In his territory, they don't survive presentation."I swallowed hard. "I know. But that's exactly why this might work. He's expecting me to be weak, to hide. If I show strength—""He might respect it," Dalton acknowledged reluctantly. "Or he might see it as a challenge to his worldview that must be eliminated."I stepped closer, placing my free hand against his chest, feeling the strong, rapid beat of his heart. "Then we make sure elimination isn't an o
"Aleksander's pack approaches," Dalton began once we were seated, Dalton at the head of the table and me to his right. "And Cynthia has fled, likely to join them with false accusations against my mate.""False according to whom?" Victor challenged, his voice tight with barely controlled rage. "My daughter has served this pack loyally for years. She was raised to be your mate, to stand at your side as Alpha female. Instead, you publicly humiliate her for—" His eyes flicked dismissively toward me, "—this."A low growl rumbled from Dalton's chest, a sound that made the hairs on my neck stand on end. "Choose your next words carefully, Victor."The older wolf didn't back down. "The pack has a right to question your judgment in this matter. Aleksander certainly will.""My judgment is sound," Dalton replied, his voice dangerously even. "And your daughter attempted to kill my claimed mate. She's lucky exile is all she faces."Murmurs spread around the table at this. Exile was one of the harsh
Chapter"To check my injuries," I explained. "And to warn me about Aleksander."Dalton's expression darkened. "What exactly did she say?""That sometimes love isn't enough. That it takes strategy, too." I moved to the window, looking out at the pack grounds bathed in the day's fading light. Members were already moving with purpose, responding to what must have been Matteo's alerts. "She's right, Dalton. If we face Aleksander head-on about this, we risk everything—the alliance, the pack's safety, your authority.""What are you suggesting?" His voice was cautious.I turned back to him, an idea forming—one I wasn't sure I had the courage to voice. "What if... what if Aleksander doesn't see me as your mate when he arrives?"Dalton's eyes narrowed. "Absolutely not. I won't hide you, Oliver. I won't pretend our bond doesn't exist.""Not forever," I clarified quickly. "Just until the alliance is secured. Until we can find a way to introduce the idea more... gradually.""Deception isn't my wa
He turned to me, his golden eyes fierce. "Their opinions don't matter. I am the Alpha.""But their cooperation does matter," I pointed out gently. "Especially with the Northern Alliance meeting coming up."Dalton's expression darkened. "Matteo told you.""Cynthia did, actually," I corrected. "Right before she tried to cut my throat with a piece of broken glass."He winced, setting down the plate he'd been holding and moving closer to me. His hands came to rest on my shoulders, thumbs brushing against the fabric of my borrowed shirt."I should have told you," he admitted, his voice dropping. "I just... I didn't want to taint what we have with pack politics. Not yet."I leaned into his touch despite myself. "I need to know what we're facing, Dalton. All of it."He sighed, then nodded toward the dining table. "Let's eat. This conversation requires sustenance."We settled at the table, the domesticity of sharing a meal together still novel enough to send a ripple of warmth through me desp
I spent the rest of the day in a state of anxious anticipation. After cleaning up the broken glass and attending to my bruises—which were already fading thanks to my werewolf healing—Dalton had reluctantly left to deal with Cynthia and inform the pack council about the incident. He'd been hesitant to leave me alone again, but I insisted. I needed time to process everything that had happened.The Northern Alliance. The treaty negotiations. The fact that our relationship might trigger political consequences I hadn't even considered when I'd surrendered to the bliss of our claiming.I paced the length of Dalton's quarters—our quarters—trying to organize my thoughts. The initial euphoria of being chosen, of finally belonging, had been tempered by the harsh reality of what our union might cost the pack. Cost Dalton.A knock at the door interrupted my spiraling thoughts."Come in," I called, half-expecting it to be Dalton returning.Instead, Eliza—the pack's healer and one of the few who ha