A silver bullet no healer can remove. Chronic pain no drug can touch. The strongest Alpha alive has suffered every single night for years. Until an abused 18-year-old lays her bare hands on his spine — and the pain simply stops. "You act like a painkiller," he whispers. He's lying. She's not a painkiller. She's his mate — and he's the last man alive who believes he deserves her. Chapter 1 Isadora's POV "Aren't you ashamed to show up looking like that?" Noah's fingers find the back of my dress and tug — my stepbrother's signature move, right between possessive and degrading. He does this every time — finds fabric, tugs it, waits for me to flinch. If I do, he smiles. If I don't, he tugs harder until I do. My shoulders lock and I want to grab his wrist and snap it backward. But he heals fast and Edward, my stepfather, hits harder. "I mean, really." Noah smooths the dress fabric back down. "This is an Alpha's gala, not a charity drive for the tragically unfashionable whores." His eyes flick to something behind me, and his smirk sharpens. I feel Edward before I see him. "She tried," my stepfather chimes in, adjusting his cufflinks. "Some bitches just don't have the bone structure for formal wear." Bone structure. Of fucking course. I chose this dress because it has boning in the bodice to keep the fabric from pressing against the bruise he left on my ribs two weeks ago. It's still purple at the center, green at the edges, yellow where it's healing. Three layers of concealer on the parts the neckline doesn't cover. I got good at color correction this year. Foundation over purple, peach over green, powder to set the lie. Over Noah's shoulder, I see my mother is crossing the foyer toward us. Heels clicking, chin up, silk dress moving. Martha stops behind Noah, her eyes find me and run a full-body scan. "The concealer you picked does nothing for those marks on your neck." Nice to see you too, Mom. She leans in and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear hard enough to scrape my scalp. "Try not to embarrass us more than you already have by existing." She steps back and gives my shoulder a little squeeze. To anyone watching, it might actually look like affection. "The celebration starts in ten minutes." She doesn't look at any of us when she says it. "For Goddess's sake, Isadora, stay behind me." Her hand clamps around my wrist and she pulls me through the entrance hall, past a cluster of men who look old money, and into the ballroom that opens up like a cathedral with a bar tab. Hundreds of wolves in formalwear, circling, networking, performing. My mother navigates us through the crowd as I hear a man near the ice sculpture leans toward his wife. "Three hundred and three years old and the bastard still fights at Underground Claw every month. My son went last week — said Grimclaw broke a challenger's jaw in the first round and didn't even shift." His wife shakes her head. "Someone needs to tell these boys to stop trying." My mother releases my wrist, finally found someone worth talking to, and I flatten myself against the nearest wall. Thankfully, Edward and Noah follow her. But when the murmur near the entrance changes pitch, I look up. Jared Grimclaw, the Alpha of our pack, is crossing the ballroom floor. Silver hair, scarred shoulders, a walk that doesn't hurry. His shirt is open one button too many and I can see the edge of something — a scar, a tattoo, I don't know — running along his collarbone. He's been alive for centuries, living long and aging slowly as all lycans do, but he looks… forty. And — okay, I'll say it — he's absurdly attractive. His suit looks like it's hanging on for dear life. I know him only as my late father's old friend and colleague in the boxer club he used to work at. Dad spoke about him with a reverence he gave nobody else. My hand tightens around the glass while my face heats for no reason. I look away, look back, look away again. Classic, very subtle, Isadora. Nobody has ever been caught staring less gracefully in the history of staring. When Alpha Jared turns his head toward someone speaking to him and the angle puts his profile in the light, something in my lower stomach pulls tight like a rope being wound. My body detonates from the inside. My skin prickles. My legs dissolve. What the… I've never… This has never… My vision tips and the rest of the room blurs. Every male head within twenty feet rotates toward me like I've activated a biological dinner bell. The look in their eyes… I know that look. I live with it every day. Hell, no. No no no no no. This cannot be my first heat. Not right now! A cramp rips through my abdomen and I feel my thighs shake violently as a few drops of something slick run down it. Sweat beads along my spine and my dress sticks to skin that feels like it's running a fever from the inside out. I need to leave. Now. Yesterday. Last week. I push off the wall and the crowd becomes an obstacle course. My heel twists. My hip catches a table edge. A woman pulls her clutch out of my path like I'm contagious. I'm zigzagging toward the restrooms, vision narrowing, sweat running down my neck, and then the crowd parts for half a second when I see him. Alpha Jared is standing with two men near the far pillar, and he's… watching me. His hand, wrapped around a glass, has gone white at the knuckles. Our eyes meet and a wave rolls through my core, wet and even more violent, completely humiliating. My legs nearly fold on the spot when he takes a step toward me, but I don't wait to find out why exactly. The restroom door appears on my right and I throw myself through it, slam the lock and crumble against it. I dig my heels into the tile and press my spine against the door while the world can't stop shaking. When the door jumps against my back once, I grit my teeth and push back. But when it jumps again, harder and more persistent this time, my heels slide an inch on the tile. I can't let anyone near me, not now. "I can smell you through the door, little sister." Noah's voice is a purr. "You're soaking, aren't you? Don't worry, I'll help you to make it stop. I'll make it feel so good you'll forget you ever said no." No… Please, Goddess. Not him. Anyone but him! I grab the handle with both hands, and for two seconds I hold. The third hit splinters the lock and sends me sprawling across the floor as Noah steps in. He kicks the door shut, his nostrils are wide, pupils gone black, and a grin assembling across his face triggers every alarm my body has ever wired. "There you are…" He breathes in deep and crouches to my level. "How come I didn't know you had a smell?" Because I made sure you didn't know, asshole! Edward had been making advances on me since I was sixteen, so I have been taking aconite pills specifically so degenerates like him and Noah can never scent me or claim me. "Get out." My voice arrives paper-thin. "Or what?" His head tilts. "You'll scream? Go ahead. You think anyone out there is coming for the family embarrassment?" My scalp screams when he grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls me up. He hooks his arm under my ribs and carries me the rest of the way. The sink edge catches my hipbones when he bends me over it, pressing down one hand flat between my shoulder blades. I twist, kick backward and when my heel catches his shin, he hisses. For one second his grip loosens and I lunge for the edge of the counter, but he slams me back down so hard the faucet splits my lip. I can't fight. I can't run. I can barely keep my lungs in the game. When his other hand goes for the hem of my dress, the door ceases to exist. One heartbeat Noah is against me. The next he's airborne, hitting the tile wall with a crack that rearranges porcelain. He crumples and the second he looks up, every drop of blood vacates his face. Alpha Jared stands in what used to be a doorframe. His hands vibrate as he is fighting his transformation with sheer, terrifying willpower. Furious eyes strobe between brown and gold so fast I can't clock which color's in charge. When Noah runs with no parting shot, Alpha Jared turns to me, and I press harder into the sink. He's terrifying and I'm not ready to take a chance with him. He stays in the doorway and asks, "Can you walk?" I try but my knees quit on the first step and his arm is there — one arm, steady around my waist. He lifts me like I weigh nothing. "No one else can handle your scent right now," he says, voice shredded by the shift he's strangling. "You are coming with me." #chapter Chapter 2 Isadora's POV Halfway up the staircase, his chest vibrates against my shoulder when Alpha Jared speaks. "What's your name?" "Isadora." It comes out cracked. "Isadora Marrock." He doesn't ask if I'm William's daughter. I watch my father's name arrive behind his eyes like a door opening into a room he hasn't entered in years. When he pushes a door open with his shoulder, a boy — five years old, maybe more — sits cross-legged on a rug with a coloring book, crayon frozen mid-stroke. He stares up at me like I'm a pizza delivery that showed up at the wrong house. "Dad, did you bring us a new mom?" the boy asks. Alpha Jared sets me on the edge of his bed carefully and turns to the kid. "No, Liam. Isadora's a guest, she needs help." Liam considers this with his whole face, eyebrows doing most of the work. His eyes flick between my torn sleeve, Alpha Jared's half-shifted jaw, and the crayon in his own hand. Then he holds the crayon out to me — a stubby green one, chewed at the end. "You can have this one. It's my second favorite." I take it. My fingers close around a wet, gnawed crayon. "What's your first favorite?" The words come out shaky, pushed through a cramp that's still squeezing my lower stomach. "Blue." He says it like it's obvious. "But blue is for Dad's drawings. You get green because green is for new people." He pauses. "And princesses." I glance at Alpha Jared. His eyes have gone warm, gold bleeding out of brown, and his lips part like he's about to say something. Instead, he blinks, and the softness folds back behind whatever wall he keeps it in. But I saw it. Then he drags a chair to the side of the room and sits, leaving three feet of distance between us. His hands are loose on his knees. Close enough to help. Far enough that I can breathe. Did he choose that distance on purpose? My eyes track to his hands anyway, then to the door, then back. The door is six steps away. His hands haven't moved. A cramp hits and I bite the inside of my cheek, but the trembling in my legs has slowed. My skin is still on fire but it's more like embers now and I don't know if it's the room or the distance from the crowd or him. But something in my body has decided that wherever I am right now is less dangerous than where I was. "First heat?" Alpha Jared asks simply. I nod because my voice is still somewhere on the restroom tiles. His gaze holds mine and there's no hunger in it, no pity either. Just a quiet warmth, and it makes my eyes sting so I look away fast. "Thought so." His voice brings my eyes back and I see how his fingers are shaking while he's rubbing his jaw. "Your body's going to feel like a fever for the next few hours. But it'll pass. And you're safe here, little dove. I promise you that." He says it like a fact. Gravity exists. The earth is round. You're safe here. And somehow I believe him because my shoulders drop. The last time they did that, Dad was still alive. "I need to look at that arm." He nods toward my left side. I follow his gaze and… wow. The sleeve has ridden up past my elbow and Noah's handprint is already blooming across my skin, purple-red and swelling. "I'll explain everything before I do it. Alright?" I stare at him. He's asking permission. His hands rest on his knees, still shaking with that low tremor, and the heat pulses warm through my stomach when I imagine those hands on my arm. "Alright…" My voice sounds tired. He leans forward in the chair, reaches across the gap between us, and stops with his hand an inch from my skin. He waits until I nod again, and only then his fingers close around my wrist. His skin is warmer than I expected, and the heat in my belly stirs at the contact. Nobody made me feel this safe in a long time. No one touched me this gently. His hands are a mess — scars over scars, knuckles thickened from centuries of damage. Rumor has it that he was a deadly warrior back in the days. Would it be polite to ask what happened to him? "These bruises…" His thumb hovers over Edward's yellowed love letter on my hand from last Tuesday. "They are not from tonight." "I bruise easily." The lie slides out polished. I've delivered it to school nurses, pharmacists, and one very persistent grocery clerk. He doesn't push. Just looks at me, and his eyes are so absent of judgment that the truth rises in my throat. Edward hits me, Noah corners me, my mother watches. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep it all from spilling out onto his clean bedsheets. He nods once and returns to the wound, when Liam materializes at my elbow with a first aid kit that's almost as big as his torso. "Here, Dad. The big one." He pops the latch, sets it on the bed, and climbs up next to me to watch Alpha Jared work while I can't stop staring at him. Nobody asked him to get it. Nobody pointed him toward a cabinet. How many times has he done this? Alpha Jared dabs antiseptic along the split skin and I flinch. Liam leans over immediately, inspects the wound, and whispers to me very seriously, "It's okay. Dad's really good at this part." His knee presses against my thigh and doesn't move away. Kids don't think about stuff like that — they just sit where they want to sit. But he picked me, a stranger who's been here ten minutes. That either means he's fearless or lonely. "He's done this before?" I say, watching Liam sort the gauze rolls by size. "More times than a kid his age should have." Alpha Jared caps the antiseptic. "I've got a silver bullet lodged in my spine two years ago. Chronic pain, bad tremors… Liam learned where the kit lives before he learned to tie his shoes." He wraps my forearm, steady despite the tremor. His knuckles brush the inside of my wrist and every nerve I own sends an urgent memo to headquarters. Liam tugs my other sleeve. "Are we going to play together later?" He's got antiseptic on his fingers from helping hold the gauze, looking at me with the unguarded expectation that makes my ribs hurt. This five-year-old just made me feel more wanted than my family has in years. Alpha Jared secures the tape and looks at his son. "Isadora probably has somewhere she needs to be." Somewhere I need to be. He means home, where I sleep in jeans and sneakers because if Edward or Noah gets in, the only plan I have is to run, unless I want to be raped. So yeah, I definitely don't want to be 'somewhere I need to be'. "I don't mind staying." Barely above a whisper. "I don't really want to go home…" Alpha Jared's hands go still as his eyes meet mine. He's reading the gap between what I said and what I mean, and the terrifying part is that he doesn't misunderstand. Liam tugs Alpha Jared's sleeve. "See, Dad? Rora's free. So we can play later." Rora. He's already given me a nickname. "Actually… I'm looking for a nanny for Liam." His voice is careful. "He clearly likes you, so… Maybe you could stay here? If you want, of course." "Okay." This is the most reckless syllable I've ever produced. Before the bravery evaporates, I add: "If my family asks where I went, could you tell them I felt sick and left? So they don't come looking." Alpha Jared's eyes sharpen with a gaze that cuts straight past the words and reads the part I didn't say out loud: that my family looking for me is not a rescue mission. He holds my stare for a beat longer than comfortable, and I watch him file away every implication without asking me to explain a single one. "Done," he says, smooth and simple. Like rerouting a girl's entire life away from the people destroying her is just another item on tonight's list. Liam launches off the bed and wraps himself around my leg like a koala that's been told it's being rehomed. His arms barely make it around my knee. "I'm going to show you all my drawings," he announces into my thigh, voice muffled and absolute. "I have forty-seven." "But first, Liam, let Isadora come to her senses." Alpha Jared stops Liam and turns to me. "Isadora, when you feel better, you can change into any clothes from the wardrobe across the hall and come downstairs once everyone's gone." #chapter Chapter 3 Isadora's POV "Stop it, stop it, stop it…" I am saying it out loud because my brain quit taking directions an hour ago, and every nerve ending tuned to a station I can't switch off. Alpha Jared's scent is baked into the sheets, the walls, the air itself. The heat from the ballroom got worse and pointed — the cramps have migrated lower, deeper. His voice drifts up from downstairs, saying goodnight to the last guests, and every time the low rumble of it reaches me the muscles in my thighs clench on their own. I press my knees together and pray he can't tell when he comes back up. Come on, Rora. Why would he come back up? He told you he'd wait downstairs. He's three hundred years old. He was Dad's friend. You are being disgusting! My hips press into the bed on their own, chasing pressure, and I have to flatten my palms against the mattress and push down to make them stop. I roll over and shove my face into the pillow and breathe him in — black tea, gunpowder, the faint bitter trace of whatever medication he takes for the pain. My spine arches and my hand slides down my stomach before I catch it at my waistband. I sit up so fast the room tilts. No. Absolutely not. Not here. Not about him. An hour passes. Maybe two. The burning retreats, pulling back like a tide, leaving me wrung out and shaky and starving. My stomach growls loud enough to echo off the walls, because the gala canapés were five hours ago. I need something to wear that isn't a ripped dress. Everything inside his wardrobe could clothe a small village. I grab a black t-shirt — soft, worn thin. It hangs to my mid-thighs and the neckline slips off one shoulder. Downstairs, Alpha Jared is in the kitchen reheating leftovers — sleeves rolled up, Liam on the counter swinging his legs. Dear Goddess, those forearms. Scarred, corded, veins running like roads under the skin. His hands move over the counter and my eyes follow them like you watch a fire you know will leave marks. My pulse picks a side. These hands hit Noah tonight. They wrapped my arm. The heat faded hours ago but everything still runs a degree too warm. "Rora!" Liam waves a chicken leg like a scepter. "Dad made the good ones. With the crispy part." "He means the skin," Alpha Jared translates, setting a plate in front of the empty chair. "Sit, eat with us." Liam kicks his legs against the counter while Alpha Jared leans against the sink with his arms crossed, watching the boy eat. His face relaxes, brow going smooth as I sit down and pull the plate toward me. Liam's hand drifts casually across the table toward my chicken. "Liam." Alpha Jared doesn't need to raise his voice. "That's Isadora's plate." Liam's hand freezes. He looks at his father. Looks at me. Looks at the chicken. "It's fine," I say, pushing the crispiest piece toward him. "I don't mind." "He minds," Alpha Jared says. "He has his own food. He's just testing you because you're new." Liam gives me a look of pure betrayal, as if I was supposed to be the easy one and his father just blew the whole operation. My cheeks flush. I just contradicted my Alpha. "Sorry," I mutter toward him, staring at my fork. "I didn't mean to…" "It's okay." He says it almost tenderly. "He's been running this scam since he could reach the table." Alpha Jared grabs a plate from the counter and sits down across from me. Liam goes quiet, focused on dismantling his chicken with both hands. The kitchen settles into the silence that would be comfortable between two people who know each other. We don't. I feel every inch of the gap and his voice is the only thing tonight that's made me feel less like I'm vibrating out of my own skin. "Are you really that famous boxer my father used to be friends with?" The question falls out before I can stop it. Alpha Jared sets down his fork. "Yeah, we worked together. He was the club's manager. William was one of the best men I ever knew. " His voice drops on my father's name, gets rougher. I want to ask more. How exactly did he die? Were you there? Did you two talk about me? But Alpha Jared's knuckles have gone white around the fork, and before I can open my mouth, Liam tugs my sleeve. "Rora, do caterpillars have dreams?" A startled laugh escapes me. "I don't know, buddy. Maybe they dream about being butterflies." His eyes are half-closed, voice going thick. He's fighting sleep and losing. Alpha Jared's knuckles loosen around the fork. The moment of truth passes, and I let it. "And do you think they know they're gonna be butterflies or is it like… a surprise…" Liam's chin hits his chest, and he is out cold, chicken grease on his cheek, hand still curled around my sleeve. Alpha Jared pushes his chair back and rounds the table. He peels Liam's fingers off my sleeve gently. "Alright young man, it's time to go to bed." He lifts Liam with one arm. "Say goodnight to Isadora." Liam's head rolls against his shoulder, "Goodnight, Rora…" Alpha Jared's hand spreads across Liam's back — wide, steady, fingers curved to hold the boy's whole spine. Liam nuzzles into his neck without waking and Alpha Jared shifts him higher, chin resting on top of the boy's head. I watch them disappear up the stairs. What would it feel like if he held me like that? Just because I wanted him to and he wanted to. I shove the thought down so fast I almost choke on it. Then I go upstairs. The bedroom Alpha Jared gave me is down the hall from his — clean sheets, empty closet, a lock on the door that works. I tested it twice. I lie on the covers in his t-shirt. It's the only thing I have — my dress is torn and bloody on the bathroom floor. I pull my knees up and the hem stretches over them. The fabric smells like him. Black tea and gunpowder. I hate that it helps. But it does. He said I'm safe here. I'm safe here. I'm safe here. I'm safe here. I repeat it until my breathing slows. My fists are still clenched around the sheets. My body hasn't gotten the memo that this isn't Edward's house. Damn it, Isadora. Get it together. You're stronger than your demons. But my skin won't shut up. The spot on my wrist where Alpha Jared's fingers wrapped the bandage is still buzzing, and every time I shift in bed the heat flickers back, aimed directly at the memory of his forearms. You are so pathetic, Isadora. Then the scream rips through the hallway and I stop breathing. It seems that guttural, animal around belongs to… Alpha Jared. I'm off the bed and through his door before I finish the thought. Alpha Jared is alone. Convulsing on the bed, drenched in sweat, spine arched so severely his head and heels are the only points touching the mattress. His hands claw at the sheets. His jaw is locked tight enough that I can hear his teeth cracking against each other. That subtle tremor from earlier has become a seismic event. The knife hits the floor. "What do I do?" "Painkillers." Dragged through gravel. "Ran out. I can't…" He doesn't finish. A spasm rips through him and his back bows off the mattress. The sound that comes out of his throat is somewhere between a roar and a sob. You feel this sound in your teeth before your ears process it. I climb onto the bed. Wrap my arms around him from behind. Press my chest against his back and hold on. I've never been this close to a man by choice. Every other time — every single time — I was pinned, cornered, grabbed. The joys of being part of my family. This is different. This is my against his because I choose to be here, and the distance between chosen touch and stolen touch is so enormous that my vision blurs. His muscles lock against me — one terrible second of total rejection. Then the tension breaks slowly, and his body unclenches against mine. The convulsions ease into tremors, the tremors into shivers, the shivers into stillness. His breathing finds a rhythm — ragged, then deep, then slow. My arms tighten around him and I don't let go. "You are a painkiller," he whispers. His hand finds mine on his chest, covers it carefully, even now. Like he's asking if this is okay. "Please, don't leave." #chapter Chapter 4 Isadora's POV Where the hell am I? This is the first thing my brain spits out before the rest of it boots up. Gray light, unfamiliar ceiling, and… oh. My forehead is jammed between Alpha Jared's shoulder blades. One knee is hooked over his hip. My hand is flat on his chest and his breathing is lifting it up and down. Wait… We fell asleep. Together. In HIS bed. I don't move. His back is warm and solid against my chest and I can feel his heartbeat under my palm, slow and steady. No tremors. Whatever I did last night, it worked. The t-shirt has ridden up in my sleep. My bare knee is pressed against his hip and the skin-on-skin contact sends a lazy pulse of heat through my stomach. Please, please, please don't wake up. Give me just five more minutes of this. My jaw isn't clenched. That never happens. My shoulders are down, my hands are open, and I feel like a normal person waking up on a normal morning. That's new. I give myself thirty more seconds. I know that this won't last. "I KNEW IT!" Liam lands on the bed knees first. He must have been awake for a while, and now shoves himself between us like a small, determined wedge. "I knew she was our new mom! I KNEW it! Dad, I told you!" A laugh slips out before I can catch it. When Liam grins up at me, I wonder if he heard the screaming. Alpha Jared shifts. His breathing changes, and I feel the exact moment he wakes up and realizes I'm still pressed against his back. But he says nothing. "Hi, little bug," I say to Liam. "You always wake people up like this?" "Only when it's important," he says. "There's a frog in the garden and he's only there in the morning and you have to see him before he leaves." Alpha Jared rolls onto his back, blinks at the ceiling, then looks sideways at the five-year-old, now sprawled across his chest. He doesn't look at me. Did I do something wrong? He lifts Liam off his chest and sets him on the mattress, then swings his legs over the side of the bed. He stands with his back to me. Rolls his neck, stretches his spine. "Well, we can't miss the frog. But we need your dad's permission first." I say it to Liam but my eyes go to Alpha Jared's back. Please look at me. "Liam, go brush your teeth." Alpha Jared says. He doesn't turn around. "But Dad…" Liam looks at me, eyes wide, like I might overrule this. Sorry, buddy, I don't have that power here. Or, well, anywhere. "Now, Liam." Alpha Jared's voice gains an edge. I give Liam's hair a small ruffle and nod toward the door. He slides off the bed and pads out. The door shuts behind him and my body goes on alert. Something is wrong and I don't know the rules here well enough to know what. "You can take Liam anywhere on the grounds," Alpha Jared says. His voice is a grocery list. "Anywhere except the third floor of this house." Will you ever look at me again? "Does he have a schedule?" If he's going to treat me like staff, I can act like staff. "Meals, nap time, anything I should know?" Finally, he turns around. But my small victory dies in my throat because… wow, his chest. Scars run across it like a map of every battle he's survived. A long one curves from his collarbone to his ribs. His stomach is flat, hard, ridiculous for a man his age, any age. The silver scar on his spine wraps around his left side, disappearing behind his hip. I look at his face. He's looking at me. I pray he didn't catch the detour. "He eats when he's hungry. Naps when he crashes." He turns toward the bathroom, pulls a towel off the hook on the door. "I have meetings today. Liam doesn't need to be around for that. He picks up on things and he worries." He stands there with the towel over his shoulder and the morning light does him no favors. Dark circles under his eyes, lines deeper than yesterday, his left hand trembling against his thigh. I want to cross the room and put my arms around him again. Instead, I let the breath out slowly through my nose. "Anywhere but the third floor. Got it." I stand up before my face can betray how pathetic I am, and walk to the door. *** "There! There! Don't move!" Liam drops to his knees at the edge of the pond and points with his entire arm. A fat green frog sits on a rock, throat pulsing. "He's here every morning. His name is Captain." "You named him Captain?" I ask, smiling. "He looks like a Captain," Liam shrugs. I crouch beside him. The frog blinks once. Behind us, the estate stretches out — rolling green, old oaks, garden paths disappearing into hedgerows. "Rora, do you think Captain has a family?" Liam's got mud on both knees and one elbow but his whole face is pointed at that frog. Goddess, this kid. I wonder where his mother is. If she left, if she died, if she knows what she's missing. "Probably. Somewhere in that pond." He thinks about this. Nods seriously. Then his face changes, eyes going wide, mouth dropping open. "Rora. I forgot Wolfie!" "Who's Wolfie?" Liam blinks at me. "My gray wolf. I left it on my bed. I can't go out without Wolfie." "You've been fine for…" He crosses his arms over his chest, and his chin drops. "I CAN'T GO OUT WITHOUT WOLFIE." His bottom lip comes out, wobbling. "Please? We'll go back super quick." Part of me knows I'm being played. He will be just fine without Wolfie. But he's squeezing my fingers with both hands now, and my shoulders drop. "Fine. Quick in, quick out. We grab Wolfie and we leave." He's already pulling me back down the path. Alpha Jared said his guests aren't due for another hour. We'll be in and out. Two minutes. He won't even know. The front door swings open. I walk Liam inside, close the door behind me, and look up. FUCK. Noah is standing in the foyer. Edward is beside him, hands behind his back. Both wear suits. Both are staring at me. Why are they here? Did Alpha Jared call them? What are they gonna do to me? My hand finds the doorframe because my legs have quit. "So that's where you vanished to." Noah recovers first. His hair is slicked back. He looks very… formal. Are THEY Alpha Jared's guests? No. No, no, no…. He wouldn't invite them here. He knows Noah wants his title, right? "What are you doing here?" It comes out thin. My eyes sweep the hallway behind them. Alpha Jared is nowhere to be seen. Will he hear me if I scream? "Rora, who are they?" Liam's hand tightens around mine. He's looking up at Noah with genuine worry in his eyes. "Go upstairs, buddy." I squeeze his hand and let go. "Go find Wolfie." He runs up the stairs. His footsteps disappear down the hallway and I'm alone with my family. "A little whore sneaking her way into the Alpha's bed…" Edward steps forward. His hand catches my chin. "I underestimated you." His cologne fills my nose — sharp, expensive, layered over the scotch he drinks every morning. "Don't you dare touch me." It comes out as a whisper when I need it to be a scream. I try to jerk my chin free but his grip tightens. His eyes drop to Alpha Jared's t-shirt, neckline slipping off one shoulder. He leans down and inhales along the side of my neck. "You smell like him." His thumb presses into my jaw. "Did you enjoy it? Did you spread your legs and cry for daddy?" My teeth clench so hard my molars ache. I grab his wrist with both hands and dig my nails into the skin on the inside of his forearm. His eyes widen. "Take your hand off her!" #Email Behind Edward, at the top of the stairs, Alpha Jared is coming down. Liam is on his hip, arms wrapped around Wolfie. He must have run straight to Alpha Jared the second I told him to go upstairs. Edward's hand drops from my jaw. He steps back but his eyes hold mine for one more second. 'This isn't over, bitch.' Then his face rearranges into the diplomatic mask just as Alpha Jared reaches the bottom of the stairs. He sets Liam into my arms and steps forward. He's between me and Edward now. His shoulders are wider than both of theirs. He stands a full head above Noah, who hasn't moved once but has stopped smiling. "You arrived early," Alpha Jared says. Shit, they are his guests indeed. Read The Lycan's Hidden Mate now 🔥
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