It was an accident.

Serena’s POV

Before I could respond, Dominic turned away, his back to me, but I could feel his gaze lingering, heavy like a touch. It burned across my skin even after he moved through the crowd again, greeting a few elders with curt nods while every woman in his path tried—and failed—to catch his eye. Rose paced restlessly inside me.

*He saw us. He really saw us.*

“Shut up,” I whispered under my breath, cheeks still flaming.

Amelia tugged me toward the center of the grand hall where the staff had wheeled out an enormous three-tiered cake. It was covered in dark chocolate ganache, edged with edible gold leaf that caught the chandelier light like tiny flames, and topped with a delicate wolf silhouette made of white chocolate. Twenty-two sparkling candles flickered on top, casting warm shadows across Amelia’s smiling face. Pack members gathered in a loose circle, clapping and calling her name. The air smelled of melted chocolate, champagne, and the lingering heat of too many bodies pressed together.

“Speech! Speech!” someone shouted from the back.

Amelia laughed, cheeks pink with happiness and a little champagne, and grabbed my hand so I couldn’t escape to the edges of the crowd. “Come on, you’re my best friend. You’re standing right next to me for this. No hiding.”

“I’m not hiding,” I muttered, but my eyes kept drifting toward the tall figure who had just appeared at the head of the circle.

Dominic stood there as if summoned by the noise itself. He didn’t need to raise his voice; the entire room quieted the moment he stepped forward. The black suit still fit him like a second skin, the jacket now open, revealing the crisp white shirt stretched across his broad chest. “Happy birthday, Amelia.” His tone was warmer than anything he’d given the rest of the pack all night—low, rough, carrying that quiet authority that made people lean in. “You’ve grown into a woman any Alpha would be proud to call his daughter. May your year be strong, your path clear, and your enemies few. And if any of those enemies forget who your father is… they’ll remember quickly.”

A low chorus of “Hear, hear” and soft laughter rolled through the room. Amelia’s eyes shone.

She blew out the candles in one determined breath. Cheers erupted. The first slice was cut with a silver knife and plated carefully. Amelia took a small piece on a fork and held it up to her father with a playful grin. “Open up, old man.”

Dominic’s mouth quirked—almost a smile, the rarest thing in the territory—and he accepted the bite. The women nearby nearly swooned at the rare softness. One whispered loudly enough for half the circle to hear, “I’d feed him anything he wanted.”

I was still holding my breath, plate forgotten in my hand, when someone jostled the crowd from behind. A tipsy beta—tall, clumsy, already half-shifted with glowing eyes—stumbled hard into my back. My heel caught on the hem of the burgundy dress. The world tilted sideways. I pitched forward with a small cry—

Straight into solid muscle and heat.

Dominic’s arm shot out and caught me around the waist before I could hit the floor or the cake table. My palms slapped against his chest. The expensive fabric of his shirt did nothing to hide the hard planes of muscle beneath. His scent—cedar, woodsmoke, pure Alpha power—flooded my lungs in a dizzying rush. My soft curves pressed fully against him: full breasts crushed to his torso, soft stomach flush against the hard ridges of his abdomen, wide hips and thighs brushing his. For one endless, heart-stopping second I felt every inch of the difference between us—my plus-size softness molding against his unyielding strength like I was made to fit there.

My heart raced so loud I was sure the entire room could hear the frantic thudding. I looked up. His dark gray eyes were inches from mine, storm-dark and intense, pupils slightly blown. One large hand spanned nearly the entire small of my back, fingers splayed possessively; the other had settled instinctively at my hip, digging lightly into the give of my flesh as if testing how soft I really was.

“I’ve got you,” he said, voice low enough that only I could hear over the singing. Rough. Controlled. But something darker, hungrier, threaded underneath like a promise.

“I—I’m so sorry,” I stammered, trying to push back even as my body refused to move. My legs felt like water. Heat bloomed low in my belly. “Someone pushed me. The dress— I should have worn something else—”

“I know.” He didn’t let go immediately. His thumb stroked once—just once—across the curve of my waist, slow and deliberate, hidden by the press of celebrating bodies. The touch sent a jolt of pure fire straight between my legs. Rose nearly howled with triumph and need.

*Yes. More. Feel how he holds us.*

Then, reluctantly, he set me carefully on my feet. His hands lingered a second longer than necessary, thumbs brushing the soft undersides of my breasts through the fabric before dropping away. The crowd had barely noticed the near-disaster; they were too busy singing off-key and grabbing slices of cake. Amelia, however, noticed everything. Her eyes danced with wicked delight as she handed me a plate with an extra-large piece.

“Smooth, Serena,” she whispered against my ear, grinning. “Really smooth. You almost face-planted into the cake and ended up in my dad’s arms instead. Ten out of ten. No notes.”

I wanted to sink into the floor and never come out. “It was an accident.”

“Sure it was.” She popped a bite of cake into her mouth. “Your face is the same color as your dress. And Dad looks like he wants to carry you out of here over his shoulder.”

I risked a glance. Dominic had stepped back, arms now crossed over his chest, expression once again unreadable—but his gaze never left me for long. When a young warrior with an easy smile offered to walk me over to the buffet table for more champagne, a low, warning growl rumbled from Dominic’s direction. It carried just far enough. The warrior’s smile vanished; he suddenly remembered an urgent conversation on the other side of the room.

The rest of the cake-cutting and party blurred into laughter, more champagne, stolen glances, and the constant thrum of awareness under my skin. Every time I looked up, Dominic was watching from across the room—leaning against a pillar, speaking quietly with his beta, or simply standing like a dark statue while women fluttered around him like moths. None of them got more than a cold “No” or a dismissive glance. But me? His eyes found me again and again, lingering on the way the burgundy dress hugged my curves, on the flush still high on my cheeks.

By the time the party wound down past midnight, most guests had filtered out into the cool night, some already shifting and racing through the woods in celebration. Music faded to soft background strings. Amelia looped her arm tightly through mine as we stood near the grand staircase, both of us a little flushed from dancing and cake.

“You’re staying tonight,” she declared firmly, no room for argument in her voice. “No debates, no ‘I’ll just drive home.’ Guest room is already made up with fresh sheets and everything, and I’m not letting you leave after all that champagne and… whatever that was with my dad downstairs. You nearly melted into him.”

“Amelia, I can just call a car or—”

“Nope. My birthday, my rules.” She squeezed my arm and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Besides, Dad already told the house staff to prepare the east guest suite for you specifically. He wants you close. Or at least that’s the story I’m telling myself because it’s hilarious watching you both pretend nothing is happening.”

My heart kicked hard against my ribs again. “You’re impossible. And nothing is happening.”

“And you’re glowing like a full moon and lying through your teeth. Come on.” She tugged me upstairs before I could protest further.

She led me to the familiar guest suite overlooking the eastern training grounds—the same one I’d stayed in a dozen times over the years. Soft cream walls, a massive four-poster bed dressed in dark charcoal linens that smelled faintly of lavender and clean cotton, a bathroom with a deep freestanding soaking tub and rain shower. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the moonlit fields beyond. Amelia hugged me tightly at the door.

“Get some actual sleep, okay? We’ll debrief over breakfast—every single detail of that catch downstairs. And don’t even think about sneaking out in the middle of the night. Dad’s patrol wolves are extra alert after parties. They’ll drag you right back.”

After she left with a final wink, I changed into the spare sleep clothes I kept here for exactly these nights: an old oversized soft gray T-shirt that clung to my full breasts and soft stomach more than I liked, and thin black sleep shorts that rode up my thick thighs. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and tried—failed—to ignore the residual heat still thrumming under my skin from that accidental collision. The phantom press of his body. The way his hand had spanned my waist like it belonged there.

Sleep refused to come. I tossed and turned for what felt like hours. Every time I closed my eyes I felt his arm banded around me, the hard planes of his chest against my softness, the low rumble of his voice saying “I’ve got you.” Around two in the morning I gave up entirely. Thirsty, restless, and aching with a need I didn’t want to name, I padded barefoot down the quiet hallway toward the kitchen for a glass of water.

The massive house was dark and silent except for the soft glow of low night lights along the baseboards. Distant howls from the patrol wolves floated in through open windows. I turned the corner near the study wing—

And froze mid-step.

The heavy oak door to Dominic’s private study stood slightly ajar. Soft golden light spilled out into the hallway in a thin rectangle. And from inside came low, intimate sounds that stopped my heart cold and then set it racing for an entirely different reason.

A woman’s soft, breathy moan. The wet sound of kissing. A deep, guttural male growl of pure male satisfaction.

I should have turned around immediately. I should have gone straight back to bed, pulled the covers over my head, and pretended I heard nothing.

Instead, curiosity and something darker—jealousy already coiling hot and ugly in my stomach—pulled me forward like a magnet. I stepped closer on silent bare feet, heart hammering so hard it hurt, and carefully peered through the narrow gap in the door.

The sight punched the air from my lungs.