Chapter 2

"Too many people," he growled, burying his face in the crook of my neck. He inhaled deeply, his nose brushing my skin. "Goddess, Raya. You’re the only thing that smells real."

My hands instinctively went to his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart through the expensive fabric. "You’re doing great, Brock. Everyone is impressed."

"I don't care about them," he muttered against my skin, sending shivers down my spine. He pulled back, his eyes dark and dilated. The wolf was close to the surface. "I only looked for you. The whole night. I was scanning the room, waiting for you."

"I'm here," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I'm always here."

He looked at me, really looked at me, and the intensity in his gaze shifted. It wasn't just friendship anymore. It was hunger. The line we had walked for years—the line I had been terrified to cross—was blurring.

"Eloise was there," he said, his voice dropping to a rasp. "She kept trying to touch me. Talking about bloodlines. About the future." He let out a harsh laugh. "I wanted to rip her head off."

"She’s just trying to be a good pack member," I said weakly.

"She’s not you," Brock said.

The world stopped.

He leaned in, his forehead resting against mine. "Why can't it just be you, Raya? Why do I have to wait for some fated stranger the Moon Goddess picks out? I don't want a stranger. I want my best friend."

My heart soared, a dangerous, foolish hope blooming in my chest. "Brock..."

"Tell me to stop," he breathed, his hand moving up to cup my jaw. His thumb traced my lower lip, rough and calloused. "Tell me to go back inside and be the good Alpha. Tell me to stop looking at you like I want to devour you."

I should have. I should have listened to Eric. I should have remembered that tomorrow, he could find his mate and I would be nothing.

But I was twenty-two, and I had loved him since I was seven.

"Don't stop," I whispered.

Brock didn't hesitate. He crashed his lips onto mine.

It wasn't a sweet, tentative first kiss. It was an explosion. It was desperate, messy, and consuming. He kissed me like he was drowning and I was air. His hands tangled in my hair, messing up the style I’d spent an hour on, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

I melted into him, my arms wrapping around his neck. My wolf purred in satisfaction. Yes. This. Him.

He broke the kiss, gasping for air, his eyes wild. "Not here," he growled. "My room."

He didn't wait for an answer. He grabbed my hand, interlacing our fingers, and dragged me toward the private entrance of the Alpha wing. We ran like teenagers, sneaking past the guards, laughing breathlessly as we stumbled up the stairs.

But once we were inside his bedroom—the room that smelled entirely of him—the laughter died.

He kicked the door shut and locked it. The click of the lock echoed in the silence.

He turned to me, and the playfulness was gone. He looked at me with a terrifying intensity. He walked over, backing me toward the massive bed.

"Are you sure, Raya?" he asked, his voice rough. "Because once I claim you tonight... I’m not letting you go. I don't care what the elders say. I don't care about the mate bond. I’m choosing you."

"I'm sure," I said, my voice barely audible.

He didn't say another word. He kissed me again, lifting me off my feet, carrying me to the bed.

The morning sun was cruel.

It sliced through the curtains, burning my eyes. I woke up with a smile, stretching my limbs. My body ached in the best way possible. I reached out across the sheets, expecting to find warm skin, strong arms, the man who had whispered promises to me all night.

The bed was empty.

I sat up, clutching the sheet to my chest. "Brock?"

The bathroom door was open. Silence. The room felt cold. Sterile.

My clothes were folded neatly on the chair. My green dress. My heels.

A knot of dread formed in my stomach. I got up, wrapping the sheet around me, and walked into the hallway. The packhouse was eerily quiet. It was late morning. Everyone should be up.

I walked down the stairs, the silence pressing against my ears.

When I reached the landing that overlooked the main foyer, I froze.

The entire pack was gathered there. The Elders. The high-ranking wolves. And in the center, standing on the pack symbol inlaid in the floor, was Brock.

He looked impeccable. Freshly showered, dressed in black, his face a mask of stone. The ruthlessness I had seen last night was back, but ten times harder.

And he wasn't alone.

Standing next to him, looking radiant and smug, was a girl I didn't recognize. She had platinum blonde hair and held herself with the arrogance of royalty.

Brock was holding her hand.

"Pack," Brock’s voice boomed, echoing off the walls. It was the Alpha Voice. Commanding. Absolute. "I present to you my Fated Mate."

The world tilted on its axis. My ears rang.

No. No, he said he chose me. He said...

Brock turned to the girl. He leaned down and kissed her hand, a look of awe on his face that he had never, ever given me. "Claire," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "My Luna."

I let out a choked gasp. The sound was small, but in the silence of the room, it was like a gunshot.

Brock’s head snapped up.

He looked at the landing. He saw me. Standing there, shivering, clutching a bedsheet, my hair a mess from his hands, the scent of his sex still clinging to my skin.

For a second, our eyes locked. I waited for the regret. I waited for him to mouth 'I'm sorry.' I waited for him to acknowledge what we did.

But his eyes were dead.

He looked at me like I was a stranger. Like I was a stain on his perfect morning.

His lip curled in a sneer. He turned back to Claire, pulled her close, and spoke the words that shattered my soul into a million jagged pieces.

"Guards," he said coldly, not even looking at me anymore. "Remove the Omega from the premises. She’s polluting the air my Mate breathes."