A human mate ?

She was sculpted temptation wrapped in cri silk. The dress hugged every dangerous curve, leaving very little to imagination and everything to hunger. A black mask covered the upper half of her face, revealing only the lush curve of her mouth and eyes that burned like dark embers. Her presence alone thickened the air, pulling every hungry gaze in the room toward her like gravity.

“Moon Goddess,” Liam breathed inside him, reverent and raw, as she glided toward the cluster of dancers. Her walk was liquid rhythm, hips swaying in perfect time with the pulsing beat. Luther felt heat coil low in his gut, sharp and unwelcome. Arousal hit him hard, sudden, shocking. No woman had ever done this to him. Not one had ever held his attention longer than a passing glance. Yet here he was, unable to look away, pulse hammering.

His fingers curled into a tight fist when she climbed the small stage and wrapped long legs around the pole. The crowd erupted, men shouting crude promises, hands reaching uselessly toward her. She ignored them all. Her body moved with the music, slow rolls and sinuous arches, lost in her own private world. Then her gaze lifted and found his.

Time stuttered.

She froze mid-spin, eyes locked on his across the smoky haze. Neither blinked. Neither breathed.

Liam surged forward in his mind, wild and certain. “Mate.”

The word slammed into Luther like a physical blow. His world tilted, cracked open. He dipped his head, let out a low, bitter chuckle that tasted like ash, then straightened. When he looked up again his face was blank marble, cold and unreadable. Her eyes stayed on him, giving nothing away.

“Our mate,” Liam repeated, voice trembling with joy, already straining to close the distance.

“Shut up,” Luther snarled under his breath. “If you don’t want me to rip her apart.”

She descended the platform with feline grace and started straight toward him, stare unwavering.

Luther’s lip curled. “My mate is some club girl? A weak little human?” he muttered. “What kind of cruel joke is this, Moon Goddess?”

“You’d hurt her?” Liam sounded wounded.

“Maybe I’ll play with her first.” A dark, crooked smile tugged at his mouth. “Let me taste her before I decide she’s not worth keeping.” His blood sang at the thought pinning her down, feeling that soft, generous body yield beneath him, marking every inch until she forgot every other man who’d ever looked at her.

The smile died the instant she walked right past him.

He spun. She hadn’t even slowed. She stopped at the table behind him and leaned close to the man seated there. Adre. Japhet Adre. The traitor he’d come here to gut.

Adre’s eyes raked over her like she was already his, greedy and shameless. He tossed back a shot, throat working, then set the glass down hard.

Luther’s hand tightened until the tumbler in his palm cracked, whiskey seeping between his fingers.

She circled Adre slowly, hips rolling in deliberate invitation. Luther’s vision tunneled red.

“You came here for her?” he growled at his wolf, fury boiling over. All he wanted was to haul her away, crush his mouth to hers, sink his teeth into her throat and claim her right there in front of the entire club.

She startled, as though she felt the weight of his stare. She turned. Their eyes met again, very long and electric. He allowed himself the smallest, most confident tilt of his lips, certain she would come to him now.

Then Adre’s arm snaked around her waist and yanked her flush against his side.

She glanced down at the possessive grip, expression unreadable. Slowly, deliberately, she peeled his hand away. Leaned in. Whispered something against his ear.

“I’ll meet you in the room. Give me a few minutes.” Her voice was smooth..She winked, nodded toward the hallway where VIPs disappeared with their chosen girls for the night.

“She picked that piece of filth over us,” Luther bit out, voice dangerously soft.

Micha turned, eyes wide. He had never seen his Alpha like this, possessive to the point of violence over a stranger. Not even when his own fiancée had been caught with another man had Luther reacted with more than cool indifference. Now he looked ready to shred flesh.

“Who is she?” Micha asked quietly.

“My mate.” Luther’s tone was flat, lethal, gaze never leaving Adre as the man smirked and sauntered toward the private rooms.

Luther moved before he could think, trailing her through the crowd, the original mission forgotten. He searched every corner, every shadowed alcove. She had vanished like smoke.

“She was your mate?” Micha caught up, disbelief thick in his voice.

“She is.” Luther dragged a hand over his face. “Can you believe the Moon Goddess would do this to me? Pair me with a human who sells herself in a place like this?” He laughed, short and ugly. “I don’t even want to count how many men she’s already spread for.”

“Alpha...”

“Don’t,” Luther snapped. “She flirted with Adre, practically begged him to take her to a room. Mate or not, she’ll never be anything to me. She’s a disgrace to everything sacred. Having her tied to my name would ruin me. I won’t let some club whore anywhere near my heart or my pack.”

“She’s right behind you,” Micha said.

Luther froze. Turned.

There she stood, close enough to touch, mask still in place, eyes steady on his.

He swore under his breath.

He waited for the explosion, the tears, the slap. Instead she stepped forward, brushed past him without a word, without a glance, as though every vicious syllable he’d just spat had been wind against glass.

She walked away, leaving only the faint scent of jasmine and the burning realization that she had heard every word but hadn’t cared enough to react.