Chapter 3

Camellia's POV

I turned to leave the bedroom.

Esmond grabbed my wrist. "You always wanted a kid," his voice rasped. "Let's make one right now. What do you say?"

"That was before." I yanked my arm free. "I'll have children someday—just not yours."

His amber eyes flashed.

Every Alpha-blooded werewolf had that possessive streak.

Before I could blink, he slammed me onto the mattress, his weight pinning me down.

"Say that again." His growl vibrated against my collarbone.

I bared my teeth. "I'd rather die than carry your spawn. You make me sick."

His mouth crashed into mine before I finished.

Pine needles and blood filled my senses—his scent. The temporary mark on my neck flared white-hot.

When his calloused hands gripped my shoulders, static sparks erupted where skin met skin. The remnants of our mate bond were putting up one hell of a fight.

"Get off!" I arched with a feral snarl, fangs splitting my lip.

Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

His thumb brushed my bare collarbone. Instead of the usual electric shiver down my spine, nausea churned through my gut.

Lyra roared in my skull. Her claws shredded the mental barriers I built.

Esmond's breath hitched against my ear.

The teasing scent that once made me weak now churned my stomach.

"Don't look at me like that," he murmured, lips grazing my earlobe. "You know how hungry my wolf gets after the full moon."

His palm slid down my hip—a move that used to melt me.

Now my entire body broke out in goosebumps.

When his fangs grazed the temporary mark, searing pain exploded across my neck.

Lyra's screech nearly split my skull. My right hand shifted involuntarily, claws ripping through his left shoulder.

"F*ck!" Esmond staggered back, smashing into the coffee table. The crystal ashtray shattered.

Blood dripped onto the beige rug as he clutched his shoulder.

His golden irises trembled violently. He stared at my still-shifted hand as if seeing a stranger.

"This...can't be..."

Sunlight streamed through the window, highlighting the veins bulging on his neck. His Alpha aura swelled with rage.

I understood his shock. Werewolves can't resist their mates.

Even during our worst fights, my traitorous body always responded to his touch.

But now? Lyra saw him as a threat.

Lyra no longer recognized him as our mate.

"You felt it," I spat, wiping blood from my mouth. "Our mate bond's hanging by a thread since you screwed that she-wolf."

The moment my nails shifted back, I yanked at my shirt, the cedar scent from last night with Lionel still clinging to the fabric.

"No way!" Esmond bellowed.

His healing skin glistened under sunlight—damn Alpha regeneration.

Suddenly he lunged, pinning me again. "Then we'll remake the bond. Right. Now."

My body froze, then bucked harder.

"Get your hands off me!"

He ignored me, his fingers teasing my sensitive spots.

"You want this too, don't you?"

"Don't make me hate you."

He froze, just as his gaze dropped to mine. His pupils constricted involuntarily.

I kneed him hard in the gut, scrambling to the corner.

Our distorted shadows clawed at the walls like battling beasts.

"Lyra doesn't recognize you anymore," I hissed. "You killed us the moment you cheated."

His eyes were wrestling with turmoil.

After what felt like an eternity, he stomped off the bed and stormed out.

The door slam rattled my bones.

Three days passed without a word.

I left dozens of voicemails about finalizing the rejection—radio silence.

By weekend, I was browsing job listings in the packhouse living room when the door creaked.

Esmond strode in, looking haggard.

He looked like he hadn't slept in weeks.

"Let's talk about the rejection," I said calmly, setting down my coffee.

His jaw twitched. "Rejection's off the table. We're attending the Pack gathering tonight. Be ready by seven."