Chapter 2

Clara’s POV

‘MATE!’

Marigold’s howl vibrates through my bones, sparking a heat that pools in every inch of my body. I feel liquid beneath Alpha Damien’s touch. 

The fear is still there, but it’s warring with an undeniable pull.

Suddenly, Damien leans forward. I gasp as his nose brushes the wet skin of my neck.

"Your scent," he murmurs against my pulse point, his voice a low, rough rumble that vibrates through my chest. "Jasmine. I can’t get enough of it."

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his gaze locking onto mine. A flicker of shock crosses his face.

My heart hammers a frantic rhythm. My eyes. My heterochromia. I instinctively flinch, waiting for the disgust. I’ve been called a freak, a bastard, an anomaly my entire life. Surely an Alpha like him won’t want a mate who looks like me.

"And your eyes," he whispers, tracing the line of my cheekbone with a thumb. His tone isn't disgusted. It’s reverent. "I’ve never seen anything like them. They are… magnificent."

My face burns crimson. No one has ever praised me like that.

"Who are you?" he asks, his intensity pinning me in place.

I hesitate. I can’t tell him the truth–Layla was supposed to clean today, not me. If I tell him what happened, we’ll both be punished.

He studies my silence, a flicker of curiosity crossing his handsome features.

“Ah,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping to my trembling lips. “It seems my mate has no voice.”

He leans back just an inch, his eyes sweeping over my sodden, shapeless dress. “I’m Alpha Damien of the Moonstone pack. And this dress marks you as an Omega maid.”

He knows. The rejection is coming. I brace for the pain of it—

But it never comes.

“You seem scared,” Alpha Damien says quietly. “And drenched,” he adds, his voice lowering.

He grabs a large, plush towel from the rack and wraps it around me, pulling it tight like a cocoon. But he doesn't step away. Instead, he begins to dry me with agonizing gentleness. His hands move over my arms and shoulders through the terrycloth, rubbing firm circles that generate friction and heat. He lifts a corner of the towel to dab the water from my neck, his knuckles grazing my skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

“Come. Let me get you something to change into,” he says, gentle but unquestionable, guiding me out of the bathroom.

‘What a gentleman our mate is!’ Marigold hums, thrilled.

I can feel her excitement pulsing through me as I reach for the clothes he offers. My fingers brush his.

A spark shoots through me.

“Alpha Damien, Th-thank you…” I manage.

His brows lift, pleased. “Ah, so you’re not mute.” A real smile breaks across his face, bright and disarming. “What’s your name, love?”

“C-Clara,” I whisper, feeling shy under the weight of his attention.

“Clara,” he repeats, like it’s something precious. “How did you end up hiding in my tub?”

“I’m… an Omega maid, like you guessed,” I begin nervously, clutching his dry shirt to my chest. The fabric is infused with his scent and it makes my head swim. “I was cleaning your room, and I wasn’t expecting you to be back so soon. I was afraid I was going to be punished for not finishing my work, so…”

I trail off, swallowing hard.

“Afraid,” Damien echoes. The playfulness vanishes, replaced by a dark intensity. “You thought I would punish you?”

He steps closer, and my back meets the wall. My breathing becomes shallow and rapid. He reaches out, tucking a strand of damp hair behind my ear, his touch lingering on the sensitive skin of my neck.

“Tell me, Clara,” he murmurs, his voice a low, vibrating hum against my skin. “Are you still afraid of me?”

I look into his attractive eyes and see nothing but a hunger that matches my own. I shake my head, my breath hitching.

“Then prove it to me,” he coaxes.

His intoxicating scent that mix of rain and cedar washes over me, hooking into my soul. Before I can overthink, I lean in and press my lips to his. His eyes widen in brief surprise before a triumphant smile curves his mouth.

Shame suddenly flickers through me. What am I doing? I’m an Omega; I’ve stepped way out of line. “I’m sorry... I-I didn’t mean to,” I stammer, turning to pull away, but he doesn't let me.

His hand catches my arm, firm but not hurting me, and he spins me back until I’m pinned against the wall. He leans to me, his heat radiating through my damp clothes.

“Is there something you want, mate? Just tell me,” he growls softly.

“No... I swear I don’t,” I lie, my voice trembling. The bedroom air is thick with steam, and my wet dress clings to me like a second skin, leaving nothing to his imagination.

“Liar,” he says with a slow grin, his gaze darkening. “I saw it in your eyes. You’re mine, Clara. Just tell me what you want.”

My knees turn to pudding. He knows exactly what his words are doing to me. I feel the power of his command and the tenderness of his touch warring inside me.

“Alpha Damien, I… I want you... to mark me. Tonight.”

He doesn't need to be told twice. He carries me to the bed and strips off his clothes. I swallow hard at the sight of him. He’s magnificent—all sculpted muscle and raw power. My gaze drops between his legs, and my heart seems to stutter. He’s so much larger than me that I can’t fathom how we’ll fit, but the ache between my thighs demands him anyway.

He leans down, pressing a lingering kiss on my lips.

“Are you ready?” he asks, his voice thick with restraint.

I can't find my voice, so I simply nod, my fingers digging into his shoulders.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispers, his gaze possessive. “You’re mine. Only mine.”

He thrusts into me, and everything in the world is exactly as it was always meant to be. He feels exquisite inside of me, stretching me out perfectly. Every thrust sends fireworks of pleasure arcing through my entire body. Marigold is howling in the back of my mind, her joy echoing mine as she begs for the claim. 

Just as the world starts to blur, his teeth sink deep into the curve of my neck. The initial sting is sharp, a jagged flash of pain that melts instantly into a wave of intoxicating heat. It is a spiritual fusion, a physical lock turning into place. We crash over the edge together, our breaths tangling as our souls finally fuse into one.

I curl into his chest, listening to his heart. It feels like a dream come true, but as I look at the shadows on the ceiling, a cold sliver of doubt pricks at me. 

I’m nothing but a lowly Omega maid. 

And he’s an Alpha.

Is this too perfect? Is it too good to be true? 

Has the Moon Goddess somehow made a mistake?