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2025-07-18 08:10:00Irene’s pov
If they wouldn’t give me power, I would take control in the only way I’d ever been taught—through appearance, grace, and calculated presence.The moment I left Father’s lounge, I summoned my assistant. She arrived breathless, as always, scribbling something in that horrid little notepad of hers. I didn’t care what she had planned for me today—it was all irrelevant now. There was only one item on my schedule that mattered.“I need a dress,” I said without breaking stride as I walked past her.She blinked, almost tripping as she struggled to keep up. “Of course. For the dinner?”I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, mildly impressed. She was sharper than she looked. “Obviously. Something striking. Elegant. Enough to silence a room.”She nodded frantically, already dialing our stylist’s number. I paused in the hall, turning to face her. “And cancel all meetings I don’t personally approve of. I don’t want to hear another whining request from t
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Bitten, Branded And Bare 27
Lisa's povIf anyone had told me that I’d be laughing like a drunk squirrel in a different pack—of all places—I would’ve asked what brand of madness they were sipping.But here I was, lips stretched in a stupid grin, flour in my hair, an apron that barely reached past my hips, and Calla giggling so hard her knees were nearly giving out. The kitchen smelled like chaos. And burnt sugar. Mostly burnt sugar.“I told you not to leave the oven on broil!” Calla squealed, fanning the smoke with a wooden spatula that had definitely seen better days.I covered my face with my hands, trying to hide the evidence of my war crime against what should’ve been perfectly innocent cookies. “You told me after I’d already turned the knob!”“You didn’t read the label?!”“There were four knobs, Calla! FOUR!”We both burst into another round of laughter, the kind that made your stomach cramp and your face ache. I leaned against the counter, catching my breath, brushing off
Bitten, Branded And Bare 26
Irene’s povIf they wouldn’t give me power, I would take control in the only way I’d ever been taught—through appearance, grace, and calculated presence.The moment I left Father’s lounge, I summoned my assistant. She arrived breathless, as always, scribbling something in that horrid little notepad of hers. I didn’t care what she had planned for me today—it was all irrelevant now. There was only one item on my schedule that mattered.“I need a dress,” I said without breaking stride as I walked past her.She blinked, almost tripping as she struggled to keep up. “Of course. For the dinner?”I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, mildly impressed. She was sharper than she looked. “Obviously. Something striking. Elegant. Enough to silence a room.”She nodded frantically, already dialing our stylist’s number. I paused in the hall, turning to face her. “And cancel all meetings I don’t personally approve of. I don’t want to hear another whining request from t
Bitten, Branded And Bare 25
Irene’s povI stormed out of the packhouse, heels stabbing into the gravel with every furious step I took. My face burned—not from embarrassment, but from rage. How dare he speak to me like that? In front of her. That filthy, low-ranked, dirt-smelling omega who could barely put a sentence together without trembling like a leaf.Enzo had humiliated me.And for what? Because she bumped into him and mumbled an apology?I reached my car and slammed the door so hard the window rattled. My driver, that half-asleep oaf, flinched and dared to ask, “Ma’am, is everything alright?”“No, everything is not alright!” I snapped, glaring at him through the rearview mirror. “Why are you still sitting there? Drive!”He fumbled for the ignition like he suddenly forgot how the car worked, stuttering apologies as we pulled away from the packhouse. I crossed my arms, inhaling and exhaling slowly, trying not to lash out at every living thing I saw. But the image of Enzo defending h
Bitten, Branded And Bare 24
Enzo's povI had been in my office all morning, swimming in a sea of files that never seemed to shrink no matter how fast I worked through them. The scent of ink and parchment was strong, mingling with the faint traces of cedarwood from the oil I burned to keep myself focused. Numbers, reports, border alerts, training rosters—it was a never-ending cycle.But I preferred this. The quiet. The order. The certainty of ink on paper. Far better than the chaos that brewed when people were involved.A knock sounded on my door.I didn’t bother looking up. “Come in.”Ash walked in with his usual calm expression, but someone trailed behind him. A woman, dressed sharply, her eyes too calculating for a guest.I leaned back in my chair, finally giving them both my attention.“Irene,” I said flatly.She gave a small bow, her smile a touch too rehearsed. “Alpha Enzo. I hope we’re not intruding.”I looked to Ash.He tilted his head slightly. “She said it was u
Bitten, Branded And Bare 23
Kael’s pov“Stop trying to take away my dignity, Mira. That’s all I have left. That and my ability to whine. And maybe a very questionable sense of humor.”She cleaned the wound, and yes, I screamed. Loudly. The walls definitely shook. One of the nurses dropped her clipboard.“You’re such a baby,” Mira muttered.“I’m sensitive!” I gasped. “I was raised in a pack with manners! We don’t tolerate pain unless it’s stylish!”“You once ate a whole bag of chili jerky and nearly passed out.”“That’s different. That was pride. This is a medical emergency.”“You’re literally just scratched!”“And emotionally wounded!”She pressed the gauze down firmly, and I let out a noise that could only be described as a sob-meets-pterodactyl.“Done,” she said, finally taping it down. “You’ll live.”I blinked up at her. “Are you sure? Because I see a light.”“That’s the ceiling lamp.”“Oh.”I lay there dramatically for another five seconds. Mira rolle
Bitten, Branded And Bare 22
Kael’s povI woke up with a dull ache in my shoulder and a sharp sting where the scrape had crusted overnight. It didn’t bother me too much—nothing I hadn’t felt before. Compared to what I’ve been through in the border fights, a scratch was just a handshake from nature.Still, I had a few things to get done today. I pulled on a clean shirt, tucked the edge into my belt, and headed down the corridor toward Enzo’s study. The early morning air inside the packhouse still carried the sharpness of night chill. I liked it better when everything was quiet like this.I knocked once.“Come in,” came his voice.Enzo sat at his desk, sleeves rolled, skimming through a pile of documents like he was ready to end someone's career over one misplaced comma. He barely looked up as I entered.“I need your approval signature on the supply order for the western perimeter,” I said, setting the file in front of him.He glanced at it, signed with a stroke, and handed it back. “Y
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