Chapter 6

The sick bay was organized chaos.

Wounded fighters filled every bed, with more sitting on the floor or leaning against walls while pack healers moved between them. The air smelled of blood, antiseptic, and the sharp tang of pain. Low groans mixed with murmured conversations and the occasional bark of orders from the head healer.

I stood in the doorway, scanning the room for Lucian.

A young healer approached me, her scrubs already stained with blood. “Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for the Alpha Heir.”

“Private room. End of the hall.” She gestured with her chin. “But he’s being treated. You might need to wait.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

I made my way past the occupied beds, noting the injuries. Most were superficial. Claw marks. Bite wounds. The kind of damage wolves healed from quickly. A few were more serious, fighters with deep gashes or broken bones being tended with careful attention.

We had been lucky. This could have been much worse.

The private room at the end of the hall had its door partially open. I knocked twice.

“Come in,” Lucian’s voice called out.

I pushed the door open.

He sat shirtless on the examination table while an older female healer stitched a gash across his shoulder. His chest was a canvas of scratches and bruising, already beginning to fade as his Alpha healing kicked in. His hair was still damp, probably from a quick rinse to wash off the blood.

He looked up when I entered, and his mouth curved into the cocky grin I had come to expect.

“Aurelia. Come to check on my well-being? I’m touched.”

“I came to debrief. Make sure you have all the intelligence on Shadowmere’s tactics.”

“Sure you did.” He winced as the healer pulled another stitch tight. “And here I thought you were worried about me.”

“You’re the Alpha Heir. Your survival affects pack security.”

“Keep telling yourself this is purely professional.” His amber eyes gleamed with amusement. “I saw the way you watched me in the courtyard.”

Heat crept up my neck. “I was observing the pack’s response to your leadership.”

“You were staring at me covered in blood and looking like you wanted to drag me somewhere private.”

“You’re delusional.”

“I’m observant.” He turned his attention back to the healer. “How much longer, Agnes?”

“Two more stitches if you hold still,” the older woman said tartly. “And you need rest. Real rest. Not whatever you call the activities you engage in.”

“My activities are how I rest.”

Agnes made a disapproving sound but said nothing more.

I moved closer, keeping my eyes on his face and not the expanse of muscle on display. “The attack was coordinated. Professional. Lupin invested serious resources into this.”

“And we drove them back.” Lucian’s voice held satisfaction. “Sent them running with their tails between their legs.”

“They’ll regroup. Try again.”

“Let them try. Next time we’ll be ready.” He flexed his injured shoulder, testing the stitches. “Your intelligence gave us advance warning. We will mobilize faster because of your work.”

“I should have found the connection sooner.”

“You worked two days straight and delivered actionable intelligence that saved lives.” His expression grew serious. “You did good, Aurelia. Accept the compliment.”

Agnes tied off the final stitch and stepped back. “Done. Keep this clean. No shifting for at least six hours. And no strenuous activity.”

Lucian’s grin returned. “Define strenuous.”

“You know exactly what I mean, young man.” Agnes gathered her supplies. “I’ve been patching up your escapades since you were sixteen. I know how you celebrate victories.”

She left, shaking her head.

Lucian slid off the table, moving with easy grace despite the fresh injuries. He grabbed a clean shirt from the chair and pulled it on, his movements careful around the stitches.

“Speaking of celebrations,” he said, buttoning the shirt. “I’m having a party tonight. Victory party. Rented out Eclipse, the event center downtown. Close friends, good alcohol, the usual debauchery. You should come.”

I stared at him. “You were in a battle. You have stitches. You need rest.”

“I need to remind everyone we’re alive and strong. What better way than to celebrate?” He tucked the shirt into his pants. “Besides, I always throw a party after combat. Tradition.”

“Tradition or excuse?”

“Both.” He stepped closer, and I caught the scent of antiseptic mixed with his natural cedar and smoke. “Come to the party, Aurelia.”

“I’m not interested in watching you entertain half the female pack.”

“I’m not inviting you to watch. I’m inviting you to participate.”

My pulse quickened. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m here to work. Not to attend your pleasure parties.”

“All work and no play makes Aurelia a tense wolf.” His voice dropped lower, more intimate. “You’ve been wound tight since you arrived. Two sleepless nights. Constant stress. You need to let loose. Have some fun.”

“Your idea of fun and mine are different.”

“Are they?” He tilted his head, studying me with those knowing eyes. “I think you’re afraid to let yourself enjoy anything. Afraid of what might happen if you stop controlling every aspect of your life.”

“I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Liar.” He was close enough now for me to feel the heat radiating from his skin. “You’re terrified. Of me. Of yourself. Of what you felt watching me fight today.”

“I felt nothing.”

“Your heartbeat says otherwise. Your scent says otherwise.” His hand came up, fingers brushing my cheek with surprising gentleness. “Your eyes definitely say otherwise.”

I should step back. Should slap his hand away. Should remind him of professional boundaries.

I did none of those things.

“One party,” he murmured. “A few drinks. Some conversation. See what happens when you stop thinking so much and just feel.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then you refuse. I’m not going to force you.” His thumb traced my jawline. “But I think you’re curious. I think you want to see what it’s like to let go. Just once.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“I’m honest.” He dropped his hand, stepping back to give me space. “Party starts at nine. Eclipse Event Center, main floor. VIP list. Just give them your name at the door.”

“I’m not coming.”

“We’ll see.” That cocky grin spread across his face. “Wear something comfortable. Or don’t wear much at all. Either works for me.”

“You’re impossible.”

“So you keep saying.” He moved toward the door, then paused and looked back. “By the way, thank you. For the intelligence work. For staying calm during the attack. For being exactly what this pack needed.”

The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard.

Before I could respond, he was gone, leaving me alone in the examination room with my thoughts spinning.

A party. At some event center. With his friends and whatever debauchery he considered appropriate celebration.

I should refuse. Should spend the evening reviewing security footage and planning defensive improvements.

Should absolutely not go anywhere near Lucian when he was in celebratory mode.

My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: Eclipse. Nine PM. VIP list. I’ll be disappointed if you don’t show. - L

I stared at the message.

Deleted it.

Then spent the next three hours trying to convince myself I would not be attending.

At eight forty-five, I stood in front of my closet in the temporary housing Nightfall had provided, wearing nothing but a towel and staring at my limited wardrobe.

This was ridiculous. I was not going.

I pulled out a simple black dress. Nothing fancy. Nothing screaming effort.

Just in case.

At eight fifty-seven, I stood outside Eclipse Event Center, the bass from inside vibrating through the sidewalk beneath my heels. The building was modern glass and steel, lit from within by purple and blue lights. A line of people waited at the main entrance, but the VIP door to the side had only a bouncer checking names.

I could still leave. Turn around. Go back to my apartment and pretend this never happened.

I walked to the VIP entrance.

The bouncer, a massive wolf with scarred knuckles, looked me up and down. “Name?”

“Aurelia Sinclair.”

He checked his tablet, then nodded. “You’re on the list. Second floor, private section.”

He opened the door.

Music poured out, louder and heavier than I expected. The beat pulsed through my body as I stepped inside.

The main floor was packed with bodies moving to the rhythm, lights strobing across sweaty skin and raised hands. The air was thick with pheromones, alcohol, and pure hedonistic energy.

I climbed the stairs to the second floor, where the VIP section opened up. This level was less crowded but no less intense. Plush seating areas. Private bars. Wolves in expensive clothes drinking, laughing, touching.

And there, in the center of the largest seating area, surrounded by people vying for his attention, was Lucian.

He had changed into black jeans and a dark grey shirt that hugged every line of his body. The stitches were hidden, but I knew they were there. He held a glass of whiskey, his other arm draped casually over the shoulders of a blonde woman who pressed herself against his side.

His cousin Benedict sat across from him, equally surrounded by admirers. The family resemblance was clear in the strong jawline and commanding presence, though Benedict lacked Lucian’s effortless charisma.

Cecilia, the other cousin, held court at the bar, her laughter ringing out as she entertained a group of wolves hanging on her every word.

Lucian’s eyes swept the room and found me standing at the top of the stairs.

His entire expression changed.

The lazy amusement sharpened into something focused. Predatory.

He said something to the blonde, who pouted but moved away. Then he stood and walked toward me, cutting through the crowd like they weren’t even there.

“You came,” he said when he reached me, his voice carrying over the music. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“I’m here for networking.”

“Of course you are.” His eyes traveled down my body, taking in the black dress with obvious appreciation. “You look incredible.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Tell the truth?” He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear. “You wore this for me. Admit it.”

“I wore this because I own exactly three dresses and this was the only one appropriate for whatever this is.”

“This,” he said, gesturing to the room, “is freedom. No rules. No judgment. Just pleasure and celebration.” His hand found the small of my back, guiding me toward his section. “Come. Meet my cousins. Have a drink. Stop looking like you’re about to bolt.”

“I am about to bolt.”

“No, you’re not.” His grip tightened slightly. “You’re curious. You want to see what happens when you stop being the perfect, controlled tracker and just let yourself feel.”

Before I could argue, we reached his seating area.

Benedict looked up, his eyes assessing me with cool calculation. “So this is the famous Aurelia Sinclair. The one who saved our asses with her intelligence work.”

“I did my job.”

“She’s modest too.” Cecilia appeared beside us, drink in hand, her smile sharp and knowing. “I like her already. Much better than the usual arm candy Lucian parades around.”

“I’m not arm candy,” I said flatly.

“No,” Lucian agreed, pulling me down onto the leather couch beside him. “She’s much more interesting than that.”

A server appeared with drinks. Lucian pressed a glass into my hand. “Relax, Aurelia. Just for tonight. See what happens.”

I took a sip. The alcohol burned going down, loosening something tight in my chest.

The music shifted, the beat becoming more primal. More seductive.

Lucian’s hand remained on my back, his touch burning through the thin fabric of my dress.

Around us, his friends danced and drank and touched each other with casual intimacy. This was his world. Pleasure without apology. Desire without shame.

And I was sitting in the middle of it, my heart racing, my body responding to his proximity in ways I refused to acknowledge.

“Dance with me,” Lucian murmured in my ear.

“No.”

“Scared?”

“Of you? Never.”

“Prove it.” He stood, offering his hand. “One dance. Then you can run back to your safe, controlled life if you want.”

I looked at his hand. At those amber eyes challenging me.

At the part of myself I had locked away for so long, screaming to be let out.

I took his hand.

He pulled me onto the dance floor, and the moment his body pressed against mine, I knew I had made a terrible mistake.

Because this was not just a dance.

This was the beginning of something I would not be able to stop.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​