Chapter 4-The Scent of Truth

Kaela’s POV

My lips parted, trembling. “What? No, I…really…”

Taren’s voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. His words came quiet and sharp, the way an alpha’s command cuts through the noise of a pack. “When you woke in the healer’s den, your hand went straight to the scar where your ring used to be. 

Muscle memory, instinct. You remembered it before your mind even had a chance to lie. Wolves don’t forget that easily.”

My breath caught. My heart thudded hard against my ribs.

He was right.

That movement had been automatic, subconscious.

“But someone truly suffering from memory loss?” he continued, stepping closer, “They don’t remember marks left by love, or betrayal.”

I opened my mouth to deny it again, but his eyes held me still.

Had he known all along?

“And this,” he added, lifting his hand to brush the base of my skull, “you got when you were thrown from your first shift. You were sixteen. A wolf’s instinct is to hide weakness, so you tilted your head when the healer checked you. You didn’t even realize it, did you?”

My knees wobbled. I barely stayed upright.

That scar was from a memory so old and buried I hadn’t thought of it in years. How could he know?

We weren’t bonded. We’d barely spoken before all of this.

“Why didn’t you expose me?” I asked, dropping the pretense with a whisper.

A slow, dangerous smile crept across his face. “Because I wanted to see what kind of she-wolf you were beneath the lies. And because Rhett? He’s the kind of male who puts a leash on a storm and calls it tamed.”

He stepped into my space. I backed up, hitting the cold glass wall that framed the den like a cage.

Taren’s fingers found the back of my neck again, not rough, but firm, like a mate’s would be.

And that terrified me more than anything.

“My wolf saw yours,” he said, low and sure. “Even before you woke. She was bleeding, but not broken. Hiding, but not lost.”

His knee nudged between mine, not forceful, but commanding. I felt my wolf stir deep inside me, pressing to the surface in a slow, pulsing thrum. Her instincts didn't recoil from his; they reached for him.

The firelight cast golden shadows across his skin. Behind him, the mountain’s outline loomed dark against the window, and the stars blinked like watching spirits.

Then he leaned in, voice dropping into a growl that curled heat in my belly. “You keep pretending to forget, Kaela. But your wolf knows. She remembers. She hasn’t forgotten what it means to be wanted.”

He kissed me slowly. I should have shoved him away, I should have kept my focus on the plan. But something old and untamed broke loose in me, and I kissed him back.

It wasn’t love, it wasn’t even trust, it was instinct. Rhett had never kissed me like this. He’d never let our wolves truly touch. He always kept a layer of control, like mating with me would somehow dirty him.

Taren didn’t hold back. He kissed like a true dominant, like his wolf wanted to taste mine.

His palm slid to my waist. His voice pressed hot against my throat. “Revenge tastes better when your enemy can smell it on your skin.”

My breath caught. My wolf shivered inside me.

“Imagine him,” Taren murmured, mouth grazing the bond mark Rhett never claimed, “realizing the she-wolf he discarded is moaning under the male he fears most.”

A rush of something savage and dark twisted through me, pleasure, shame, justice.

I didn’t push Taren away.

I didn’t want to. Because for the first time since this all began, I felt more than just rage, I felt power.

Shame should have consumed me. Instead, a dark, thrilling satisfaction spread through me. I remembered that video, yes, let Rhett taste the bitterness of betrayal. Let Selene know that she had stolen nothing but a despicable man.

I rose on my toes, kissing Taren’s throat, feeling the vibrations under my lips. “Bedroom,” I gasped. “Now.”

Taren gave a low growl and swept me into his arms. As we went down the hall, my back brushed against a painting, pain flaring, but I didn’t care.

His kiss burned like fire on my neck,  across my collarbone, his fingers quickly undoing my shirt buttons. “Are you sure?” He paused suddenly, his gray-blue eyes locked on mine. “This isn’t a game, Kaela.”

I stared at him, this near-stranger, then reached to unbuckle his belt. “I’ve never been more sure.” He flipped me over, pinning me hard against the mattress, the soft bed groaning under the force.

“Do you know what this is?” He yanked my shirt open, buttons scattering, one leaving a red mark on my collarbone. “Taking advantage of someone’s weakness?”

I drove my knee against his abdomen. “It’s revenge.” My fingers trailed his taut abs. Taren’s eyes darkened. He seized my wrist, pulling it above my head, binding it with his tie. “Wrong.” His black hair fell forward, brushing over my chest. “This is revenge.”

His teeth sank into my neck. The sharp sting melted into a hot lick that made me arch back, trembling. His palm slid beneath my skirt, fingers finding me with unnerving precision.

“Five years.” His thumb pressed circles, his voice rough. “That waste.” The sudden pressure ripped a gasp from me.

Outside the French windows, the lights were on.

Taren yanked my hair, forcing my gaze to the window as his fingers drove deeper.

“Look, Kaela,” he breathed, his bent knuckles drawing lightning through me. “This is how you should feel.”

I bit down on his wrist, desperate to stifle the cry tearing from my throat.

The wet mark left by his fingers in the moonlight shimmered like pearls; the sound of the belt coming off was like a bullet being loaded.

When he paused at my entrance, sweat dripping from his jaw onto my stomach, I realized my legs were locked around his waist.

That realization burned more than any touch. “Say it. Say you want me.” His eyes blazed, savage.

I yanked his hair, pulling him close until our lashes brushed. “I hate you.”

His laugh thundered through me, and with it came the first violent crash of pain and pleasure all at once. Each thrust hit with precision, the headboard slamming the wall, my nails clawing deep red lines into his back.

“Look at me,” he ordered before release. And I did, his teeth clenched, sweat dripping. “Remember who made you feel this.”

I screamed his name as I reached the peak, images of Rhett and Selene entwined flashing through my mind.

Yes, they would pay the price.

And Taren, Taren was my sharpest weapon.

Sunlight spilled through the wide windows, painting long golden streaks across the polished floor.

I wore nothing but one of Taren’s black silk shirts, loose, barely brushing my thighs. 

The open collar slipped off my shoulder, exposing a trail of bruises and bite marks that whispered the truth of the night we’d shared.

The floor was cold beneath my bare feet as I crossed the room for a glass of water.

Then the doorbell rang.

I froze.

Moving to the peephole, I looked out, and there he was. I saw a frantic Rhett. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door.