Four

My fingers twisted around my towel. I couldn’t make myself sit still.

Justin’s offer—or in this case, his insult—hung in the air of my bedroom.

A hotel room number.

Just one night.

No expectations.

It was nothing like the recognition I had dreamed of. It felt more like he considered me a cheap thrill.

A one-night stand.

A desperate part of me whispered that maybe he was protecting the bond from a room full of vultures. He feared the consequences of announcing it publicly and wanted a private affair.

Or maybe he was just ashamed of me.

Only one way to find out.

I snapped out of my thoughts and stared into the mirror. The woman staring back had too much hope in her eyes, and the sight of it made me sick to my stomach.

My hands moved on their own—turning the bathroom faucet, shedding my clothes, stepping into a tub of hot water.

When I got out, the black lingerie I had chosen clung to my skin. I grabbed the tube of blood-bright lipstick, uncapping it with fingers that wouldn’t stop trembling.

Why was I so nervous?

I pressed the color to my mouth, one careful stroke at a time, painting on a courage I didn’t feel.

My phone’s alarm buzzed on the counter. Twenty-five minutes left.

My thumb hovered over my brother’s name.

But I didn’t press it.

Brian wouldn’t understand this, and if he told our father, it would be the end of everything.

Dad would storm straight to the Lycans and flaunt the bond so loudly and proudly that Justin’s disgust for werewolves would curdle into hatred. The rejection then would be final.

With that thought, it seemed Justin was doing me a favor by keeping this quiet.

I slipped out of the house like a thief and slid into my car. The closer I got to the Grand Oak Hotel on the upper coast, the heavier my stomach felt.

Inside, the receptionist looked up from her screen. Her

Her smile froze for a second before reforming.

She was probably wondering what the Alpha’s daughter was doing here just before ten at night, dressed in little more than a short dress and heels.

“I’m here to check on the Queen,” I lied, my voice steadier than I felt.

“The Queen is at the royal manor, my lady.”

Shit.

“The King, then? Or Prince Justin?”

She shook her head. “None of the royals are officially registered at this property.”

The word hit me like a slap.

Justin had either lied or, worse, he had set me up to look like a desperate fool chasing after him.

“I see,” I managed to say. “Thank you.”

I walked out with what was left of my dignity and collapsed into the driver’s seat of my car.

I grabbed a makeup wipe from the glove compartment and scrubbed the red from my lips until the skin burned.

This wasn’t just rejection. It was a mockery.

I blinked back the hot tears threatening to fall.

What kind of cruel hide-and-seek game was that Lycan bastard playing?

The memory from earlier hit me. After he’d suggested meeting him at the hotel, I’d snapped out of my daze and rushed after him.

“Wait!”

He turned, lighting a scentless cigarette with a flick of his wrist.

“Was that a joke,” I demanded, “or are you just too much of a coward to admit what’s crackling between us?”

A lazy smile curved his lips. He walked toward me until the heat radiating off his body made my knees tremble.

His finger brushed along my jaw, sending a jolt through me.

I held my ground, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Bold words, little wolf,” he murmured, his eyes raking over me in a way that was both insulting and dangerously hot.

“I don’t do werewolves. But a night with you might not be the worst way to pass the time.”

I glared. He winked.

“Don’t be late, sweetheart.”

Then he turned and walked away, leaving me fuming in the corridor.

Blinking back to the present, I started the engine.

I hated him.

And I hated myself for the stubborn hope I couldn’t kill.

The moon had cursed me. Of that, I was certain.

I turned the car toward the coast, to the private beach our pack maintained.

My mother used to bring me here to pray. She said the ocean could carry grief away if you let it.

She used to whisper that I was moon-blessed. That the moon would send someone worthy of my spirit.

What a joke.

The beach was deserted. I kicked off my heels and stepped onto the cool sand.

The air smelled of salt and coconuts. Far across the water, the lights of the expressway glittered.

Figures in white robes glowed faintly near the shoreline, their positions marked by lanterns and the soft chime of bells.

My werewolf vision sharpened.

The Pack Seer and his students stood at the water’s edge. The Seer dipped his hand into the tide and began an off-key chant.

And then, Justin rose from the waves.

My breath caught.

What the…

Why was a Lycan prince taking part in a werewolf purification ritual?

The arrogant, untouchable prince from the ballroom was gone.

In his place stood a man who looked exhausted to his bones.

He stepped into a circle drawn in the sand. The Seer tied a red cord around his wrist.

His mother, the Queen, stood off to the side, watching helplessly.

The Seer placed his palm flat over Justin’s heart and began chanting in a language I didn’t recognize.

I leaned forward, straining to hear, when movement caught my eye.

A guard posted near the trees paused mid-step, frowning in my direction.

His hand moved to the blade at his hip.

Had he seen me? Or just sensed someone where no one should be?

I couldn’t risk it.

I ducked low and bolted into the shadows of the forest.

Branches slapped my bare arms as I sprinted toward the car.

No one called out. No footsteps followed. But panic still clogged my throat.

My tires sprayed sand as I sped away.

The shame from the hotel wrestled now with something new.

I drove straight to the Seer’s cottage on the forest’s edge.

The trees surrounding the tiny house stood still and quiet.

I cut the engine and waited in my car for two hours.

At midnight, the old man emerged and walked directly toward me, as if he’d known I was there the whole time.

I stepped out. “Elder, it’s Marissa.”

He looked me over, taking in my disheveled state.

“I know who you are.”

He paused, letting the silence stretch.

“What brings you to my shadows at this hour?”

“I saw the ritual on the beach. With the Lycan Queen and her son.”

He turned slowly, as if my urgency bored him.

“You saw what the moon allowed you to see.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He turned back, eyes sharp beneath his shawl.

“Some truths are not yours to carry.”

The words knocked the air from my lungs—not because of what he said, but how he said them. Like a curse. Or a warning.

“You think I don’t remember what you did to my mother?” I snapped. My anger rose to meet his calm.

“Your potions and your prayers didn’t save her. She died. And your niece Lilith took her place, as if it had been planned all along.”

His jaw tightened.

“You sold her lies,” I went on, stepping closer. “And now I find a Lycan prince kneeling at your feet? What did you do to him?”

That got a reaction. His glare could have cut stone.

His mouth thinned into a hard line. “You came here for answers. But answers always come with a cost.”

I stepped closer, until we were almost touching.

“Then tell me how much. I’ll pay.”

He chuckled, dry and humorless.

His final look was full of pity, not threat.

“Be careful, child. Sometimes the truth doesn’t set you free. It hunts you.”

Then he turned and walked back into the cottage, leaving me in the cold night air.