Chapter 4

LYRA

Zane Wynter. 

The emotionally bankrupt Alpha of the Eclipse Pack.

Six feet and more of composed, golden-eyed irritation. He's wearing a tailored white shirt, with a few buttons left open at the top, where I can see the faintest outline of a tattoo on the left side of his muscled chest. His sleeves are tight over his biceps and rolled to his elbows. My eyes drop to his forearms, where I can see a bit of a tattoo peeking out.

Does he have a half sleeve? 

Fuck, that's sexy.

No, no, nope, it is not. 

It is sexy on any man other than Zane Wynter.

When he walks through the doors, his glowing Alpha power isn't on display. He doesn’t need to puff his chest or growl like a feral animal. He just is. A presence. 

He has this ridiculously intense aura that makes you want to shrink back into your chair and divert your eyes.

The man stalks to his immaculate desk and sits, completely silent, all grace and zero welcome.

Then he lifts his eyes to Talia.

Not to me.

Just her.

“Beta Douglas,” he says smoothly, in that deep voice. “I'm surprised you're the one who brought her.”

Talia gives a respectful nod, keeping her eyes down. “Alpha Wynter.”

He pulls back a bit of his Alpha aura, and Talia, Leon and the other warrior all lift their gazes. 

Then it begins.

“So,” he says, his voice cool and calm, “what exactly do the Alphas expect I do for… her?”

Her.

Like I’m not in the room.

Talia folds her hands in her lap, as composed as ever. “Alpha Alexander and Alpha Nova believe that your rigorous training program may help ground her.”

Ground me.

Oh please.

“They’re hoping the structure and discipline here will offer stability. That being surrounded by others as strong as she is might help her channel her… frustrations more productively.”

Frustrations.

I resist the urge to gag.

“They’ve also sent me to accompany her,” Talia adds. “To offer support and… perspective.”

Zane lifts his brow, and it's obvious he sees right through it.

Translation: babysitting duty.

Honestly, Talia is making it sound like I’m a toddler who throws tantrums in supermarkets. Like I need someone to pat my head and say, “Use your words” when I start seeing red.

Throughout the meeting, I just stare straight ahead, clenching my jaw while they discuss me like I’m not even here.

HE hasn't acknowledged me once.

I could strip naked right here, toss my top into the water feature and parade around in lace panties, and I swear he still wouldn’t look at me.

That stings.

Not because I want his attention.

Not because I care.

Not because he’s stupidly, painfully attractive in that brooding, morally gray way that ruins all good sense.

No.

It stings because I hate being ignored.

I hate being dismissed.

And I loathe being underestimated.

Finally, Zane flicks his cold gaze to me. For a few seconds, I'm absolutely lost.

Gold… It’s one of the warmest colours. It's the colour of the sun for fucks sake. So how the hell does he make such a warm colour look so cold? So… lifeless…

“If you don’t believe I’m capable of handling one little she-wolf,” he says to Talia, never breaking eye contact with me, “why send her here in the first place?”

I roll my eyes so hard I see another dimension.

And that’s when I hear a low, dark snarl from across the desk. It is soft, but definitely a warning. 

Talia, however, doesn’t react. She is the epitome of political politeness.

I blink. Did I imagine it?

Nope. No way.

His jaw is tight. His hands are clenched into fists on the table like he’s resisting the urge to grab me by the throat. 

Wait, is that an emotion? Is anger the only emotion he feels? 

Good to know.

Because right now, he looks at me like he wants to tear me apart. 

And I can’t say a fucking thing. There’s this massive, ugly lump in my throat that refuses to budge.

Talia keeps talking like the Beta she is. Calm and professional. Smooth as silk. Meanwhile, I sit in this huge office, silently unravelling.

***

Thank fuck he allowed Talia to stay. 

Which means I’ll have one friendly fucking face around. Someone who cares. Who doesn’t look at me like I’m some alien from another planet.

Not like the omegas now leading us toward our accommodations. Liz and Clara's eyes are flickering over me like I’m a misplaced piece of furniture.

Granted, I am wearing stilettos, a short red skirt and a black low-cut top that makes my curves look absolutely grabable. While everyone else looks dull…

But this is my style. 

Screw the world.

What does annoy me is that, for some strange reason, Alpha Asshole himself is walking along.

Not ahead, but a few steps behind. Like a predator stalking its prey. And I hate that it's exactly how I feel. 

He’s not even in a crouched, predatory stance. Nope. He's walking straight. Sophisticated. Which is worse, because even in my heels, he towers over me. 

His leather shoes crunch softly against the gravel behind me, and packmembers nod in deference as he passes, but he doesn't say a word to anyone. Not even the four warriors, who are currently running towards us. 

And holy hell. 

If all the men here look like that, the eye candy in this pack might almost make this stay bearable. 

I openly check them out, and one in the back looks particularly delicious. His blonde hair sticks to his forehead, and he’s shirtless with beads of sweat dripping down a toned, tan chest.

I’m all but drooling when a deep growl sounds behind me, along with a firm hand on my back, suddenly urging me forward. The ‘gentle’ push nearly causes me to trip and fall face-first into the ground. 

Is he seriously this pissed that I’m checking out his men? 

For fuck sakes, it’s not like I’ll mate with one of them and he’ll be stuck with me in his pack permanently.

Asshole.

We finally come to a stop in front of a large, three-story apartment block. The building is painted the same black and grey as the other buildings. The tinted automatic glass doors softly reflect the cold artificial lights inside the foyer, and Liz and Clara begin carrying Talia’s luggage inside, both of them moving efficiently and silently.

Talia nods respectfully at the Alpha and thanks him politely, but he just waves her inside. He barely spares her a look. I watch as Talia steps through the front doors, disappearing inside with a soft click of the automatic lock behind her and moves across the foyer to the elevators.

But when I take a step to follow her, ready to escape this suffocating tension, a large hand clamps firmly around my upper arm.

“You’re not staying here.”