THE GIRL WHO SPILLED ON DEATH

I spilled wine on the man they call Death.

Not just any wine. The sacred blood-wine for the Alpha Conclave.

Twelve Alphas turned to stare at me. And he.... Kael Thorne — looked down at the red stain spreading across his black shirt.

My life ended in that second.

"You," he said.

His voice was low. Calm. The kind of calm that happens right before a throat is ripped out.

Everyone in the Ravager pack knows three rules: Never look Kael Thorne in the eyes. Never speak unless he speaks to you. And never, ever touch him.

I had done all three in five seconds.

"I— I didn't — the tray slipped—" The words tumbled out of me. I talk too much when I'm scared. It's a terrible habit. My mother said it would kill me one day.

Today she was right.

Kael rose slowly from his throne. He is 6'5 of pure, scarred muscle. The alpha everyone fears not because he shouts — but because he doesn't. He never shouts. He just kills. The scar that runs from his left cheek down to his throat pulsed as his jaw clenched.

The entire hall went silent. I could hear the torches crackling.

He stepped closer. The scent hit me first — pine, smoke, cold rain, and something wild that made my wolf-less Omega heart beat too fast. It was wrong to find the most lethal man in the territories attractive. But goddess, he was. Dark hair, ice-blue eyes that had seen too many battles, and a body that looked like it was carved for war.

And he was looking at me like I was already dead.

His hand shot out.

I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for my neck to snap.

But his fingers stopped a breath from my skin. He inhaled. Deeply. His nostrils flared.

Then his eyes snapped open, and they were no longer ice-blue. They were gold. Glowing. His wolf.

"What is your name, Omega?"

"E-Elyra. Elyra Vex."

"Elyra Vex," he repeated, like he was tasting poison. His hand finally closed around my throat. Not squeezing yet. Just holding. His palm was huge, burning hot. "Do you know what I do to things that stain what is mine?"

The sexual tension in that hold was insane. His thumb brushed my pulse, which was hammering out of control. I should have been only terrified. I was terrified — but my body betrayed me. My knees weakened. I could feel heat pooling low in my belly from his dominance alone. He was so close I could see the sweat on his chest where his shirt clung to him, open at the top.

"I can wash it," I blurted, because I cannot shut up. "If you kill me, who will wash your scary shirt? And I am very good at washing. I wash all the—"

Someone gasped. No one talks back to Kael Thorne.

His eyebrows lifted, just a fraction. Surprise flickered in that lethal face.

"You are offering to do laundry for me? To save your life?"

"Yes. And ironing. I can iron too."

A sound escaped him. Not quite a laugh. More like a growl that got stuck. For the first time in my 21 years, an Alpha looked at me — a scrawny, wolfless Omega slave with wine on her hands — like I was interesting.

That was when Priestess Morvath screamed.

"DO NOT TOUCH HER!"

Every head snapped to the high priestess. She was pale, pointing at me with a shaking hand.

"She is marked! The moon marked her! You cannot kill her, Alpha Thorne. She is the sacrifice!"

Silence. Cold, absolute silence.

Kael's hand didn't leave my throat, but his head turned to Morvath. "What did you say?"

"The 72-hour sacrifice," Morvath whispered. "The ritual to seal the peace treaty. We must offer a pure, unmated Omega female on the blood moon. The moon goddess herself chose her three nights ago. Elyra Vex. If she dies before the ritual, the treaty breaks and the packs go to war."

My blood ran cold. This was the first I was hearing of this.

Sacrifice? I was going to be sacrificed?

Kael looked back down at me. His gold eyes searched my face. He leaned in, until his mouth was inches from my ear. His breath was hot.

"Pure, unmated Omega," he murmured, so low only I could hear. "Are you pure, little laundry girl?"

My face burned. The way he said pure — slow, filthy, like he was imagining proving I wasn't — sent a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with fear.

"I — yes," I whispered.

"Liar," he breathed, and my entire body flushed. He wasn't touching me anywhere except my throat, but it felt like he was touching everywhere.

Then he straightened, his eyes flashing back to ice-blue, his mask of lethal indifference snapping back into place. He looked at the Conclave.

"Then she doesn't die today," he announced. His voice was deadly calm again. "She dies in 72 hours on the altar. Until then—"

He finally released my throat. I gasped for air, stumbling.

"—until then, she belongs to me."

Morvath stepped forward. "Alpha, tradition says the sacrifice must remain untouched in the temple—"

"Tradition also says no one spills blood-wine on me and lives," Kael cut her off. His eyes never left me. "So I'm changing the tradition. She stays in my quarters. Under my guard. If anyone else touches her, I'll kill them. If she tries to run, I'll break her legs and carry her to the altar myself. Understood?"

No one dared argue with Kael Thorne.

Two guards grabbed my arms. I was dragged across the hall, past twelve Alphas who looked at me like I was already a ghost.

Kael walked ahead of me. His back was broad, his black shirt still stained red with the wine I spilled. The muscles moved underneath.

He opened the door to his bedroom — a huge, dark room that smelled entirely like him. Pine, smoke, leather. A massive bed. Furs. Weapons on the walls.

The guards threw me inside. Kael walked in after me and shut the door. Locked it.

Click.

We were alone.

I backed against the wall. "What are you — what are you going to do?"

He slowly unbuttoned the stained shirt, peeling it off his shoulders. My mouth went dry. Goddess. His chest was ridiculous. Scarred, carved, dripping with power. A tattoo of a black wolf snarled over his heart.

He threw the shirt at my face.

"Wash it," he said.

I stared at him, clutching his shirt that still held his heat. "What?"

"You said you were good at washing. Wash it. Then we will talk about how a wolfless Omega like you got chosen by the moon goddess."

He walked to the bathroom, giving me a full view of that lethal back, and called over his shoulder, "And Elyra?"

"Yes?"

"If you think about screaming ...don't. No one will come. Everyone is too scared of what I'll do to them if they interrupt me while you're in my bedroom."

The bathroom door shut, leaving me alone in the Lethal Alpha's bedroom, holding his shirt, 72 hours away from being sacrificed ...and for some insane reason, all I could think about was his gold eyes when he smelled me.

And why did he stop himself from killing me?

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