Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE: ELARA

Victoria's smile was the last thing I saw before pain exploded across my face.

I hit the ground hard. Tasted blood. My vision blurred.

Hands grabbed me. Dragged me into the alley. I tried to scream. Something covered my mouth. A hand. Too strong. Too fast.

"Shh," Victoria whispered in my ear. "We're just going to talk."

I bit down. Hard.

She laughed and slammed my head against the brick wall.

Stars burst behind my eyes. My knees buckled.

"Feisty. I can see why he likes you."

I couldn't focus. Couldn't breathe. There were others. Three? Four? I couldn't tell. They moved wrong. Too fast. Too fluid.

Victoria crouched in front of me. Grabbed my hair. Yanked my head back.

"Did you think it wouldn't matter?" she asked. "Did you think you could let an Alpha fuck you and walk away clean?"

"I don't…I don't know what…"

"You reek of him." She leaned closer. Inhaled. Her eyes flashed something inhuman. "His claim is all over you. In your skin. Your blood. Do you have any idea what that means in our world?"

Our world. What world? What was she talking about?

"Please," I managed. "I don't understand."

"You will."

She nodded to someone behind me.

Pain ripped through my shoulder. I screamed against the hand covering my mouth. Something sharp. Claws. Not nails. Claws.

"He marked you," Victoria said, almost conversational. "So now I'm going to erase it. And when he finds you broken and bleeding, he'll understand what happens when you take things that don't belong to you."

She was insane. She had to be insane.

I twisted. Kicked. My heel connected with someone's knee. They grunted but didn't let go.

"Hold her still."

More hands. More pressure. I couldn't move. Couldn't fight.

Victoria pulled out a knife.

"This is going to hurt."

I believed her.

The blade pressed against my throat. Cold. Sharp. Final.

This was it. This was how I died. In an alley three blocks from safety because I'd been stupid enough to sleep with a man I didn't understand.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. To Marcus. To myself. To whatever life I could have had if I'd just made different choices.

Victoria smiled.

Then something roared.

Not a person. Not human.

The sound shook the air. Primal. Feral. Furious.

Victoria's expression changed. Fear replaced cruelty in an instant.

"Fuck. Run. RUN!"

The hands holding me released. Bodies scattered. Victoria was already moving, faster than anyone should move, disappearing into the darkness.

I collapsed against the wall. Tried to stand. Couldn't.

Footsteps. Heavy. Deliberate. Coming closer.

I looked up.

Lucien stood at the mouth of the alley.

But he wasn't Lucien anymore.

His eyes glowed. Actually glowed. Amber fire that burned in the darkness. His hands weren't hands. They were clawed. Wrong. His entire body was larger, more defined, like something inside him was trying to break free.

He looked at me. Just looked at me.

Then he turned to the three men who hadn't run fast enough.

What happened next wasn't a fight.

It was a slaughter.

He moved like liquid violence. Grabbed the first man by the throat and threw him into the wall hard enough to crack brick. The second tried to run. Lucien caught him in three strides. I heard bones break. Heard screaming. Heard it stop.

The third pulled a gun.

Lucien didn't even slow down.

He ripped the gun from the man's hand, crushed it like paper, and then,

I closed my eyes.

The sounds were enough.

Wet. Final. Absolute.

When silence fell, I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't process what I'd just witnessed.

Footsteps approached.

I pressed harder against the wall. Wished I could disappear into it.

"Elara."

His voice. Still his voice. But rougher. Deeper. Wrong.

I opened my eyes.

He stood in front of me. Still half-transformed. Still glowing. Covered in blood that wasn't his.

"Don't," I whispered.

He froze.

"Don't hurt me. Please."

Something flickered in those inhuman eyes. Pain. Recognition.

He took a slow breath. Then another. His body shuddered. The glow faded. The claws retracted. When he looked at me again, his eyes were human.

Mostly.

"I would never hurt you," he said quietly.

I didn't believe him.

He saw that. Understood it.

"I'm going to pick you up now," he said. "You're injured. You need medical attention."

"Hospital…"

"No hospital. Too many questions."

"I don't…I can't…"

"Elara." He crouched in front of me. Slow. Careful. Like approaching a wounded animal. "You're bleeding. You're in shock. And Victoria will come back with reinforcements if we stay here. So I need you to trust me for the next ten minutes. Can you do that?"

I couldn't trust him. Couldn't trust anyone.

But I also couldn't stand. Couldn't run. Couldn't do anything except shake and bleed and try not to scream.

"Okay," I whispered.

He picked me up like I weighed nothing. Cradled me against his chest. His shirt was warm. Wet. Blood. So much blood.

I closed my eyes and prayed I'd wake up somewhere that made sense.

His apartment. Again.

He set me on the couch. The same couch where he'd…

No. Don't think about that.

"Stay still," he said.

He disappeared into another room. Came back with a first aid kit that looked more suited for a battlefield than a home.

His hands were gentle. Efficient. He cleaned the cuts on my face. Bandaged the gash on my shoulder. Checked my pupils for concussion.

I let him. Didn't fight. Didn't speak.

My brain was still trying to process what I'd seen. What he'd done. What he'd been.

"You're going into shock," he said quietly. "I need you to stay with me, Elara. Focus on my voice."

I focused on his hands instead. Normal hands. Human hands.

Except they weren't. I'd seen them. Seen what they became.

"What are you?" The question came out broken. Small.

He stopped. Met my eyes.

"You know what I am."

"No. I don't. I don't know anything."

He set down the bandages. Sat back on his heels.

"I'm a werewolf, Elara."

I laughed. Couldn't help it. The sound was hysterical. Wrong.

"Werewolves don't exist."

"You just watched me kill three men with my bare hands."

"That doesn't mean…"

"Look at me."

I looked.

His eyes flashed gold. Just for a second. Just long enough to prove I wasn't insane.

The laugh died in my throat.

"Oh God."

"Werewolves exist," he continued. His voice was calm. Too calm. "We've existed for thousands of years. We run most of the city's power structures. Banks. Corporations. Government. We hide in plain sight because humans don't want to believe what they can't explain."

I couldn't breathe. The room was spinning.

"Victoria is one," he said. "Her entire family is. Mafia ties. Old bloodlines. Dangerous."

"Why…" I couldn't form complete sentences. "Why did she…"

"Because of me. Because of what I did to you."

My stomach dropped.

"What you did to me?"

He stood. Paced. Ran a hand through his hair. For the first time since I'd known him, Lucien Blackwood looked uncertain.

"The night you came here. The full moon. I wasn't in control. My wolf was too close to the surface and you…" He stopped. "You calmed something I've never been able to control. And when we were together, something happened that I didn't intend."

"What happened?"

He turned to face me. His expression was dark. Guilty.

"I marked you. Claimed you. In my world, that means ownership. Protection. Possession. It's called an imprint. It's permanent."

The words didn't make sense. None of this made sense.

"You're saying you…what? Branded me?"

"Yes."

"Without asking?"

"I didn't know I was doing it. The wolf doesn't ask for permission. It takes what it wants."

I tried to stand. Failed. Tried again. Lucien reached for me. I shoved his hands away.

"Don't touch me."

He stepped back. Hands raised.

"You marked me," I repeated. "And now what? Everyone knows? Every…every werewolf can tell?"

"Yes."

"That's why Victoria attacked me."

"Yes."

"Because you…because we…" I couldn't say it. Couldn't acknowledge that the best and worst night of my life had consequences I never agreed to. "You had no right."

"I know."

"I didn't consent to this."

"I know."

"Then fix it!" My voice cracked. "Undo it. Remove it. Whatever you did, reverse it."

"I can't."

"You can't or you won't?"

"Both." He moved closer. I backed away. He stopped. "An imprint can't be undone, Elara. It's written into your biology now. Your scent. Your blood. Every werewolf within a hundred miles knows you belong to me."

"I don't belong to you."

"I know that. But they don't. And they won't care."

The room was too small. Too hot. I couldn't breathe.

"So what happens now?" I asked.

Lucien's expression shifted. Something dangerous flickered in his eyes. The wolf was still too close to the surface.

"Now?" He stepped closer. Deliberately. Slowly. His hand cupped my jaw. Forced me to look at him. "Now I keep you alive. Whether you want me to or not."

I should be afraid.

I was afraid.

But there was something else beneath the fear. Something my body recognized even if my mind refused to. Something that remembered his hands. His mouth. The way he'd worshipped me.

"You can't just…"

"I can. I will." His thumb traced my bottom lip. The same lip he'd bitten two weeks ago. The same lip I could still taste him on. "They know you're mine now, Elara. Which means they'll keep coming. And I will keep killing them."

His eyes flashed gold.

"Until they learn."