03

ELARA

My heart raced. I sat up straight, the warmth from my release evaporating instantly, replaced by cold dread. Then the voice broke into a goofy and familiar laughter and I almost threw my phone across the room.

"Sophie, I swear to the Moon Goddess."

She was cackling now, completely unraveling on the other end of the line, and I could picture her perfectly sprawled across her couch somewhere, tears streaming down her face, finding herself absolutely hilarious.

"You should have heard yourself. 'Mrs. Cross.'" She attempted the dramatic tone again between giggles. "I can't breathe right now."

"You are genuinely the worst person I know," I said, but I was already smiling, the tension bleeding out of my shoulders completely. "It's past midnight, Sophie."

"I know, I know. I just landed and couldn't resist. Forgive me, you know I love you."

"You landed? You're actually here? In the city?"

"In the flesh, baby. Flying visit, but I'll be in town for a few days. We need to catch up properly. It's been way too long, Elara."

It had been almost eight months since I had seen Sophie in person. My oldest friend from my old pack, the one person outside these walls who knew me before I became the rejected mate of the future Nightshade Alpha.

"Yes," I said, and my voice came out softer than I intended. "It really has."

We talked for another twenty minutes, she told me about her work trip, about a wolf from another pack she met at a conference who had given her his number twice because she  lost the first one. By the time I put the phone down, the sounds from the master bedroom had stopped entirely. The house was finally quiet.

I lay back on my pillow and stared at the ceiling.

For the first time in months, I fell asleep without a song playing underneath.

The next evening, I sat at my vanity and looked at myself properly for the first time in what felt like years.

Not the usual quick glance to make sure I was presentable for whatever pack event required my attendance. Not the hollow stare I had grown used to giving my own reflection. I actually looked. I studied the curve of my jaw, the fullness of my lips, my tired eyes that had once sparkled with life.

Lucian never asked where I was going. In two years, he had never once asked. I didn't need to announce anything or explain myself to anyone, I could simply leave, and the pack house would swallow my absence without noticing.

I reached for my makeup, I took my time. Foundation blended smooth, contour placed carefully along my cheekbones, a deep berry lip that I bought six months ago and never worn because there had been nowhere to wear it.

I curled my lashes, lined my eyes in a way that surprised even me, dusted highlighter across the bridge of my nose until my skin caught the light properly. Then I went to my wardrobe and pulled out the black dress.

It had been a birthday gift to myself, bought on one of those days when I wanted to feel sexy, and I shoved it to the back of the closet before I could talk myself out of burning it. It was short, not obscenely so, but short enough. The neckline dipped. The fabric clung to every curve I'd been hiding under modest clothing for two years.

I put it on and looked in the mirror. The woman staring back at me was someone I used to know, someone who existed before the rejection.

I grabbed my clutch, slipped into my heels, and walked out of the pack house without telling a single soul.

The club Sophie had chosen was the kind of place with no visible signage and a line that stretched half a block. It catered to both humans and wolves, one of the few neutral territories in the city where pack politics didn't matter.

I walked past all of it. Sophie had put my name on the VIP list, which meant a different entrance, a quieter staircase, and then suddenly the noise and heat of the upper level opening up all around me.

The VIP section was above the main floor, separated by velvet rope and low amber lighting. Curved booths, a private bar, music that was loud enough to feel but not so loud you couldn't hold a conversation.

I found an empty booth near the far end and settled in, ordering a drink from the server who appeared almost immediately. The glass was cold in my hand, and I took a slow sip, letting the atmosphere wash over me.

People laughed around me. Nobody here knew I was the rejected mate of Lucian Cross and that made me feel lighter..

I was sitting comfortably in that thought when my phone buzzed.

Sophie.

I answered with a smile already forming. "Where are you? I've been waiting."

"Okay, so..." She stretched the words out in a way that immediately told me something was wrong. Or rather, something Sophie-shaped was wrong, which was its own very specific category of disaster.

"Sophie."

"It was a prank. I'm not coming tonight."

I sat forward. "What?"

"I'm not actually in the city yet. I lied about landing. I'll be there in two days. But before you say anything, I've already sorted tonight out for you."

"What does that mean, you've sorted tonight out for me?"

"There's a guy." She said it quickly, like ripping off a bandage. "And…"

"Absolutely not."

"Elara, listen to me carefully. He's a wolf from a very exclusive... service. Very professional, very discreet, very good at what he does… and I mean very, very good. I've already taken care of everything. All you have to do is sit there and look exactly as gorgeous as I know you look right now and just let tonight happen."

"Sophie, you've lost your entire mind. I'm leaving right now."

"Don't fight it. Just this once in your life, don't fight it. You're a rejected mate living like a prisoner in that pack house. You deserve one night that belongs completely to you."

"I swear on the Moon Goddess that I will never speak to you again if you've actually done what I think you've done."

"I love you so much. Goodbye."

The call ended.

I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it. The screen went dark. I stared at it a little longer, waiting for it to offer some kind of explanation, or at minimum an apology.

It did not.

I reached for my clutch and began to slide out of the booth. That was the clear, obvious, sensible response to this situation. Stand up, walk back down the staircase, get into a car, go home to my ghost of a life, and pretend this evening never happened.

Completely reasonable.

I was halfway to standing when the door to the private section opened.

I didn't mean to look. It was just instinct, the way your eyes move toward any new movement in a room. But I looked, and then I simply could not look away.

He was tall, the kind of tall that changed the shape of a doorway. Dark hair pushed back from his face like he had run a hand through it at some point and simply left it there. 

A jaw that belonged on a sculpture and his scent hit me even from across the room, oud and something wild that made my dormant wolf stir for the first time in months.

He wore a simple dark shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, and he moved through the space like he was completely at home in his own body. He was, without any question, the most attractive man I have ever seen in my entire life.

My brain caught up with me slowly, reminding me that I was supposed to be leaving.

He scanned the section quickly, then his eyes golden, unmistakably wolf landed on me, and he changed direction. Walked straight toward me with the calm certainty of someone who had been told exactly where to go.

My stomach dropped.

He stopped just in front of my booth and looked at me with a half-smile that did something very unhelpful to my ability to form a normal thought.

"Oh," he said, his voice low and unhurried, with a slight growl underneath that sent shivers down my spine. "You must be the one they sent."

The words took a moment to land. I heard them, processed them slowly. Sent?

"Excuse me?" I straightened up. "They sent me? Nobody sent me anywhere. I was here first, and I was actually just leaving."

I moved to step around him.

His hand caught my wrist softly, and he pulled me back in one smooth motion. I turned directly into his chest before I could  even process that it was happening.

I could feel the warmth of him through his shirt, the undeniable reality of him, so completely different from the cold, empty air of the spare bedroom I'd been breathing for two years.

His scent wrapped around me, and my wolf whimpered. Actually whimpered. After two years of silence, she was suddenly awake and very, very interested.

I tilted my head up to tell him to let go of me immediately. That was the plan, that was absolutely my plan.

But before I could say anything, his head was already lowering toward mine, and then his lips were on my lips, and every word I'd prepared simply dissolved.

He kissed me like he had all the time in the world, slow, deep and deliberate, one hand settling at the small of my back and the other rising to cup the side of my face.

For one completely stunned second, I didn't move at all.

Then, against every reasonable thought I have ever had in my entire life, I kissed him back.