Chapter 3

~Annalyn POV~

He didn't walk out of the shadows...he commanded them. The night bent around him, like it recognized a predator more powerful than darkness itself. Even the wind stilled. The crickets fell silent. And under the weak moonlight, his golden eyes locked on me like a claim made without words.

"Step away from her, Matteo."

His voice was quiet, but it cut through the thick air like a blade. Matteo didn't move, his hand stayed firm around my waist, his body slightly in front of mine...protecting me. Or maybe guarding what he thought belonged to him.

"I said," the stranger repeated, his tone colder now, "step away."

Lucas, that name fell from Matteo's lips like a warning. "You're late."

He said it without turning.

"And you're possessive," Lucas replied smoothly, ignoring Matteo's barb as he took another step closer.

I peeked from behind Matteo's shoulder and saw the man everyone had been avoiding talking about...the third alpha. Lucas Del Piero was taller than both Matteo and Calix. His skin was sun-warmed and lean muscle stretched over every inch of him. A faded scar carved its way down his neck, disappearing beneath the waistband of his low-slung black pants. He wore no shirt, and somehow that made him look even more dangerous.

He moved like a god who'd grown bored with worship and now wanted to destroy.

Matteo's voice dropped into something hard. "You're not touching her."

"She's already heating," Lucas said. "I can smell it."

I was tensed. "No, I'm not," I snapped, stepping out from behind Matteo. "And even if I was..."

Lucas's eyes pinned me in place. "You are... Your body knows what your mind won't accept yet."

Heat surged up my neck. "Stop talking like I'm some animal."

"You're not an animal, Annalyn," he said, taking another slow step forward, his eyes never leaving mine. "You're the storm, and you were made for alphas like us."

I scoffed. "That's insane."

Lucas turned to Matteo, ignoring me completely. "Did you mark her?"

"No."

"But you kissed her."

Matteo's jaw clenched.

Lucas nodded once. "Then I'll be the first to touch her properly."

"You'll stay away from her," Matteo growled, stepping forward.

"You're scared," Lucas said, grinning. "Because you know she'll respond to me faster than she ever did to you."

"Don't test me, Lucas!"

Their energy crackled between them like lightning about to strike. I felt it in my bones, pulsing through my chest. The ground under my bare feet suddenly didn't feel so stable.

Lucas turned to me again, and this time his voice dropped to something silkier.

"When you break, Annalyn...and you will...only one of us can ease the pain."

I couldn't breathe. That night, sleep never came.

I tossed under the covers, my skin burning, sweat coating the back of my neck. I stripped off my shirt, opened every window, even splashed cold water on my inner thighs.

It didn't help, nothing helped. My skin tingled and my heart pounded for no reason. My body felt swollen.... alive and desperate.

Worse… I could smell them. Three distinct scents lingered in my memory like ghosts on my tongue.

Matteo was rain and cedarwood, Calix—smoke and steel.

Lucas... forest and thunder. Wild, unrelenting.

I hated how my body responded to all three.

How my thighs pressed together when I thought about Matteo's mouth, how Calix's hands had felt in my dreams. How Lucas's voice made something deep and forbidden twist inside me.

I bit my lip until I tasted blood. No, I was still me, I was still in control.

I was... A soft knock pulled me upright, three gentle taps, but I didn't answer.

The door creaked open anyway, and Lucas stepped inside.

Bare chest. Dark pants. His presence filled the entire room.

"What do you want?" I asked, voice shaking.

"You."

I should have told him to get out, but I didn't because I couldn't.

He walked slowly, like he already knew I wouldn't stop him, his eyes traced the lines of my body...my bare legs, my loose tank top, my flushed skin.

He was silent until he stood just a breath away.

"You're burning up," he murmured.

"Stay away from me."

"You think I want this?" His voice cracked, not with weakness—but with something raw. "You think I like waking up every night craving a woman I haven't even touched? This isn't about choice. This is instinct. This is blood!"

I shook my head. "No! I didn't ask for this."

"You were born for it."

"Get out!"

"I will," he said softly, "after I prove what your body already knows."

He moved too fast to react. One hand against my waist, the other slipping under my tank top. Rough fingers brushed the underside of my breast and I gasped, grabbing his wrist.

"Don't..."

"You're soaked," he said, sliding his hand down until his fingers pressed between my thighs through the thin cotton of my shorts. "Your heat has started."

"Stop," I whispered, breathless.

But he didn't, his fingers moved. Not gently, not violently, with purpose. As if he'd already memorized how to unravel me. My legs shook and my back arched.

My mind screamed no...but my body betrayed me with a soft, helpless moan.

Lucas leaned in, his breath hot against my neck. "Next time, you'll beg for me."

He pulled his hand back, took one step away, and just like that—he was gone.

I collapsed to the floor, shaking. My legs useless, my hands trembling. Shame clawed at my throat. Rage followed, then desire again. I pressed my hand to my chest, trying to breathe and I looked down.

A drop of blood slid down my inner thigh, my heat had begun and every alpha in this house could smell it.

The blood was thin, barely more than a smear sliding down my inner thigh. But the scent… It was enough.

The moment I tasted iron on my tongue, I knew something inside me had shifted. Like a thread snapping. Like a door creaking open between the girl I used to be… and the creature I was becoming.

I didn't recognize her, and worse...I couldn't control her.

I rushed to the bathroom and turned on the faucet cold water. I splashed it over my thighs, over my neck, my chest. But nothing cooled me down. My skin was fire. My breath came in short, shallow bursts. And between my legs...God...I was aching.

The word Matteo had spoken in a low growl days ago came back to me now.

"You'll go into heat, Annalyn, and when it comes, it won't care about your pride."

I thought I'd been strong enough, thought I could hold out, resist, escape.

But now…

My thighs were slick again. My body was pulsing with need, I gripped the marble edge of the sink, bent forward, and tried to fight it. The pressure building low in my belly. The hollow ache. The maddening, throbbing emptiness.

And then I felt it, a presence, a scent. Cedarwood, damp earth, and rain.

Matteo!

I turned, and he was already in the doorway. He didn't speak, he didn't need to.

His eyes raked over me...my damp skin, my flushed cheeks, the faint smear of blood on my inner thigh. His jaw clenched, and I swore I saw something snap in him.

I took a shaky step back. "Don't."

"You're in pain," he said, voice dark. "You need relief."

"I don't need you."

His gaze held mine. "Liar."

He was on me in two strides, I didn't even have time to flinch.

His hands gripped my waist, spinning me around, pressing my back to the cold tile wall. His mouth crashed against mine, hot and hungry, tasting every inch like he'd been starving for it.

I moaned...too loud...and hated how my body arched against him.

"You hate me," he growled against my throat, "but your body doesn't."

His hand slid between my thighs, I gasped, I should've screamed, should've fought.

Instead, I clutched his shoulders like I was drowning.

"I can't…" I whispered, "It's too much…"

"I know," he breathed. "Let me help."

He knelt.

Right there on the cold bathroom floor, the heir to the Del Piero bloodline knelt between my legs and pulled my underwear aside like it was a gift he'd waited his whole life to open.

His tongue slid between my folds and my legs buckled.

"Oh, God...Matteo..."