Mathéo et Andréa

The scent of cheap vodka and expensive cologne couldn’t hide the sudden, terrifying drop in the room's temperature.

I froze, the silver cocktail shaker slipping slightly in my sweaty palms. The music at The Obsidian Lounge didn’t stop, but the laughter did. A heavy, suffocating aura rolled through the VIP lounge, thick with the scent of ozone, crushed pine needles, and raw, undisputed dominance.

Lycan. And not just any Lycan.

"He's here," my coworker whispered, her eyes wide with animalistic fear as her ears twitched beneath her blonde hair. "The King."

My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. Three years. I had hidden from him for three agonizing years in the human sectors, scrubbing floors and pouring drinks, all to keep my secrets safe. To keep them safe.

I shrunk behind the marble bar, pulling my baseball cap lower over my eyes. But it was too late.

The heavy glass entrance doors didn't just open; they shattered off their hinges under the sheer force of his entry. Six towering Beta guards flooded the room, clearing a path. And then, he walked in.

Kaelen Vance.

He was broader than I remembered, his massive frame poured into a dark, tailored Tom Ford suit that looked ready to tear against his muscle. His jaw was shadowed with stubble, and a jagged new scar cut through his left eyebrow, making him look entirely lethal. He didn't look like the low-ranking pack enforcer who had broken my heart and rejected me in a rainy alleyway. He looked like what he was now: the supreme, blood-soaked monarch of the Northern Packs.

Suddenly, the massive overhead AC unit kicked on, sending a sharp gust of wind sweeping past the bar—and straight toward the entrance.

It carried my scent. The hyper-concentrated sweetness of my "pure-blood" human lineage.

Kaelen stopped dead in his tracks. His nostrils flared. His eyes, usually a piercing silver, flashed a predatory, molten gold.

He smelled me.

"Clear the room," Kaelen roared, his voice a low, vibrating baritone that rattled the glassware on my shelves.

Panicked shifters scrambled for the exits, but I didn't join them. I bolted backward, throwing open the heavy oak door of the private VIP holding room. I slammed it shut behind me, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps as I looked around the plush, windowless red velvet room. I realised I was trapped.

The door handle clicked.

Kaelen stepped inside, locking the door behind him with a terrifyingly slow twist of his wrist. The air in the room instantly grew hot, thick, and heavy with his possessive pheromones.

"Did you really think you could run from your mate forever, Elena?" he growled, his silver eyes locking onto mine in the dim light.

"You rejected me, Kaelen," I spat, backing up until the back of my knees hit the velvet sofa. "We are nothing to each other."

In the blink of an eye, he blurred.

Before I could scream, his massive hands gripped my waist, lifting me effortlessly and pinning me against the wall. His body was a wall of solid, radiating heat, crushing my soft human frame against his hard chest. The mate-bond, dormant for years, roared back to life like a wildfire, sending a jolt of liquid electricity directly between my thighs.

"I lied," he whispered against my lips, his breath hot and minty. "And now, I'm taking what's mine."

He slammed his mouth onto mine.

The kiss wasn't gentle; it was a brutal, starving claim. He devoured my lips, his tongue tangling with mine with a feral desperation that made my knees go weak. I hated him. I hated him for what he did to me. But my traitorous human body melted instantly under his touch. I whimpered into his mouth, my hands automatically gripping his broad shoulders, my fingers digging into the expensive fabric of his suit.

Kaelen groaned, a deep, animalistic sound from the back of his throat. One of his large, calloused hands ripped open the front of my button-down shirt, popping the plastic buttons easily. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his hot breath branding my skin.

"God, you smell so good," he growled, his fangs scraping lightly against my pulsing jugular artery, threatening to mark me then and there. "Mine. For three years, I’ve starved for this."

His hand slid down my thigh, bunching up my skirt, his fingers dangerously close to the center of my heat. I was burning up, completely breathless, hovering on the edge of total surrender.

Then, the memory of my children's faces flashed in my mind. My babies. If he took me now, he would find them. He would take them away.

Spurred by pure maternal panic, my hand fumbled blindly along the side table next to the sofa. My fingers wrapped around a sharp, silver metal ice pick.

With a cry of defiance, I drove the silver spike straight into his shoulder.

Kaelen roared in shock and pain, his golden eyes snapping open as the silver burned his Lycan flesh. He stumbled backward, his grip loosening just enough.

I didn't waste a second. I pushed past him, tore open the hidden service exit behind the velvet curtain, and burst out into the freezing, pouring rain of the alleyway. I ran blindly, my torn shirt flapping in the wind, tears blurring my vision until I successfully threw myself into the back of a passing yellow taxi.

"Drive!" I screamed at the human driver. "Just drive!"

As the taxi sped away into the dark city streets, I clutched my chest, trying to stop my violent shaking. That was when my fingers brushed against my bare collarbone.

My heart stopped.

My locket. The silver locket containing the first-year photos of my secret half-Lycan twins was

gone. It had snapped off in his hands.