Chapter 3: The Morning After

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The first thing I noticed was the smell.

Cedar, rain, and him.

My eyes snapped open. I wasn't in my small, cramped room. I was in a massive bed with black silk sheets. The storm had passed, and morning sunlight was streaming through the heavy curtains.

Memories of last night came rushing back like a tidal wave. The whiskey. The heat. The King.

I turned my head slowly. The other side of the bed was empty, but the sheets were still rumpled and warm.

Oh, Goddess. What have I done?

Panic, cold and sharp, replaced the lingering desire. I had slept with the Alpha King. I had slept with Liam’s father.

I scrambled out of bed, grabbing my torn dress from the floor. My body ached—a dull, pleasant soreness between my legs that reminded me of just how thoroughly Killian had claimed me. But I couldn't stay. If Liam or anyone from the pack found me here, I would be dead.

Or worse, exiled.

I didn't see a note. Just a few gold coins left on the nightstand. Was that what I was to him? A paid service?

Anger flared, masking the hurt. Fine. Let’s keep it transactional.

I grabbed the coins—I needed money to run away anyway—and bolted. I managed to sneak out of the Forbidden Wing and back to the main Pack House before the servants started their rounds.

But my luck ran out the moment I stepped into the dining hall.

"Well, look who finally decided to show up."

The voice was shrill and mocking. Chloe.

I froze. The entire family was sitting at the long breakfast table. My father, my stepmother, Chloe... and Liam.

They all stopped eating and looked at me.

"Where were you all night?" my stepmother demanded, slamming her fork down. "You missed the ceremony. You embarrassed us!"

"She was probably crying in the woods like a stray dog," Liam sneered, not even looking at me. He was feeding Chloe a strawberry, his hand resting possessively on her thigh. "Let her be. She knows she has no place here anymore."

"Actually," Chloe smirked, eyeing my disheveled hair and the same dress I wore yesterday. "She looks like she rolled around in the mud. Disgusting. A wolf-less reject like her shouldn't even be allowed at the table."

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. The humiliation burned my throat. I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell them exactly whose bed I had "rolled around" in.

But before I could speak, the heavy double doors of the dining hall swung open with a loud bang.

The room went deadly silent.

A dark figure strode in. The air temperature seemed to drop ten degrees.

It was Killian.

He was wearing a fresh black suit, tailored perfectly to his massive frame. He looked regal, terrifying, and utterly calm.

Every single person at the table scrambled to stand up. Even my father bowed his head. Liam looked pale, his arrogance vanishing instantly.

"Alpha Killian," Liam stuttered, bowing low. "We... we weren't expecting you. To what do we owe the honor?"

Killian ignored him. He ignored my father. He ignored everyone.

His icy blue eyes scanned the room, lazy and predatory, until they landed on me.

My breath hitched.

He didn't say a word. He just walked slowly towards me, the sound of his heavy boots echoing on the marble floor. Thud. Thud. Thud.

He stopped right in front of me. He was so close I could smell the cedar soap he had used this morning. The same scent that was currently all over my skin.

"You left early," he said, his deep voice carrying through the silent room. It wasn't a question. It was an accusation.

Gasps rang out around the table. Chloe dropped her fork. Liam’s jaw hit the floor.

"I... I didn't want to wake you," I whispered, my voice trembling.

Killian’s eyes narrowed. He reached out, and for a terrifying second, I thought he was going to hit me.

Instead, his large hand moved to my collarbone. He hooked a finger under the strap of my dress and pulled it slightly to the side—revealing a dark, purple love bite he had left there last night.

The entire room saw it.

"Next time," Killian growled, his eyes locking with mine, "you wait until I'm done with you."

He let go of my strap and finally turned to look at Liam, who looked like he was about to vomit.

A cruel, satisfied smirk curled Killian's lips.

"Good morning... son."