Chapter 6: A night to remember

  

  

  

    Serena’s POV 

  

  

  

  

    I told myself not to look at him.

  

  

  

    Not to glance up when he passed. Not to notice how the soft overhead lights kissed his jawline as he descended the stairs. Not to wonder what he smelled like up close, or how someone so cold could look like fire dressed in black.

  

  

  

    But I looked anyway.

  

  

  

    Just a second too long.

  

  

  

    And that was all it took.

  

  

  

    I was standing by the corner of the lounge, carefully collecting empty wine glasses from a nearby table. I kept my posture straight, my eyes lowered—but just as Kael came down the curved marble staircase, my gaze flicked up. Uncontrolled. Unthinking.

  

  

  

    He wore a fitted dark shirt and tailored slacks, sleeves rolled at his forearms, and a single silver ring on his right hand. His hair was swept back, sharp. His eyes were unreadable.

  

  

  

    A god among wolves.

  

  

  

    And I, the human maid with a tray in hand, should have known better.

  

  

  

    I dropped my gaze instantly.

  

  

  

    But not before someone else saw.

  

  

  

    Mirah.

  

  

  

    She stood just a few feet away, speaking to a warrior and sipping from a crystal glass. Her navy gown shimmered like the sky at midnight, her lips tinted wine-red. When I glanced her way, her eyes were already on me.

  

  

  

    Not angry.

  

  

  

    Not loud.

  

  

  

    Just… calculating.

  

  

  

    She took a step toward me slowly, as if she were stretching between worlds—hers and mine. When she reached the table beside me, she placed her glass down with perfect precision.

  

  

  

    “You’re new to the upper wing, aren’t you?” she asked, voice smooth as velvet.

  

  

  

    I blinked. “No, ma’am. I’ve always worked here.”

  

  

  

    “Hmm.” She smiled faintly. “Then perhaps you’ve forgotten the rules.”

  

  

  

    I didn’t answer.

  

  

  

    “Maids don’t make eye contact with the Alpha,” she said, still smiling. “Especially not while he’s with his Luna.”

  

  

  

    I stiffened. “I wasn’t—”

  

  

  

    “Looking?” she interrupted softly. “I watched you. Your eyes followed him down the stairs like you had a right to.”

  

  

  

    Her voice was calm.

  

  

  

    But her words cut like knives.

  

  

  

    “I apologize,” I said quickly. “I meant no disrespect.”

  

  

  

    “No,” she replied. “You didn’t. That’s the problem. You didn’t mean anything at all. You just forgot where you stand.”

  

  

  

    I lowered my head.

  

  

  

    “I understand.”

  

  

  

    “Good.” She leaned in slightly, her voice like ice beneath the warmth. “Because in this house, respect isn’t just a rule. It’s survival and humans like you should know their place”

  

  

  

    Then she stepped away.

  

  

  

    Effortless. Polished. Untouchable.

  

  

  

    I swallowed hard and forced myself back into motion, collecting more glasses, wiping counters, anything to distract me from the heat burning behind my eyes.

  

  

  

  

    The party stretched on for hours.

  

  

  

    Music played softly through hidden speakers. Wolves laughed and drank and flirted and bragged. The councilmen toasted Kael even though he barely raised his glass. Young she-wolves in glittering dresses danced near the patio. The scent of alcohol lingered thick in the air, passed around like water.

  

  

  

    I stayed invisible.

  

  

  

    I wanted to be.

  

  

  

    But I watched from the sidelines as Kael moved through the crowd. Silent. Powerful. Drinking slowly at first, then more. Enough that his stance changed. His shoulders relaxed. His collar unbuttoned. His jaw loosened as though sleep had brushed over him but hadn’t claimed him yet.

  

  

  

    I’d never seen him like that.

  

  

  

    Almost… human.

  

  

  

    Midnight arrived, and the guests slowly trickled out. One by one, the wolves disappeared through the wide double doors. Some with mates. Some alone. Mirah left in a sleek black SUV, her hand still clutching her glass like royalty.

  

  

  

    By half past midnight, only the Beta, a few warriors, and Kael remained.

  

  

  

    And Kael… was drunk.

  

  

  

    I passed him as I headed to the kitchen with a tray. He was stumbling slightly, walking up the wide staircase, one hand gripping the rail. His shirt was wrinkled now, his eyes low-lidded, expression unreadable.

  

  

  

    Then something clattered on the stairs behind him.

  

  

  

    A phone.

  

  

  

    His.

  

  

  

    I bent quickly, picked it up, and stared at it for a second. The screen was cracked slightly on the edge, but still lit. An image of a crest—a wolf howling against a moon—shone faintly in the background.

  

  

  

    I turned toward the stairs.

  

  

   He didn’t notice.

  

  

  

    But I did.

  

  

  

    I picked it up, the cracked screen still glowing faintly in my hand. My heart beat faster the longer I stood there, unsure what to do. The logical thing would’ve been to leave it with the guards or place it outside his room.

  

  

  

    But something pulled me forward.

  

  

    He was still going up, slower now.

  

  

  

    I shouldn’t follow.

  

  

  

    I really shouldn’t.

  

  

  

    But I did.

  

  

  

    I shouldn’t have followed him.

  

  

  

    I knew better. Knew what it meant to walk into a wolf’s den without permission. But when his phone slipped from his fingers and clattered on the steps behind him… I reacted.

  

  

  

    Something reckless.

  

  

  

    I climbed the stairs slowly, breath shallow, footsteps barely making a sound.

  

  

  

    His bedroom door was ajar.

  

  

  

    I hesitated.

  

  

  

    Then I knocked, softly. “Alpha Kael… you dropped this.”

  

  

  

    No response.

  

  

  

    I pushed gently, the door creaking open. Inside, he was half-sitting, half-sinking into the edge of the chair beside his bed. One elbow rested on his knee, the other arm hanging loosely at his side. His shirt was rumpled. His hair tousled. He looked like a god disassembled—still divine, but undone.

  

  

  

    He didn’t even look up.

  

  

  

    “I’m fine,” he muttered, voice thick and low. “Go.”

  

  

  

    “You dropped your phone.”

  

  

  

    I stepped closer and placed it on the small table beside him.

  

  

  

    That should’ve been it.

  

  

  

    But as I turned to go, his voice broke the air again.

  

  

  

    “You always stare at me like you have something to say.”

  

  

  

    I froze.

  

  

  

    My pulse kicked hard in my throat.

  

  

  

    He looked up now—his eyes shadowed but sharp, a storm under all that exhaustion.

  

  

  

    “Why don’t you say it?” he asked.

  

  

  

    I turned slowly. “I… I don’t know what you mean.”

  

  

  

    “You do.” He leaned forward. “Every time I walk past, your eyes follow. Like you want something.”

  

  

  

    “I don’t.”

  

  

  

    “Liar.”

  

  

  

    The word hung in the air like a challenge.

  

  

  

    I swallowed hard. “You shouldn’t talk to me like this.”

  

  

  

    He stood.

  

  

  

    The movement was slow, deliberate, and heavy with something unspoken. He didn’t lunge. He didn’t reach for me. He just stepped into my space, towering above me like the shadow of the moon itself.

  

  

  

    “You shouldn’t be in my room,” he murmured.

  

  

  

    “I know.”

  

  

  

    “You should’ve dropped the phone and walked away.”

  

  

  

    “I know.”

  

  

  

    “Then why didn’t you?”

  

  

  

    I looked up at him, at the dark circles under his eyes, the tension in his jaw, the way his chest rose and fell like he was fighting some war inside his own ribs.

  

  

  

    “Because,” I whispered, “for once… I didn’t want to walk away , you’re clearly not fine and I need to help you “

  

  

  

    Silence.

  

  

  

    His gaze locked onto mine. My skin buzzed with something I didn’t know how to name. Not fear. Not really. Just heat. Want. Chaos. A longing to feel like more than invisible. Like something mattered.

  

  

  

    “Do you want me to leave?” I asked, heart trembling in my throat.

  

  

  

    He didn’t answer.

  

   He started walking towards me, and I stepped back as often as he stepped forward. 

  

  

   He still didn’t say anything 

  

  

    Instead, he reached for my face.

  

  

  

    Fingertips ghosted along my cheek, rough and unsure.

  

  

  

    I didn’t breathe.

  

  

  

    His hand slid into my hair, his eyes searching mine like he didn’t believe I was real. Then his lips brushed mine—barely. The kiss wasn’t soft. It was hesitant. Scared. Like he was waiting for me to vanish.

  

  

  

    But I didn’t.

  

  

  

    I leaned in.

  

  

  

    And everything broke.

  

  

   “Stop! Sir you’re drunk and you’re making a mistake “ I screamed beneath 

  

  

   “ I know what I’m doing” he said as he continued 

  

  

  

    The kiss deepened fast—too fast. Like something had snapped between us and couldn’t be held back anymore. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me close, and I clutched at his shirt, desperate to hold on to something before I melted completely.

  

  

  

    He tasted like wine and something darker—like need buried for too long.

  

  

  

    He pulled me closer, and I didn’t resist. My back met the wall, the bedpost, the edge of the dresser—he didn’t care where we landed. Just that we did. His hands found the hem of my dress, dragging it slowly upward until warm air kissed bare skin.

  

  

  

    “You don’t belong here,” he whispered against my throat.

  

  

  

    “I know.”

  

  

  

    “You’re human.”

  

  

  

    “I know.”

  

  

  

    “Then why does this feel…”

  

  

  

    He didn’t finish.

  

  

  

    He just kissed me again. Deeper. Harder. Until I forgot every rule, every warning, every fear.

  

  

  

    His hands were everywhere—tracing, gripping, trembling. Mine weren’t any better. I clung to him like he was the first thing I’d ever wanted.

  

  

  

    Clothes slipped away like fog.

  

  

  

    Fabric fell to the floor in soft surrender.

  

  

  

    The room became a blur—just breath, heat, heartbeat, and skin.

  

  

  

    And then he was above me.

  

  

  

    Between us, silence broke.

  

  

  

    But it didn’t fall.

  

  

  

    It bloomed.

  

  

  

    Our eyes locked.

  

  

  

    A moment.

  

  

  

    A question.

  

  

  

    A breath.

  

  

  

    And then—

  

  

  

    The world tipped.

  

  

  

    He moved like he was searching for salvation inside me. Every touch a confession. Every breath a prayer he’d never say out loud. And I gave in. Fully. Completely. Not just to his body, but to the way he looked at me—like I wasn’t supposed to matter, but I did anyway.

  

  

  

    I wrapped my legs around him, one hand buried in his hair, the other gripping the edge of the sheets like it could anchor me to the moment.

  

  

  

    His name slipped from my lips like a sin.

  

  

  

    And he kissed me harder.

  

  

  

    Faster.

  

  

  

    Deeper.

  

  

  

    Until we weren’t Alpha and maid.

  

  

  

    Until we weren’t wolf and human.

  

  

  

    Until we weren’t anything but this—raw, wrong, beautiful.

  

  

  

    When we collapsed, breathless, tangled in heat and silence, neither of us spoke.

  

  

  

    He turned his face away, breath shallow.

  

  

  

    And I… I just lay there.

  

  

  

    Heart breaking.

  

  

  

    Because I knew what morning would bring

  

  

   It might be the beginning of my end