He came back to her. He stood over her, and the pulse in her throat went wild. He did not touch her yet. He let the anticipation climb up her spine like heat climbing a chimney. When he finally bent, she could smell rain on his skin. His palm found the back of her neck. He held it there and waited. She let a sound out that was almost a plea, almost a curse. He answered with a low hum that vibrated through his chest.“Look at yourself,” he said.She looked. The woman in the glass had parted lips and eyes that did not know how to lie. He did not cover her with praise. He did not name her beauty. He named only what he wanted.“Stay still,” he said.He guided her through a slow, relentless study. He told her where to place her knees. He told her how to angle her shoulders. He told her where to rest her eyes. The instructions were spare and clear. When she moved as he asked, he rewarded her with touch. The touch was not frantic. It was precise. It tunneled straight into her and left her sh
The envelope on the floor looked ordinary. Plain paper. No name. No return address. Ava set down her grocery bag and stared at it as if it might start breathing. She already knew what was inside. Her fingers were not steady when she slid a nail under the flap. A single hotel key slid into her palm, cool as a coin that had slept at the bottom of a fountain.She told herself not to go. She told herself to pour a bath. She told herself to put the key in a drawer and forget that her body had learned a new language two weeks ago and had not stopped repeating it since. Her apartment felt too bright. The air tasted stale. She lay on the couch and tried to read. Every sentence broke apart. Every page felt like a room where someone had just stepped out.By eleven she was in a cab. She did not look at the driver. She watched the city roll by under a wet sheen. The hotel rose ahead like a promise that refused to explain itself. She paid, touched the key in her pocket, and crossed the lobby with
The rain started before she left the apartment, warm and heavy, drenching the city in a feverish haze. Ava did not take an umbrella. The water clung to her hair and slid beneath her collar. Her phone was in her hand the entire time, the single text glowing on the screen. Room 914. Bring nothing but yourself.Lucien had sent it without a greeting. No explanation, no time for her to think. The message had come at ten thirty on a Thursday night, when she had been sitting barefoot in her living room with a glass of wine. For two weeks she had thought of him only in flashes. The night at the gallery, the way his gaze had cut through the crowd until it landed on her. The slight curl of his mouth that had felt like a private invitation. They had spoken for less than five minutes, yet she had gone home replaying his voice until she could barely sleep.Now she was in the elevator of the Grand Lillian Hotel, the polished steel walls reflecting her from every side. She had chosen a black slip dr
The den was quiet that night. The fire in the main hall had burned low, leaving long shadows along the walls. Tamsin sat alone in her small room, staring at the mark in the reflection of the polished metal dish. It looked faint, but she could feel it — hot, steady, alive.Footsteps came before she could decide whether to ignore them. Three scents reached her first — smoke, frost, spice. Her wolf lifted its head, alert.Theron entered without knocking. Maddoc followed, then Vale. They closed the door behind them. The space felt smaller, tighter, as if the walls leaned in.“You’ve been keeping to yourself,” Theron said, his voice calm but edged.“I needed space,” she replied.Maddoc leaned against the wall near the door. “Space is a luxury we don’t give mates when the bond is still fresh.”Vale stepped forward, his pale eyes fixed on hers. “A bond grows stronger when it is fed. We have let it starve for too many days.”Tamsin’s pulse picked up. “You mean you’ve left me alone.”“We’ve le
The moon sat high and heavy above the pines when Tamsin reached the main den hall. Wolves milled in the shadows, their voices low, their eyes flicking toward her mark and then away. No one blocked her path, but their presence pressed against her like a weight she could feel in her bones.Theron stood near the fire pit, bare-armed now, the muscle in his shoulders catching the firelight. Maddoc lounged on a carved bench as if the whole hall existed to keep him comfortable. Vale leaned against the far pillar, silver hair shining like frost under the moon’s glow from the skylight.“You came,” Theron said, his voice steady but deep enough to make her skin prickle.“You told me to,” she replied.“No,” Vale said, stepping closer. “We called you. The mark answered.”Tamsin’s pulse betrayed her by quickening. She forced her voice calm. “And if I ignored it?”Maddoc’s smile curved, slow and knowing. “It would have pulled harder. And you would have hated how much you wanted to give in.”Theron g
Maddoc stepped behind her, close but not touching. “We will give you water. We will give you food. We will give you the chance to breathe before we test how hot your blood runs.”Her knees wanted to soften. Rage held them straight. “I say yes,” she said. “For my pack. For peace.”Theron’s eyes darkened. “Consent?”“Yes.”“Color,” Vale said, and the word came strange and right. “Green, yellow, or red.”“Green,” she said. She did not know where the word had come from in her mouth. It fit like a secret.“Then look at me,” Theron said.She did. Maddoc moved her hair to one side with a touch that felt like he had been waiting weeks to do it. Vale’s fingers traced the air above her skin, mapping a place at the base of her neck where the mark would sit and say mine without shouting.“Breathe,” Theron said. “In. Hold. Out.”She matched him. The world steadied.“Now,” he said softly, and lowered his head.The first touch of teeth was not pain. It was a heat that went straight to the place her