Mag-log in
EMBER’S POV
I bought expensive red lingerie to save my marriage.
Christmas Eve. The one day of the year when miracles are supposed to happen. When love is supposed to triumph. When broken things are supposed to become whole again.
I clutched the shopping bags in my trembling hands. The lingerie cost half my savings, but I didn’t care. It was red lace and silk ribbon, promised to reignite the fiery passion of love and sex.
Red was Gale’s favorite color. His assistant mentioned it casually last week over coffee, and I could see the pity in her eyes when she looked at me. Everyone knew. The entire pack whispered about it behind my back.
“Poor Ember. Eight months and her husband still won’t touch her. What kind of omega can’t even satisfy her own mate?”
Gale had insisted I spend the day at the spa. “Relax, baby. Get your nails done. I need you perfect for tomorrow’s Christmas gala.”
The word baby had made my heart leap with pathetic hope. Maybe things would finally change. Maybe tonight he’d want me again.
I pulled into our driveway, my hands gripping the bags so tightly my knuckles turned white. Tonight had to work. It had to. The moment I opened the front door, I knew something was wrong.
The smell hit me immediately. Raw and musky and unmistakably sexual. My wolf Sapphire bristled, warning me to turn around and leave, but I kept walking like an idiot. Following the sounds that made my stomach twist.
Moaning. Laughter. Flesh slapping against flesh.
The sounds were coming from the living room. Our living room with the floor-to-ceiling windows and the white Italian leather couch Gale insisted we needed because “only the best for my wife.”
I rounded the corner and stopped breathing.
Gale was on his knees with his face buried between Logan Reeves’ legs. Logan, his so-called business partner who came over twice a week for “late-night strategy sessions.”
There was a younger man I’d never seen before bent over the couch arm while another stranger fucked him from behind. A full orgy. All men. All of them naked and sweating and laughing.
My brain couldn’t process what I was seeing. Gale always talked about how ‘disgusting’ homosexuality was, how unnatural it was, how pack traditions forbade such behavior. He’d shamed people for it publicly. And now he was here doing this.
But the shock of seeing him with men wasn’t even the worst part.
“God, Gale,” Logan groaned, his fingers tangled in my husband’s hair. “You’re incredible. No wonder you keep that frigid omega around for appearances.”
The younger man laughed breathlessly. “Does she even know her Alpha husband has never been interested in pussy?”
“Of course not,” Gale said, pulling back to wipe his mouth. His voice was casual, amused, like they were discussing the weather. “She’s too stupid to figure it out. Too desperate and pathetic to see what’s right in front of her face.”
Then he did something that made my world shatter completely. He mimicked my voice, high-pitched and whiny.
“Gale, please touch me. Gale, don’t you want me? Gale, what am I doing wrong?”
They all burst into cruel laughter that echoed off the walls.
My hands went numb. The shopping bags slipped from my fingers and hit the marble floor with a crash. Red lingerie spilled out across white tile like a pool of blood.
Four heads whipped toward me.
Gale’s face went pale, then red. “Ember, this isn’t what it looks like—”
I was already running. Down the hallway, through the front door, into my car. My hands shook so violently I could barely get the key in the ignition.
My phone started buzzing immediately. Text after text flooding in.
Gale: It’s not what it looked like.
Gale: Come back so we can talk.
Gale: You’re being dramatic.
Then the threats started.
Gale: If you tell anyone what you saw, I will destroy you. The treaty requires our marriage. You ruin me, you ruin both packs. Think about that, Ember.
Tears blurred my vision as I drove. I didn’t know where I was going until I saw the airport sign and turned in automatically. I needed to get away. Needed to go home to Alaska, to my family house. I’d file for divorce the moment I landed. I couldn’t stay married to him. I couldn’t.
I made it to the airport in shock, my body moving on autopilot while my brain tried to process what I’d seen. At the ticket counter, I pulled out my credit card with shaking hands.
“Next available first-class ticket to Alaska,” I told the woman, my voice barely above a whisper.
She processed the payment quickly. It took almost all the money I could access from my personal account, but I didn’t care. I just needed to get home.
My phone kept buzzing. I looked down at the screen and saw message after message flooding in. Gale’s texts had shifted from apologetic to threatening to manipulative.
Gale: Please, baby, let me explain.
Gale: You’re overreacting. It was just stress relief.
Gale: If you leave me, you’ll have nothing. NOTHING.
Gale: Your parents will disown you for breaking the treaty.
Gale: Come home right now or I’ll make sure every pack knows what a failure you are.
I blocked his number with trembling fingers and shoved the phone deep into my purse.
I made it onto the plane somehow and found my seat. The numbness started wearing off, replaced by a pain so intense I couldn’t breathe.
Eight years I’d given him. Two years of dating where he’d courted me to convince his father I was the right choice—submissive, obedient, from a good family. The perfect arranged match.
Six years of marriage where I’d tried everything to please him, to be the perfect omega wife, to make him want me. And it was all a lie.
Good. Maybe now you’ll stop defending the bastard who hits you, Sapphire snarled with venom.
My wolf had hated him from the start. But I’d loved him. Or thought I did.
I was the useless omega who couldn’t even keep her husband interested. The failure who drove her mate into the arms of other men. No, not even that. He’d never wanted me at all.
I stumbled to the bathroom and locked myself inside. The sobs came from somewhere deep in my chest, ugly and raw and unstoppable. I pressed my hands over my mouth, trying to stay quiet, but the grief was too big to contain.
I’d spent months questioning everything about myself. Was I too much or not enough?
And when I pushed too hard for answers, for affection, for anything, his hands became fists. The bruises always hidden where no one could see.
All those business trips. All those late nights at the office. All those times he said he was too tired or too stressed. He’d been with them. With those men. Laughing at how pathetic I was for believing his lies.
Someone knocked on the door hard enough to rattle it.
“Occupied!” I choked out.
The knocking continued, louder and more insistent.
“I said it’s occupied! Go away!”
The door opened anyway.
“You do realize this is the men’s room, right?”
The voice was deep and rough, vibrating through the tiny space and cutting through my spiral of misery. I looked up through tear-blurred eyes and froze.
He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.
Tall enough that he had to duck slightly through the doorway, with broad shoulders that filled the entire frame. Dark hair that looked like he’d been running his hands through it, a sharp jawline, and eyes so blue they looked almost unnatural.
There was something dangerous about him, something predatory that made my wolf sit up and take notice despite my broken state.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—” I tried to squeeze past him, but the bathroom was too small and he was too big and suddenly we were close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
He caught my arm gently but firmly, stopping me completely. The touch sent a shock of electricity racing up my skin that made me gasp.
“Why are you crying?” His voice had gone cold and commanding in a way that made something low in my stomach tighten.
I couldn’t speak. His blue eyes bored into mine like he could see straight through to my soul, and there was heat in that gaze that made my breath catch.
I knew this man from somewhere. I’d seen his face before, maybe in pack newsletters or territory reports, but I couldn’t place it through the fog of grief.
His scent felt like a drug. Pine and winter and something wild that made my head spin.
“It’s none of your business,” I whispered, trying to pull my arm free. “Please just let me go.”
His grip tightened slightly, possessive in a way that should have scared me but didn’t.
“I think it is my business. I don’t like seeing a beautiful woman cry.”
Beautiful. The word hit me with surprise. When was the last time anyone called me beautiful? When was the last time someone looked at me like I was worth something instead of a disappointing burden?
Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them.
“You want to know why I’m crying? Fine!” The words came out bitter and sharp. “I just caught my husband in a full orgy with his business partners. In our living room. On our couch. He was on his knees servicing another man while they all laughed about how stupid and desperate I am.”
His expression darkened immediately. Something feral and violent flashed in those ice-blue eyes, there and gone so fast I almost missed it. Then his gaze turned molten, heated in a way that made my skin flush despite everything.
“Your husband is a fool,” he said, his voice dropping lower and rougher. The sound of it sent shivers racing down my spine. “What kind of man would have you and choose anyone else?”
The words were so unexpected, so genuine, that something inside me warmed. This stranger was looking at me with more desire and appreciation than my own husband had shown me in months of marriage. More than Gale had shown me in years, if I was being honest with myself.
My voice broke as I spoke.
“I tried so hard to be what he wanted.” I looked away, unable to meet his gaze as I admitted this to a stranger. “And the whole time, he was just... laughing at me.”
His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking there. “There’s nothing wrong with you. The problem is him.”
“You don’t know that,” I murmured.
“I know enough from where I’m standing.” He stepped closer, crowding me back against the small sink. His hand came up to cup my face, thumb brushing away my tears with surprising gentleness. “You’re trembling.”
“I’m angry,” I whispered, but it came out breathless because his touch was doing things to me that I didn’t understand. I swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to do with all of it.”
“What do you want to do?”
What did I want? I wanted to stop feeling worthless. I wanted to stop being the pathetic omega everyone pitied. I wanted to feel desired instead of discarded. I wanted someone to look at me like this stranger was looking at me right now, like I was something precious and wanted and worth having.
I was so tired of being good. Of following all the rules while everyone else broke them. Of trying to be the perfect wife while my husband made a fool of me. If Gale could have his fun, why couldn’t I?
“If you really want to be a gentleman right now and save the damsel in distress...” I paused, watching his eyes darken further, pupils blowing wide. “Then you should bend me over right here and fuck me against this wall.”
His pupils went completely black. A low, rough sound rumbled from his chest—something between a growl and a groan that made my thighs clench.
Yes, I just asked him to fuck me.
EMBER'S POVFor a long moment, neither of us moves. He's still buried inside me, softening but making no move to withdraw, and I can feel his heart slamming against mine through our chests."Fuck," he breathes finally."Yeah," I agree."We should probably get back.""Probably."Neither of us moves."Queenie is going to be insufferable," I say."Queenie can go fuck herself."I laugh, a real laugh, surprised out of me by his grumpiness. He pulls back to look at my face, and something soft crosses his expression."You're beautiful when you laugh," he says quietly.The words hit somewhere soft and unguarded."Knox...""I mean it." His thumb traces my cheekbone. "Tonight was... I liked seeing you like that. Free. Happy. Not carrying the weight of everything.""It felt good," I admit. "Dancing without worrying. Doing things I've never done before. Being someone I've nev
EMBER'S POVThe thought should scandalize me. Should make me pull away, find somewhere private, behave like the proper omega I was raised to be.Instead, it makes me burn."I don't care," I gasp. "I just need you. Need—"He pulls his hand away.I actually whine at the loss, the sound embarrassingly desperate."Bathroom," he says, and it's not a question. "Now."He grabs my hand and starts pulling me through the crowd. I stumble after him, my legs shaky, my body screaming for release that keeps getting denied.The club is a maze of bodies and lights and I have no idea where we're going, but Knox navigates like he's done this a thousand times before. Maybe he has. I don't care. I just care about getting somewhere private so he can finish what he started.We burst through a door marked PRIVATE—probably VIP bathrooms, because of course—and then I'm against the wall, his mouth crushing mine, his hands shoving my dress up around my waist."Been thinking about this all night," he growls bet
EMBER'S POVI turn my back to the VIP section, let my hips sway in slow, sensual circles. Let my hands trail down my own body—over my breasts, my stomach, my thighs. Let my head fall back like I'm lost in the music, in the pleasure of my own movement.When I glance over my shoulder, his jaw is tight and his knuckles are white around his glass.Good."Oh my god," Queenie cackles. "You're trying to kill him.""I'm just dancing.""You're performing a mating call and you know it."Maybe I am. Maybe I want him to want me so badly he can't stand it. Maybe I want to drive him crazy the way he's been driving me crazy since this whole thing started.The song changes to something heavier, dirtier. The crowd responds with increased intensity—bodies pressing closer, movements becoming more explicit. Near us, a couple has given up any pretense of dancing and is straight up dry-humping against a speak
EMBER'S POVThe club is called Naughty or Nice.The club is called Naughty or Nice.And based on what I'm seeing through the entrance, "nice" was never really an option.The venue has been transformed into some kind of Christmas fever dream designed by someone with a very, very dirty imagination. Red and white lights pulse through artificial snow that falls from the ceiling, catching the strobe lights and making everything sparkle. Giant candy canes frame the VIP sections, wrapped in red rope. The bar is staffed by men dressed as—I'm not making this up—sexy Christmas elves, complete with pointed ears, tiny green shorts, and abs that could grate cheese.And that's just the entrance."Holy shit," I breathe."Told you," Queenie grabs my arm, practically vibrating with excitement. "One Night Only is legendary. They go all out."All out is an understatement.The dance floor is packed with bodies mo
EMBER'S POV I hate how close I am to him—close enough to taste his breath, close enough to count his eyelashes—yet how far away he seems. How far away we'd always be.I want to scream in his face that I don't care if he destroys me alongside himself. That I'd rather be infected with whatever madness runs in his veins than not have him at all. But I also know how close that comes to losing myself to another man—right after Gale. Right after escaping the curse of loving the wrong person.So despite the rupturing of my heart and my lungs and the very thing that attaches me to my soul, I drag in a deep breath, choking back my sob."Do you at least care about me?""Fuck, of course I do." His voice cracks on the words. "I care so much about you, baby. I care so much that I might have committed treason in that court today if they'd moved forward with dragging you back to Gale."I swallow—failing to reconcile how he could say that and not want more than just thirty days."Please let's not f
EMBER'S POVWe return to the penthouse in a daze.The space feels different now. Lighter, maybe.Like the weight of everything that's been pressing down on us has lifted slightly, leaving room for something that might be hope.Knox disappears into the bedroom to change, and I drift to the window, looking out at the mountain vista that's become so familiar over the past few days.We have one day left, or is it two? What does the new 30-days probation mean for us? For me.The snow is falling gently, coating everything in white, making the world look clean and fresh and full of possibility.I'm free.The words still don't feel real.I'm free and Gale is in custody and my mother's schemes have collapsed and the council has cleared Knox's name and—And none of it matters if I can't figure out what happens next."Hey."Knox's voice pulls me back. He's changed into something casual—dark jeans, a henley that stretches across his shoulders in ways that are probably illegal—and he's looking at







