Chapter 2

Freya

Yes, it was true: for two years, Ezren Virel and I had been secretly married.

But we didn’t love each other. Far from it, in fact; I thought he was a good-for-nothing philanderer, and he never liked being tied down to one woman for too long.

Two years ago, after a drunken one-night stand that was fueled by his wolf’s frustration and my heartbreak, Ezren approached me with a proposal: marry him in secret, share… conjugal visits during the full moon to help his wolf calm down, and in return he would provide me with the financial means to run my pack.

“Freya.” Ezren’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “Let me help you.”

“No,” I said curtly, brushing past him. I wiped away my tears with a tissue, and in a moment, I was once again the cold, hard Alpha—not the scared girl who cried. “Whatever you want in return, I won’t give it to you.”

After all, if there was one thing I knew about Ezren Virel, it was that he never made a deal without expecting something in return. And if he wanted to help me with something this big, then what would he want from me?

“I wouldn’t ask you to give me too much in return,” Ezren said, following me into the parlor where I had knelt down to light the fire. I tossed two logs into the fireplace and lit it with ease, and when I looked up, his hand was extended.

I took it and let him pull me to my feet, and the scent of his woodsy cologne wrapped around me. He raised his hand to brush a strand of hair out of my eyes.

I rolled my eyes and swatted his hand away, but he just caught my wrist and glanced at the mark on my neck—the mating mark from Kael, the small crescent-shaped scar that marked me as his. It was usually hidden beneath layers of makeup, but it had gotten smudged earlier from my tears.

“Two years,” he said, his gray eyes still fixed on my neck, “and you’re still marked to him.”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” Ezren released me, and I watched as he casually walked over to my sofa and flopped down, his muscular arms draped across the back. “I just think it’s curious, that’s all. Could raise some eyebrows if news of our… partnership gets out.”

I sighed and touched the mark on my neck as I sat down beside Ezren. It was still warm and faintly thrumming with a heartbeat that wasn’t my own—Kael’s heartbeat. I had rejected Kael as my mate, but he hadn’t accepted it.

So while Kael no longer bore my mark and could no longer feel my pulse through the bond, I could still feel his. It wasn’t as if I had asked for this.

I winced suddenly and quickly pulled my hand away as the pulse jolted, spet up.

Ezren tilted his head. “I take it your Alpha is having a bit of fun right now. Full moon and all.”

“Shut up.” I grabbed the lapels of his jacket and swung my leg over, straddling him on the couch. Ezren smirked slightly as I pushed him against the back of the sofa. “I’m tired of talking about the past. I know why you’re really here, and it has nothing to do with emotional support, so let’s get it over with.”

“Gladly,” Ezren rumbled, and then his mouth was on mine just like it had been so many times before. His hands moved up my back, my fingers tangled in his hair, and together, we fell into our monthly routine.

We moved together through our familiar dance; as I worked at the buttons on his shirt, he pulled my blouse over my head to reveal my lacy bra. He smirked, brushing his thumb across the little bulge of breast that spilled out over the top of the fabric, but didn’t comment on the fact that I had put on something special, knowing that we’d likely see each other tonight.

After removing his own shirt, revealing chiseled muscles that looked like something out of a painting—tan and rugged, dotted with scars of past full moon shifts that he couldn’t remember—he laid me down on the sofa and moved on top of me, brushing his lips across my jaw, down my neck, then over my collar bone.

His tongue darted out to taste the hollow of my throat, and I gasped, my fingers threading through his hair to hold him there. He unhooked my bra with one motion, pulling it away and immediately replacing the fabric with his mouth.

The wet heat of his tongue circling my nipple sent a jolt straight between my thighs, making me squirm beneath him. But he took his time, lavishing attention on each breast, alternating between soft licks and gentle bites that had me writhing, my hips bucking upward.

All the while I could feel him, hard against my thigh, as he ground himself against me. The friction was maddening, and as I felt him grow and harden even further against me, I knew he was just as desperate as I was. Probably more desperate, given the way his eyes began to glow and his movements became more rushed and frantic as the moon slipped out from behind a cloud and streamed through the window, illuminating the floorboards.

Finally, he slipped my skirt up then around my hips, too desperate to even remove it completely, and I heard the jangle of a belt buckle and the sound of a zipper. A moment later, the warm, hard tip of his member slipped into me, filling me just right. I cried out as he entered me.

Ezren always knew exactly where to circle his thumb, exactly how deep to pump, where to kiss my neck. I knew that he liked having his earlobe nibbled. And he especially liked it when I raked my nails down his back, deep enough to leave raised scratch marks along his skin.

Our bodies danced together in that familiar way, and for those minutes, the world outside the house became insignificant. Eventually, I found myself propped up in his lap, bouncing on him, head thrown back in ecstasy.

When we finally reached our peak together, his eyes continued to glow that ethereal silver until they rolled back. And with three guttural groans in time with his halting thrusts, he spilled into me. My muscles twitched and spasmed as I followed him over the edge.

And when we collapsed into a sweaty, breathless heap right there on the sofa, the glow in his eyes slowly faded until it was gone altogether.

The following morning, I woke in my bed, vaguely recalling Ezren and I stumbling up to my room last night before falling asleep—“Too late to drive home,” he had said. I sat up on my elbows, finding him standing by the full-length mirror, already dressed.

“Sleep well?” he asked, glancing at me in the reflection as he combed his hair.

I shrugged and sat up fully, clutching the sheets to my bare chest. This was usually the part where he left, and I didn’t see him again in private for a month, and my shame ate me alive for the next week. And today was no different, except for one thing.

“Well,” he said, looking at his watch, “I should go if I’m to get ready in time. I’ll see you at the Alpha Ball tonight, Miss Archrival.”