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Chapter 2: The Morning After

I didn't sleep.

How could I? Every time I closed my eyes, I felt the phantom weight of Alpha Kaelen’s body pressing me into the floor. I felt the rough calluses of his thumbs tracing my jawline. I smelled the sandalwood and storm that clung to my skin like a brand.

He wanted me.

For ten glorious, terrifying seconds, the Alpha of the Blackwood Pack had wanted the "useless" twin.

But the memory of his rejection was even sharper. Get out before I kill you.

I scrubbed the grand staircase until my fingers felt raw, trying to wash the memory away. It was morning now. The pack house was waking up. The smell of bacon and rich coffee wafted from the kitchen, a luxury I wasn't allowed to taste.

"You missed a spot," a voice sneered.

I didn't need to look up to know it was Seraphina. She descended the stairs like a queen, wearing a white sundress that made her look innocent, angelic. The lie suited her perfectly.

She stopped on the step above me, looming over my hunched form.

"He slept," she said, her voice low and smug. "For the first time in months, Kaelen slept through the night. No screaming. No fever."

She nudged my shoulder with her expensive sandal. "It seems you are good for something after all, Elara. You’re like a… living sedative. A pacifier for the beast."

"I’m not a tool, Seraphina," I whispered, dipping my rag into the bucket. "He hates me. He threw a vase at my head."

"He hates that he needs you," she corrected, leaning down so her lips brushed my ear. "There’s a difference. And that makes you dangerous. If he figures out why you calm him, if he realizes the Scent Cloak is the only reason he thinks I’m his mate… well, we both know what happens."

She grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking my head back. "I will tell the Council you used blood magic to seduce him. You’ll be executed before you can say 'fated mate.'"

She released me with a shove. "Now, get up. You’re serving breakfast today. The regular maid is sick."

"No," I gasped. "I can't be near him."

"You will," she commanded, her eyes flashing. "He’s calm now. I need to reinforce the bond while he’s lucid. And I need you there to pour the coffee and remind yourself of your place."

The dining room was flooded with sunlight, but the air inside was freezing.

Kaelen sat at the head of the long mahogany table. He looked better than he had last night—the dark circles under his eyes had faded slightly, and his skin wasn't gray with sickness anymore. But the tension in his shoulders was still there.

He was reading a report, ignoring the plate of food in front of him.

I walked in, balancing the silver coffee pot with trembling hands. I tried to make myself invisible. I am furniture, I told myself. I am a ghost.

"Kaelen, darling," Seraphina cooed, sliding into the seat to his right. She reached out and placed her hand on his forearm.

Kaelen flinched.

It was subtle—a micro-movement—but I saw it. His muscles tightened beneath her touch, not in pleasure, but in rejection. His wolf knew her touch was wrong.

"You slept well?" Seraphina asked, oblivious or ignoring it.

"Better," Kaelen grunted, not looking up. "The fever broke around midnight."

"I’m so glad," she purred. "I was so worried about you."

I stepped forward to pour Kaelen’s coffee. I held my breath, praying my scent wouldn't betray me.

As I leaned over his shoulder, the steam from the coffee swirled with my own scent—faint, masked by the bleach on my clothes, but still there.

Kaelen froze.

He stopped reading. His nostrils flared.

Slowly, terrifyingly, he turned his head.

His gray eyes locked onto mine. There was no confusion this time. Only cold, hard calculation. And beneath the ice… a simmering, angry heat.

"You," he said. The word was a heavy stone dropped into the silence.

"Good morning, Alpha," I whispered, staring at his collarbone.

"Look at me when you speak to me," he commanded.

I forced my gaze up. His eyes were searching my face, dissecting me. He was looking for the witch who had "bewitched" him last night. He was looking for the monster. But all he saw was me—Elara, with the messy bun and the stained apron.

"Why are you serving?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Martha is ill, sir."

"Martha is ill," he repeated. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze dropping to my lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back to my eyes. "And tell me, Elara… do you possess any special skills? Aside from scrubbing floors?"

My heart hammered. "I don't understand."

"Healing?" he pressed, his voice lowering. "Hypnosis? Dark arts?"

"Kaelen!" Seraphina laughed nervously. "Don't be silly. Elara barely finished high school. She doesn't have the spark for magic. She’s wolfless, remember?"

Kaelen didn't look at his wife. He kept his eyes pinned on me.

"She is not wolfless," Kaelen murmured. "I felt it."

The room went dead silent. Seraphina went pale.

"Last night," Kaelen continued, standing up slowly. He towered over me, his massive frame blocking out the sun. "When she touched me… my wolf didn't want to kill her. My wolf wanted to claim her."

He took a step toward me. I took a step back, hitting the sideboard.

"Explain that, Elara," he growled. He trapped me, placing his hands on the sideboard on either side of my waist. The proximity was dizzying. The heat radiating off him was making my knees weak. "Why does my wolf want the maid, while he ignores the Luna?"

"Maybe… maybe you’re just sick, Kaelen," Seraphina interjected, her voice high and shrill. She stood up, grabbing his arm. "The doctor said the virus confuses your senses! It makes you crave… strange things. Dirt. Raw meat. Low-level wolves."

Kaelen closed his eyes, a muscle feathering in his jaw. Dirt. Raw meat. Low-level wolves. That’s what I was to them.

He exhaled a shuddering breath, trying to force his instincts down. He pulled away from me, disgusted with himself.

"You’re right," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "It’s the sickness. It has to be."

He turned to Seraphina, trying to prove a point to himself. "I’m sorry, Seraphina. I haven't been… attentive."

He grabbed Seraphina’s face and kissed her.

I squeezed my eyes shut, turning my head away. I couldn't watch. My mate, kissing my sister. It felt like a physical blow to the stomach.

But then, I heard a growl. A frustrated growl.

I opened my eyes.

Kaelen had pulled back. He was looking at Seraphina with a look of utter confusion and mild revulsion. He wiped his mouth, as if the taste was wrong.

"I can't," he choked out. "Not yet. The headache… it’s coming back."

He spun around, his eyes landing on me again. The relief in his gaze when he looked at me was undeniable. The headache wasn't coming back—it was leaving because I was close.

He stared at me, warring with himself. Logic told him to fire me. Instinct told him to keep me closer than his own skin.

"Seraphina," Kaelen said, his voice steel. "Move Elara’s things."

"What?" Seraphina asked, blinking. "Move them where? To the guest quarters?"

"No," Kaelen said darkly. He stepped closer to me, his gaze dropping to my pulse, watching it flutter. "Move her into the Antechamber. The one connected to my bedroom."

"Kaelen!" Seraphina shrieked. "That room is for the Alpha’s personal guard! You can't put her there!"

"I don't trust her," Kaelen lied smoothly, though his eyes burned with a different kind of intent. "I think she’s using something to manipulate my health. I want her where I can see her. Where I can watch her every move."

He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear, sending shivers violently down my spine.

"Pack your bags, Elara," he whispered, his voice dripping with a dark, dangerous promise. "You’re not the maid anymore. You’re mine to study. And if I find out you’re playing games with me… I’ll break you."

He pulled back, his eyes flashing with a possessive hunger that had nothing to do with punishment.

"Be in my room by sunset," he commanded. "And wear something easier to take off."