4: The Wolf’s Den Smells Like My Ruin

Zolani’s POV

“Home sweet home!” Aradia bellowed, kicking the massive oak doors open with one fur-booted foot like she was storming a castle instead of walking into her own house.

She dragged me over the threshold by my wrist, and the second I crossed it, every nerve in my body lit up like I’d grabbed a live wire.

Holy. Fucking. Hell.

The foyer alone was bigger than my entire apartment building. Black marble floors shot through with silver veins, a chandelier the size of a car made of actual antlers and a million flickering crystals, twin staircases curving up like the jaws of some ancient beast. The air was thick, old money, roaring fire, pine, leather, and that dark, spiced Alpha scent that lived between my legs. It hit me so hard my knees nearly buckled and I wonder why I could smell him so badly.

Aradia spun in a circle, arms wide. “Behold, Blackthorne Lodge, where the Wi-Fi is fast and the dick is faster!”

I snorted despite myself. “Classy.”

“Classy is for humans,” she shot back, winking. “We’re animals, baby.”

I’d known Aradia since freshman year, two opposites shoved together by the housing office. She was chaos in human form, zero filter, zero shame, grew up with wolves who fucked on the lawn if the moon was right. Me? Raised by a Catholic mom who still crossed herself when I said “damn” and a fiancé whose idea of dirty talk was “Can I hold your hand during this kiss?” Aradia said whatever popped into her head, I swallowed it until it poisoned me. She was free. I was… polite.

Yet here we were, best friends, because apparently the universe has a sense of humor.

She yanked me deeper into the house, boots echoing, voices bouncing off thirty-foot ceilings.

“Quick tour before Dad smells fresh meat and comes hunting,” Aradia announced with a feral grin, yanking me deeper into the lodge like a kid dragging her favorite toy through a candy store. “Kidding. Mostly.”

I laughed, but it came out breathy and half-hysterical because every inch of this place screamed ancient, untamed power.

Aradia didn’t walk, she prowled, boots thudding, hips swaying like she owned gravity. I trailed after her, suitcase abandoned to some terrified staff member, trying to keep up with the whirlwind that was my best friend.

We passed a sitting room with a fireplace big enough to roast an entire elk and probably had walls lined with oil paintings of snarling wolves in gilded frames, their eyes following me like they knew exactly how wet I was. A bar carved from a single slab of obsidian looked like it belonged on a pirate ship captained by Lucifer himself. Every surface screamed generational wealth and primal power. I felt tiny, breakable, and way too human.

Aradia kept up a running, filthy commentary that had me choking on laughter and blushing at the same time.

“Library, three floors, first editions older than your country, and a secret ladder that leads to the best reading nook for when you want to finger yourself in peace.”

“Formal dining hall, seats eighty, perfect for pack feasts. Last full moon we had a food fight that ended with three matings and one broken table. Good times.”

“Ballroom, yes, we still have balls, shut up. Kyle and Alex fucked me against the grand piano last year. Still find glitter in weird places.”

I slapped a hand over my mouth. “Aradia!”

“What? It’s acoustically perfect for screaming.”

I was dying. I loved her so much it hurt.

We rounded another corner and almost collided with a pack of her cousins, four guys and two girls, all tall, built like athletes on steroids, eyes glowing faint gold with excitement. They lit up when they saw me.

“Zee!” one of the girls, Lena, I think, squealed, pulling me into a hug that crushed my ribs. “Finally! Aradia said you were bringing virgin energy to balance out our chaos.”

Another cousin, a guy with a man-bun and a grin sharp enough to cut glass, leaned in and inhaled dramatically. “Fuck, she smells good. Jack’s gonna lose his shit.”

Aradia barked a laugh. “Speaking of... Jack’s been whining about you for months, Zee. Full-on puppy eyes. He’s sweet, hung like a racehorse, and has the softest tongue on the continent. You should let him eat you out. No penetration, promise. Just a friendly welcome lick.”

I choked on air. “I have a fiancé!”

“Yeah, the boring one,” she stage-whispered. “Come on, live a little. Jack’s knot isn’t even that scary. Yet.”

The cousins howled with laughter. One of them, Jack, apparently appeared from nowhere, tall, blond, dimples for days, looking at me like I was dessert. He opened his mouth to say something no doubt filthy.

Aradia snapped her fingers. “Down, boy. She’s off-limits until I say otherwise.”

Jack pouted, but his eyes stayed on me, pupils blown wide. “Just one taste?”

“Dream on, cousin.”

I was red from hairline to toes, but I couldn’t stop laughing. Werewolves were insane. Beautiful, terrifying, zero boundaries, and I was obsessed with every second of it.

We kept moving. Aradia dragged me past a room stacked floor-to-ceiling with wedding gifts, crates of crystal, furs, jewelry that probably cost more than small countries. She pointed to a massive box wrapped in midnight-blue paper.

“That’s from Kyle,” she said, eyes softening for half a second. “My fated mate. And the gold one over there is Alex, my chosen. They’re both ridiculous.”

I still couldn’t wrap my head around it. Aradia getting married to two men, one fated by the moon, one chosen by her heart. Werewolf polyamory was wild, but the way her face lit up when she talked about them made my chest ache with something soft and envious.

We climbed another staircase because apparently this place had more levels than hell and Aradia’s phone buzzed like an angry hornet. She glanced at it and cursed colorfully.

“Shit. Wedding planner emergency. Something about ice swans melting or whatever the fuck.” She shoved me toward the hallway. “Your room’s the big one at the end, your stuff is there, it's corner suite, east tower, killer view. Unpack, shower, rub one out if you need to... the water pressure’s insane, perfect for clit torture. I’ll be back in ten!”

She blurred away, like literal werewolf speed before I could even ask which door was mine.

The corridor swallowed me whole, silence pressing in. Antique rugs muffled my footsteps. Portraits of Alphas glared down, stern and severe, like they’d been waiting centuries just to witness a girl like me lose her mind. The air up here was thicker, almost sticky with heat, laced with that dark, spiced scent and every breath felt like a dare.

I started opening doors and checking which one had my stuff.

Guest room.

Another guest room.

A third, thick with the ghost of old sex and fresh pine and a closet bigger than my entire apartment.

Then, at the last door, it opened smoothly and for one wild second I thought maybe, finally, I’d found my room but the first thing I saw when I took some steps in was blood.

Fresh and bright, a fat drop sliding off the tip of a silver dagger, splattering across the pale Persian rug at my feet. My heart stuttered. I looked up and saw...

Cassian Blackthorne stood in the center of the room, shirtless, blood smeared in brutal streaks across his chest, black trousers slung low on his hips, every muscle cut with lethal intent. The dagger gleamed in his fist, still dripping, and his eyes,,God, his eyes flared blood-red as he looked at me.

A low, guttural growl rumbled from him, vibrating through the floor, right up my spine. I barely had time to squeak as the door swung shut behind me, and I froze, trapped, pulse tripping over itself.

The most powerful Alpha on the continent stood covered in someone else’s blood, staring at me like I was the only thing left in the world worth killing...or ruining.

His gaze dragged down my body, slow and merciless and they looked hungry, calculating and dangerous.

And as his lips curled into something wild and dangerous, I realized Cassian Blackthorne hadn’t decided whether I was prey, trespasser, or something even darker and for one terrifying heartbeat, neither could I.

Wait… was he going to ruin me? Or finish me? Or both?

What if this wasn’t Cassian the Alpha… but Cassian gone feral, the kind of wolf who didn’t stop once he tasted blood or once he chose a throat or a body to claim?

A shiver rolled through me as one truth settled deep… since stepping foot in this country, I hadn’t been walking toward my best friend's wedding.

I’d been walking straight into my own ruin.