Chapter 4

(Alpha Michael POV)

The moment the blood of Samara touched my lips, I knew I was doomed.

The warm, metallic taste spread across my tongue, and a surge of strength suddenly coursed through my veins. It was instant, more powerful than anything Scarlet's potions or spells had ever managed. My Lycan, the beast I kept caged within me, growled in satisfaction as if her blood was the very elixir it had been craving.

But it was far more than that, more even than just survival. The second my lips brushed her skin, even under the pretense of necessity, something animalistic snapped inside me. I wanted more than just of her blood but of her.

I looked away, my tongue rasping against the inside of my lips as if it would scour away the ache. It wouldn't. The flavor lingered on, with the image of her keen eyes burning into mine in defiance, in hate.

She hated me and I couldn't blame her.

I closed my eyes, falling back in my chair, and my mind wandered to the first time I saw her.

She had come to the palace that day, a humble florist delivering flowers. The moment she stepped into the courtyard, everything else faded away. Her golden hair caught the sunlight, and her blue eyes sparkled like the sky after a storm. My breath caught, and for a moment, I was no longer the Supreme Alpha but just a man smitten by her presence.

And then, my Lycan had taken over.

I barely remembered what happened next. The beast within me surged forward, driven by an instinct I didn't understand. When I came to, I was told I had attacked her, bitten her. The sight of her blood on my hands was enough to make me sick, but the guilt was quickly overshadowed by something else: the need to see her again.

But then when I went to her bed to apologize, the pull was stronger. Her scent and her presence overwhelmed me. And when I kissed her, I lost control once more.

If we hadn't been interrupted, I would have taken her right there.

Even now, I couldn't deny that moment. Her lips against mine, her body yielding to my touch was intoxicating. The mere thought of it made my blood heat, and I clenched my fists, trying to suppress the urge.

But why? Why did she have this effect on me? I already had a mate.

Or so I thought.

Scarlet had let the cat out of the bag, but of course, she'd take the long route to do it.

"She's from the cursed lineage," she said, the dark of her eyes sparkling, even as she handed me a vial of one of her concoctions that had gone wrong. "The last of the Kendall line."

The cursed lineage. My mind raced, piecing together the fragments of old stories and half-forgotten legends. The Kendalls were a family of werewolves, cursed never to recognize their mates. They were anomalies, their very existence defying the natural order of our kind.

And yet, here I was, drawn to her like a moth to flame.

"It makes sense now, doesn't it?" Scarlet drawled on, her tone was even and knowledgeable. "Why do you feel the way you do? Why nothing else has worked." She waved towards the failed potions. "You can't stabilize your Lycan's energy with anything else because she is the source. The vessel."

The vessel.

I hated the word and despised the implication that Samara was nothing more than a tool for my survival. But I couldn't deny the truth. Her blood was the key, and I needed it to keep the beast within me at bay.

       *********************

In the aftermath of the failed negotiations, there was nothing left but to confine her to the palace.

She didn't come quietly, of course. Samara was as stubborn as she was fiery, and she fought me every step of the way. Sharp words still echoed in my head, cutting.

"Despicable," she had called me, her blue eyes ablaze with fury, "arrogant beast.”

I had expected fear, and subjugation. Instead, she stood before me, fearless and unyielding, flinging insults that infuriated and intrigued me.

Cursing me, and yet all that ran in my mind was how those lips would feel beneath mine again. How their fire spirit only further fueled my need for her. I wanted to shut her up, replace her biting words with moans of pleasure, and see her defiance melt into surrender as she screamed my name.

The thought itself was maddening.

But I couldn't. I had a mate.

Natalia.….

The sound of footsteps pulled me from my musing, and I looked up just as Natalia entered the room.

She was radiant as ever, her honey-brown hair cascading down her back, her emerald eyes sparkling with mischief. "Michael!" she called out brightly, her voice light and cheerful as she approached.

For a moment, I simply stared at her, waiting for the familiar warmth, the spark of connection. But it never came.

Instead, I felt. Nothing.

Her smile faltered a little as she stopped in front of me. "Are you all right?" she asked, concern flickering in her eyes.

I forced a smile though it felt so empty. "I'm fine."

But I wasn't fine.

She was more like a stranger now as I looked at her. This woman, my mate, with whom I had shared so many moments, felt like an empty shell.

"You've been distant lately," Natalia said, her voice soft. She reached out, placing a hand on my arm. "Is something wrong?"

I pulled away, the gesture automatic. "I've been busy," I said, my tone clipped.

Her brows furrowed and the injured expression finally reached her eyes. "Michael, please. Talk to me."

I stood abruptly, turning my back to her. "There's nothing to talk about."

But there was.

I was losing my mind, torn between the woman who was supposed to be my mate and the one who consumed my every thought. The one whose blood I craved, whose touch I couldn't forget.

"Michael," Natalia said again, her voice shaking. "Are you seeing someone?” 

I froze, hands clenching at my sides. "Don't," I warned, my voice low.

Natalia stumbled backward, shock and disbelief warred for dominance on her face. "It is, isn't it?"

I didn't respond. I couldn't.

Because the truth was, I had no idea what was happening to me. All I knew was that Samara was in my blood, inside my head, and no matter how hard I fought against her, there was no escaping from her.

I was losing control.

And the worst part? I wasn't sure I wanted to stop.

With Natalie footsteps still echoing, now farther and farther away, I let myself fall back into my chair, my head in my hands.

I was the Supreme Alpha, the leader of the strongest pack, and yet I was unraveling. My thoughts were consumed by a woman I couldn't have a woman who hated me.

But as I sat there, swimming in my turmoil, one thing was clear.

I was in heavy trouble.