Chapter one: The Lie Behind My Mate

ELIRA

The thick, gold-embossed envelope sat on the cluttered desk like a weapon waiting to detonate. It had my name on it. Elira Montrose.

I stared down at the crisp parchment, my pulse throbbing steadily in my throat. I had spent the past three hours alone with my thoughts in Dorian's office, filing his company's quarterly tax forms, when his secretary entered and handed me the letter.

"This came from the Montrose house, ma'am," she said, a question in her eyes that she tried to hide. I recognised the seal on the envelope almost immediately. Anybody would recognise that seal. What did the Larkspur pack want with me?

My fingers trembled as I read through the black, gothic print.

OFFICIAL MANDATE: LARKSPUR PACK SURROGACY SELECTION

Applicant: Elira Montrose

Status: Selected for Phase One.

Notice: You are required to be present at your listed permanent residence, Montrose house, Nightswirl pack estate, by 18:00 hours today. Enforcers from the Larkspur Pack will arrive to secure your transport to the pack house.

"Surrogacy?" I whispered to the empty office. "Alpha Rurik?"

My brain stalled. Alpha Rurik Larkspur was a name mentioned very few times, for safety, and seen even fewer times. Whispered rumours had it that he was currently lying in an unnatural, mystic coma. His pack was desperate for an heir to secure his bloodline. The letter in my hands made that rumour true.

I had never applied. I already had a mate, and even if I didn't, I was wolfless, a weak submissive female with no internal beast to offer a high-tier pack. How had my name crossed the borders of the Nightswirl pack and into the revered Larkspur pack?

My blood heated beneath my skin. I snatched my purse, shoved the letter into my jacket pocket, and sprinted out of the executive suite.

Dorian. My Dorian. He would solve this for me, as he had always solved every other of the unending problems in my life. He had sufficient connections to the people in high places to rectify this error. The summon was nothing but a gross error.

I practically flew down the elevator and drove straight to his private residence on the edge of the pack territory.

When I reached the house, the grand mahogany front doors were thrown shut. I pushed at them to let myself in, crossing the entryway on legs that were already shaking. My shoes squeaked softly on the glossy tiles. The house was quiet, bathed in the dim amber light of the late afternoon.

"Dorian!" I called out, my voice tight as I rushed down the hallway toward his master bedroom. "Dorian, are you home? There's been an error. Someone put my name into the Larkspur…"

The remaining words froze in my throat when I heard it. A low, drawn-out purr, the voice unmistakable.

The scent hit me before I stopped in front of the bedroom. Something slick and warm, the way the air smelled anytime Dorian decided to call me into his bedroom. But the other scent wasn't mine.

The door opened a small crack, as if it had been shut in a hurry. With fingers already gone stiff, I slowly opened it, quietly. And suddenly, my life became a recreation of one of the absurd stories I'd read in novels in the library.

Standing by the bed was Dorian, completely without clothes, his face drawn into that tight expression I had seen often enough to know that it wasn't him in control anymore, but his wolf. Sweat gleamed on his muscles, his biceps flexed as he firmly gripped the woman's hips, thrusting.

She was bent over the edge of the bed, her long, dark hair splaying gloriously about the sheets. Her head was turned in my direction, eyes shut, her neck stretched taut as she drew out purr after loud purr.

I followed their movements like a numb spectator, as he pushed on her back to arch her waist even further. He was grunting now, thrusting deeper into her. She gripped the sheets as her lower lip disappeared between her teeth.

Naya. My stepsister. And Dorian. My mate.

My phone slipped from my numb fingers, falling to the tiles with a loud crash. I registered the sound somewhere in the back of my brain.

Her eyes flew open. Dorian stopped mid-thrust. He turned his head slowly, his dark eyes glowing faintly as his wolf receded from the physical act. He did not pull away. He did not cover himself. He just looked at me, his chest heaving. His mouth lifted at one corner with that expression that I'd come to read as irritation.

Naya rolled her eyes, straightening as he slipped out of her. He was still semi-hard. I saw the liquid drop to the floor, creamy and sticky.

"Really, Elira," she slurred, running a hand through her hair. She sat down on the bed. "Why do you have such horrible timing?"

My stomach churned, rumbling so violently that I was sure they had heard the sound. "What is happening here?" I asked, my voice something small and unrecognisable.

"Your work hours for today aren't over yet," Dorian rasped, crossing the room to his reading desk as Naya lazily pulled the sheets over her chest. "You're not even supposed to be here today."

"Oh." My voice cracked, tears burning the backs of my eyes as I looked between them. "So it's alright if I'm not here, then, isn't it?"

Naya let out a loud, mocking laugh, tossing her hair over her bare shoulder as she sat up. "Oh, sweetie. You are so painfully naive. He said you didn't know, but I did not believe him until now. Really. Dorian, just where haven't we explored?"

I stared at Dorian, begging him with my eyes to deny it, to say she was lying, to say this was a nightmare.

Dorian just picked up his silk robe from the chair and tied it loosely around his waist. He walked toward me, his heavy wolf aura flaring just enough to make my weak, submissive instincts want to bend the knee. But my anger held me upright.

"Yes, Elira," Dorian said plainly, stepping right into my personal space. "You didn't think that what I used to do with you was enough for me, right? Come on, you're as dormant as your non-existent wolf. Nothing exciting. Naya was just what I needed."

"You are my mate! Mine!" I screamed, slamming my fist against his solid chest. "You claimed me! Not her. You were not supposed to do anything with any other she wolf, Dorian."

Dorian grabbed my wrist, his grip like a steel cuff. His eyes flashed cold and predatory.

"Careful there now, Elira. Watch how you behave around me. Don't make me angrier than your interruption has already made me."

My hand shook in his grip. I stared deep into his eyes, reading nothing but rage, so pure and intense that I could smell it in his scent.

"You're a monster," I spat, my voice shaking with raw hatred. Looking right into his eyes, I drew in a deep breath, reaching deep into the empty space where my wolf should have been, calling on the ancient laws of our people. "I, Elira Montrose, reject you, Dorian Scarlow, as my mate!"

The silence hit the room like a thick wave. For a moment, the only sound was the tick-tick of the ancient clock hanging over Dorian's bed. I waited for the stabbing pain that had been described in the novels I'd read, the one that came when fated mates rejected each other. I felt nothing.

Dorian's face twitched as he released my wrist, slowly. Then, he threw his head back and roared with laughter. Naya joined in, her cruel giggles echoing off the tall walls.

Dorian stepped closer, bending down until his hot breath brushed against my ear. His voice dropped into a dark, mocking whisper that cut straight to my soul.

"You can't reject what you never had, little girl," he sneered, pulling back to look down at me with utter contempt. "We were never mates. I lied."