chapter 5

FREYA

The first thing I became aware of was the softness beneath me and it felt nothing like the cold hard floor where I'd collapsed in my own blood. For a moment, just a fleeting beautiful moment, I thought maybe it had all been a terrible nightmare and I'd wake up in the palace infirmary with my mother hovering over me with that worried crease between her brows that she always got when I was sick as a child.

But even before I opened my eyes, I knew something was wrong because the scent was all wrong. The palace infirmary always smelled like antiseptic and the lavender oil the healers used in their treatments, but this room smelled like an expensive diffuser and something darker, something that made my wolf stir with interest despite everything.

I forced my eyes open slowly, wincing at the brightness of the morning sun streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows I definitely did not recognize. The ceiling above me was vaulted and painted a soft cream color with intricate molding. A massive crystal chandelier hung in the center of the room, catching the light and scattering rainbow prisms across the walls.

This was definitely not the palace infirmary.

My heart began to race as I sat up too quickly, ignoring the wave of dizziness that washed over me. The bed I was lying in was enormous, easily twice the size of my bed back home. The entire room screamed wealth and power in a way that made my father's palace look almost modest by comparison.

Where the hell was I?

My first instinct was panic because let's be honest, waking up in an unfamiliar luxurious bedroom after passing out from blood loss is exactly the kind of scenario that ends badly in every cautionary tale ever told to young she-wolves. Had I been kidnapped? Was this some elaborate revenge plot by one of my father's enemies? Moon Goddess, what is going on?

I scrambled out of bed, my legs shaky beneath me, and that's when I noticed I wasn't wearing the blood-soaked clothes from last night. Instead, I was dressed in an oversized shirt that definitely belonged to a man, and from the lingering scent on it, a very specific man.

Oh no. Oh no no no.

The door opened before I could process that particular horror and there he was, Damien Hamilton, looking unfairly attractive in dark jeans and a casual black shirt, carrying a tray laden with what looked like medicine and food.

The memories came flooding back in vivid detail and I genuinely wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole because dying of embarrassment seemed like a perfectly reasonable alternative to facing him right now. The hotel room, the drunken haze, the way I'd practically thrown myself at him, the things we'd done, oh Moon Goddess, the things we'd done.

My face must have gone through about seventeen different shades of red because Damien's lips quirked up in what looked like the beginning of a smile before he schooled his features into something more neutral. He set the tray down on the bedside table with careful precision and I couldn't help but notice his hands, the same hands that had been all over my body just hours ago, and nope, not going there, absolutely not thinking about that right now.

"You're awake," he said simply and his voice was different from how I remembered it at the hotel, less rough with desire and more controlled, almost gentle. "How are you feeling?"

I opened my mouth to respond but what came out was more of a strangled squeak than actual words because how exactly was I supposed to respond to that question given the circumstances? Oh you know, just peachy, thanks for asking, just woke up in the bedroom of the son of my father's sworn enemy after accidentally sleeping with him while drunk and then discovering his twin brother is my mate, so yeah, totally fine, living my best life.

"I... where am I?" I finally managed to croak out, wrapping my arms around myself because suddenly I was very aware of how little I was wearing and how his shirt barely reached mid-thigh on me.

"My family's estate," Damien replied, pouring what looked like medicinal tea from a delicate porcelain pot. "The Hamilton territory, specifically the west wing of the main house. Don't worry, my father doesn't know you're here and I'd like to keep it that way if possible."

Oh fantastic, so I was currently standing in enemy territory wearing nothing but the shirt of the man I'd accidentally had sex with. This day just kept getting better and better. I briefly wondered if it was possible to die from sheer mortification because I was pretty sure I was about to find out.

"How did I get here?" I asked, even though part of me really didn't want to know the answer because I had a horrible suspicion it involved Damien carrying my unconscious body out of my father's palace and that was just another layer of humiliation I wasn't ready to process.

Damien's expression darkened slightly and he pushed the cup of tea toward me with a gentleness that seemed at odds with his reputation as a shameless womanizer. "I found you collapsed in your room, bleeding from a head wound. Your mate had left you there to die, apparently, in favor of rushing off to tend to your sister's self-inflicted scratch."

The casual way he said 'your mate' made it clear he knew exactly who Lucian was and what had transpired, and the knowledge that Damien Hamilton knew about my humiliation made me want to crawl under the bed and never come out.

"I brought you here because leaving you there would have been a death sentence," he continued, his green eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. "Your skull was fractured and you'd lost a significant amount of blood. My family's healers are the best in all nine territories and they were able to stabilize you, but you've been unconscious for almost eighteen hours."

Eighteen hours. I'd missed my own mating ceremony, not that I'd been planning to attend anyway, but still. My father must be losing his mind right now. Or maybe he wasn't, maybe he'd just written me off entirely in favor of his precious alliance with the Lycan Prince.

"I should go," I said, even though I had absolutely no idea where I would go because going back to my father's palace was clearly not an option. "Thank you for helping me but I really can't be here."

"Drink the tea first," Damien said firmly, and there was something in his tone that made it clear he wasn't going to take NO for an answer. "It'll help with the lingering dizziness and prevent infection. Then we can discuss where you're going to go, though I have to tell you, your options are somewhat limited at the moment."

I wanted to argue but he was right and I hated that he was right. I also hated that my hands were shaking as I reached for the cup and that he noticed and carefully steadied it for me, his fingers brushing against mine in a way that sent an entirely inappropriate jolt of electricity through my body.

The tea was bitter but I drank it anyway, keeping my eyes fixed on the liquid because looking at Damien right now felt like acknowledging everything that had happened between us and I wasn't ready for that. I wasn't ready for any of this, the betrayal, the rejection, the mate bond with Dante, the accidental night with Damien, all of it was too much and I felt like I was drowning.

"You don't have to be embarrassed," Damien said quietly and I nearly choked on the tea because how could I not be embarrassed about literally everything that had transpired in the last twenty-four hours?

"Easy for you to say," I muttered, setting the cup down with more force than necessary. "You're not the one who drunkenly stumbled into the wrong hotel room and basically begged a complete stranger to sleep with you."

"You didn't beg," Damien said and there was something almost soft in his expression that completely threw me off balance. "And for what it's worth, I tried to stop you. I knew you were drunk and I knew you thought I was someone else at first. But you were insistent and you said you wanted it and I..." he trailed off, running a hand through his dark hair in what looked like genuine frustration. "I should have been stronger. I should have sent you away. I'm sorry."

I stared at him in complete shock because Damien Hamilton, notorious playboy and shameless womanizer, was apologizing to me for something that was clearly my fault and my responsibility. This was not how I expected this conversation to go. Actually, I'd expected him to tease me mercilessly about my performance or maybe make some crude jokes about my inexperience, definitely not this gentle concern that was currently radiating from him.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" I blurted out before I could stop myself. "Everyone knows your reputation. You're supposed to be this shameless player who goes through women like most people go through tissues, but you're being all gentle and considerate and it's really confusing."

Something flickered in Damien's eyes, something that looked almost like pain before he masked it with that practiced easy smile I'd seen him wear at pack gatherings. "Maybe my reputation isn't entirely accurate," he said lightly, but there was weight behind the words. "Or maybe I just don't feel like being that person right now."

Before I could process that statement, he stood and moved to a closet I hadn't noticed before, pulling out what looked like women's clothing. "These should fit you," he said, laying them on the bed beside me. "They belonged to... someone who stayed here before. You can shower if you'd like, the bathroom is through that door. Take your time, we're not in a rush."

He headed for the door but I called out to him before he could leave because there was something I needed to know, something that had been bothering me since I woke up.

"Damien, wait."

He turned back to me, one hand on the doorframe, his green eyes questioning.

"Why would you help me?" I asked, hating how small my voice sounded. "Why would you risk bringing me here to your family's estate, treating my wounds, giving me clothes and shelter when I'm the daughter of your father's greatest enemy? This doesn't make any sense."

Damien was quiet for a long moment and I watched several emotions cross his face before he seemed to settle on something that looked almost like resignation. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, clearly weighing his words carefully.

Finally, he said something I absolutely did not expect and that changed everything.

"Because my brother wouldn't leave your side."

The words hung in the air between us and I felt my heart stop beating for just a moment because what did that mean exactly? Dante had been there when I was unconscious? Dante, my newly discovered mate who was supposed to hate me because of my bloodline, had stayed by my side?

"What?" I gasped, my eyes nearly popping out of my eye sockets.