WICKED PROVIDENCE Book 2

Avery’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She forced her features into a submissive mask, a weak smile flickering on her lips. "It isn’t what you think, Enforcer. I am simply... overheated from the journey. Surely a warrior of the Montgomery Pack doesn’t wish to claim a mate who is too faint to stand?"

The man’s laughter was a jagged, wild sound that echoed off the stone walls. His predatory gaze intensified, pinning her to the spot. "I gave you a command, exile," he growled, each word vibrating with Alpha authority. "Strip. Now."

Avery stood frozen, her wolf cowering deep inside. The man lunged, his hand snapping out to seize her chin with enough force to bruise. He wrenched her jaw open, and before she could draw breath to scream, he shoved a bitter, chalky pill down her throat.

He stepped back, his complacency radiating in the humid air. "You said you wanted to stay by a strong male's side. Don’t howl to the ancestors now. Get on the furs and bare your throat. If you’re submissive, maybe I’ll leave you with your skin intact."

Avery choked back a sob, her eyes turning into shards of ice. In a final, desperate burst of defiance, she lunged at him, claws unsheathed.

But the hierarchy was absolute. The disparity in their raw physical power was a chasm she couldn't leap, and the drug was already beginning to melt her internal defenses. A tidal wave of unnatural heat surged through her veins, turning her muscles to water and sapping the strength from her bones.

In a futile attempt to keep her mind sharp, she bit down on her tongue until the copper taste of blood filled her mouth. It did nothing. The fever only climbed.

The man shook his head, looking down at her with pitying scorn. "Stop fighting. The Martel Heiress provided the most potent 'Heat-Bloom' extract to ensure this contract is sealed. There is no cure for this venom. Without a male to stabilize your pulse, your heart will simply burst."

As he stepped toward the bed, tears of pure despair tracked through the dust on Avery's cheeks.

He pounced, his heavy breathing a rhythmic provocation as he began to tear at her traveling silks. "The media pack is already circling the lodge. Lady Joanna is truly 'generous.' She picked a high-born suitor for you originally, but you chose to run. Now, you’ve settled for me. Regrets? Save them for the morning. From this moon onward, you carry my mark."

Avery cursed Joanna Martel with every fading shred of her soul.

Just as the Enforcer moved to finish his conquest, a sickening thud broke the silence. He groaned, his eyes rolling back as he collapsed onto the floor like a felled timber.

Her mind fractured by the drug, Avery blinked through a haze of crimson and gold. A tall, erect silhouette moved through the gloom toward her.

At first, she saw only a shadow. But as he stepped into a shaft of moonlight, the obsidian mask covering his face became clear. Recognition pierced through the fog of her desire.

"Hudson..." Her voice slurred, the Heat-Bloom turning her words into a low, unintentional purr. Her skin was a deep, burning scarlet, and her eyes were bright with a fever that would have brought an Alpha to his knees.

Hudson Montgomery rushed to the bedside, gathering her into his arms. He let out a ragged sigh that stirred her hair. "Avery... you have placed another debt upon my soul."

Avery remembered the Enforcer’s words—the only cure for the Bloom was the act itself. The last spark of her rational mind screamed at her to flee from any Montgomery male. "Get away," she gasped, her hands pushing feebly against his broad chest.

She didn't realize that in her weakened state, her resistance looked like an invitation. Her movements were soft and tentative, like a pup batting at a predator’s paw.

"Do not move," Hudson growled, his eyes flashing with a dangerous, protective golden glint.

"Please... just leave me to the fever!" Avery pleaded, her voice trembling.

Hudson placed her gently on the furs and then, his voice cutting through the air like a whip, commanded the shadow in the doorway, "Find the antidote! Search the Lodge!"

Blake Donovan stepped forward, checking Avery’s racing pulse. He shook his head grimly. "I’m sorry, Hudson. This isn't a standard toxin. It's a bio-engineered lunar aphrodisiac. I’ve never seen a concentration this high. I’m afraid..." He trailed off, the implication heavy in the air.

Hudson’s chest heaved. "Can she survive the night alone?"

Blake shook his head. "Her heart rate is triple the norm. She’ll stroke out before the moon sets."

Hudson took a deep, steadying breath. "I understand. Clear the perimeter. Ensure no one—not even a bird—approaches this wing."

"Understood, Alpha." Blake exited, clicking the heavy iron bolt into place behind him.

Silence descended, thick and heavy. Only Hudson and Avery remained.

Slowly, Hudson reached up and unlatched his mask. The face beneath was strikingly handsome, though a jagged, silver scar ran from his temple down to his jawline. It was an old wound, a relic of the night he was cast out.

He sat beside her, taking her burning hand in his cool one. "Since you are lost to the Bloom, I will show you who I am. Do not fear the beast I’ve become."

But Avery’s senses were gone. She sat up abruptly, her movements fueled by a bold, drug-induced confidence. She slid into his lap, her posture a daring challenge to his restraint.

Hudson wrapped a powerful arm around her waist to steady her, his face a mask of sorrow and desire. "Avery, is this what you want?" In response, Avery pressed her feverish lips to his. That contact shattered the last of his iron control.

Two hours later, Hudson released her with a heavy, contented exhale.

Exhausted, Avery curled into the crook of his arm like a tired pup. She rested her face against his heartbeat, letting out a faint, weary whimper.

Hudson’s hand wandered over her features, tracing the lines of the woman he had hunted for in his dreams every night of his exile. It felt surreal, a hallucination born of the woods. Suddenly, a sharp rapping hit the door.

Blake hesitated at the threshold. "Hudson, the media packs are at the gates—reporters from the High Council and the Border News. Should we drive them into the river?"

"No," Hudson replied coldly. "They were sent by Joanna to catch Avery in her shame. If we don't control the narrative, they will invent a foul one."

Blake muttered, "You've let this female turn the whole Ridge upside down." Nearby, another enforcer gave Blake a swift kick. "Shut it! You don't know the weight of their blood."

To the men of Hudson’s inner circle, this felt like a convergence of stars—a chance to heal the rift of the Montgomery line. But given how stubborn Avery could be, a peaceful union was far from certain.

As the noise outside grew, Avery began to stir. Her brow knitted as the effects of the Bloom finally receded, leaving her with a crushing clarity. Hudson’s heart skipped. He panicked, quickly sliding his mask back into place. When he turned, he found Avery staring directly into the obsidian slits of the mask.

"Hudson," she whispered, the name catching in her throat as she realized the intimacy of their position. But to his shock, she appeared entirely composed. She stood up with a regal grace and began to fasten her torn silks.

"Do not blame yourself," she said, her voice steady. "We are adults of the pack. We make our choices. Without your intervention, I would be dead or worse. I didn't ask for this, but I am grateful for the life. If you had an antidote, you would have used it. I know that."

Hudson remained silent, gripped by a sudden, biting sense of abandonment. He felt as though she was dismissing him—discarding the act as a mere medical necessity.

He sat up, the furs sliding down to reveal his powerful, scarred physique. His muscles were corded like ironwood, his skin mapped with the veins of a true Alpha.

He let out a soft, bitter laugh. "You handle the loss of your virtue with remarkable efficiency."

Avery finished dressing and turned to him. Tears were finally shimmering in her eyes. In a sudden, jerky movement, she stepped back, her heel catching a glass on the nightstand and sending it shattering.

She snatched up a long, jagged shard and pressed it against the pulse point of her neck. A thin line of red appeared on her pale skin.

Hudson’s heart nearly stopped. He grabbed a cloak to wrap around his waist and lunged toward her. "Stop!"

"Stay back!" Avery cried, her voice finally breaking. "I am not calm! My honor is my life, and right now, I am in agony because the man who just claimed me is a stranger—a masked shadow! I will not be the 'exile's plaything.' If this is how I must live, I would rather return to the moon tonight!"

Hudson saw the absolute desperation in her gaze. She was a second away from ending it.

In a fit of terror, he blurted out, "How can you say you don't know me? I am the father of your pup! I am the mate you lost! We only ended up here because of Joanna’s treachery. If my presence is a curse, I will vanish into the barrens forever—but please, drop the glass!"

Avery froze.

Hudson stepped forward, his fingers trembling as he gently took her wrist and pried the shard from her hand.

As he did, Avery looked up. The despair vanished, replaced by a calm, terrifyingly sharp clarity. A faint, ironic smile touched her lips. "I knew the moment you touched me," she whispered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I was just waiting for you to have the courage to say it."

Hudson felt his stomach drop. The coldness in her eyes made him flinch. "When... when did you know?"

Avery sighed. "Your story of dying in the border wars was convincing. I almost believed the lie. But your scent, Hudson... a wolf never forgets the scent of her true mate."

She offered nothing more. She knew every curve of his body, every rhythmic habit of his touch. She had suspected the 'Stranger' was him for weeks, but she had never imagined he would reveal himself in a trap set by his own cousin.

With a mocking laugh, she shook her head. "Hudson, are you going to keep cowering behind that mask, or are you finally going to look your mate in the eye?"