Chapter 41
Chapter 41
The lingerie lies on the bed like a damn trap. Black silk, barely enough fabric to cover a handkerchief.
umed with lace that looks fragile enough to tear if I breathe too hard. The straps are thin, crossing like a spiderweb incant to catch idiots. Me, apparently.
i stare at it for a full thirty seconds, towel clenched like a shield. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I
mutter.
The old headmaid’s words echo in my skull. The Goddess chose you. You must consummate the bond tonight
Yeah, well, the Goddess isn’t the one about to walk out there in glorified dental floss.
But after five more seconds of standing there like a wet idiot, I drop the towel. The room’s warm, but my skin prickles anyway. I pick up the lingerie between two fingers, like it might bite, and pull it on piece by piece.
It fits–of course it fucking does. Someone measured me. The cups hug my breasts like they were custom- made, the silk smooth against my skin, cool at first then heating as it molds to me. The straps bite lightly into my hips, the lace brushing over old scars on my thighs. I catch my reflection in the gilded mirror across the room and almost don’t recognize the woman staring back.
She looks dangerous. Tempting. Nothing like the bruised, broken rogue that crawled into this pack.
I tug at the hem, frown, then tug again, like maybe if I pull hard enough, it’ll magically lengthen. No such luck.
“This is ridiculous,” I hiss under my breath. “I’m not parading around like some sacrificial virgin p>
My eyes sweep the room, searching for something–anything–less humiliating. Surely the Alpha King has actual clothes somewhere. I limp toward the far end of the room where double doors stand slightly ajar. I push them open.
The scent hits me first.
Sandalwood. Smoke. Clean masculine spice that settles low in my gut before my brain catches up. It’s him. Alaric. His scent floods the walk–in closet like it owns the place–which, technically, it does.
It’s massive. Of course it is. Shelves line the walls from floor to ceiling, packed with rows of black suits, crisp shirts, boots polished to mirror shine. There’s a section of hoodies and sweaters, probably for when he pretends to be human. Everything is immaculate, color–coordinated, folded with military precision.
I run my fingers along a row of shirts. The fabric is soft, expensive. But it’s the smell that stops me.
God, it’s strong here. Warm, smoky, heady. My wolf stirs, restless, pressing against my skin like it wants closer.
“No,” I whisper to myself. “We are not doing this p>
But my feet move anyway.
I pull out one of his black shirts, oversized and heavy in my hands. I bring it up to my face before I can stop
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Chapter 41
myself. The scent hits me like a punch. My knees actually weaken for a second.
I close my eyes, breathing it in like some kind of addict. It’s ridiculous, pathetic even, but after years of being hunted and hated, the sinell of strength and safety makes something deep in me loosen. Just for a heartbeat.
Then Learch myself.
1
“Oh my fucking Goddess,” I groan, yanking the shirt away. “What the hell am I doing? Sniffing his clothes? What am I, twelve? ”
I glance toward the door, paranoia flickering. No one saw that. Good.
I turn back to the racks, pretending to inspect them like I wasn’t just face–deep in Alaric’s shirt like a lunatic. Maybe I can actually wear one. It’d cover more than this damn lingerie at least. I reach up to grab another-
“Enjoying yourself p>
The voice freezes me mid–reach.
Low. Rough. Amused.
My stomach drops. Slowly–painfully slowly–I turn.
The moment the hanger slips through my fingers and the expensive silk suit drops to the floor like a corpse, my stomach lurches.
Shit.
Alaric stands in the doorway, still in the black shirt he wore earlier, sleeves rolled to his forearms, chest broad. enough to block the light from the bedroom behind him. He stands by the doorway, one shoulder pressed lazily against the frame, as if he owns not just this villa but the entire damn country. His amber eyes drag slowly down my body, heavy and scorching. No mask. No pretense. Just pure, predatory curiosity.
Of course. Of course he’d catch me in his closet, wearing lingerie, clutching his shirt like a pervert.
My heart launches into my throat as I whip around, caught red–handed.
I snatch the suit off the floor so fast I nearly rip the fabric, fumbling to hang it back like it hasn’t just been assaulted by my panic. “I–uh–I was just…” I trail off, realizing how utterly unconvincing I sound.
He cocks his head, lips quirking. “Just what, cara mia?” His voice is a low growl, thick with amusement and something far more dangerous.
“I-” My voice cracks. I clear my throat. “This isn’t what it looks like p>
He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest, a slow grin curving his mouth. “Really? Because it looks like my little runaway is in my shirt closet, wearing something very interesting, and sniffing my clothes like she’s trying to memorize my scent p>
Heat floods my face. “I wasn’t sniffing–okay, maybe I was, but only because your damn scent is everywhere like a gas leak. It’s not my fault p>
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Chapter 41
He chuckles. Deep. Rough. It rolls through the closet like distant thunder, vibrating somewhere deep in my
chest.
“Gas leak,” he repeats, eyes dropping slowly from my flushed face to the lingerie hugging my body. His gaze lingers, unapologetic, trailing every exposed inch of skin. “Interesting choice of words, Cute, too
I scowl. “Don’t start p>
“Start what?” His grin widens a fraction. “You’re the one trespassing in my closet p>
I throw my hands up, the shirt still dangling from one. “Because the only thing in your entire bedroom is this –“I gesture to myself “-piece of silk that barely qualifies as clothing. I was looking for something normal to
wear p>
“Normal,” he says, pushing off the doorframe and taking a slow step toward me. “You’re standing in the Alpha King’s chambers wearing lingerie chosen by the Goddess herself. Nothing about this night is normal p>
My heartbeat kicks up, loud in my ears. He’s close now, close enough that his scent isn’t just in the air–it’s on my skin, wrapping around me. His eyes darken, flicking between my face and the shirt in my hand.
“And for the record,” he murmurs, reaching out to pluck the shirt from my grip, “if you wanted to wear my clothes… you could’ve just asked p>
I swallow hard, hating the way my pulse stutters under his gaze. “You’re insufferable p>
He smirks, stepping even closer, his breath warm against my ear. “And yet here you are p>
“I’m–I told you, I was looking for something to wear,” I blurt, gesturing vaguely at the rack like it’s suddenly responsible for my existence. “Not snooping. Totally not that p>
His gaze drifts down again, slower this time, deliberately lingering on the oversized shirt I stole from the closet earlier. It barely covers my thighs. My bare legs feel exposed under his stare, heat crawling up the back of my neck.
“The one you’re wearing,” he says, his tongue sweeping across his bottom lip, “is already more than enough p>
My face flames. I cross my arms over my chest, glaring at him. “You’re such a damn pervert p>
老
He pushes off the doorframe with a kind of predatory grace that makes my pulse spike. “Pervert?” He steps closer. “No. Devoted.” Another step. “Obsessed, maybe.” The floor creaks softly under his boots, my back hitting the closet door as I instinctively retreat. “I prayed to the Goddess for years, Sorin,” he murmurs, eyes gleaming. “Maybe she finally heard me p>
My breath stutters. “You’re insane p>
“Maybe.” He closes the distance, towering over me, his scent invading every inch of air between us–pine, smoke, and something sharp that makes my knees weak. “But you’re mine. And now,” his gaze drops to my mouth, “we obey what the Goddess wants p>
I freeze, pressed against the wood, heart hammering so hard I feel it in my fingertips. He lowers his head and I shut my eyes, every muscle locking up, expecting his mouth to crash against mine.
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Chapter 41
But he doesn’t.
His lips brush the shell of my car instead, warm breath spilling over my skin. My body jerks involuntarily. His fingers trail down the side of my thigh, skimming over the bandages wrapped there, making goosebumps rise in their wake,
“I’ll warn you now,” he whispers, voice gone dark, feral. “When we finally do this, I won’t be able to hold back. I’ll be a monster. And in this state,” his thumb grazes the edge of a bandage, “I can’t wreck you. Not like this p>
I blink my eyes open, breath hitching. “Wait–what p>
He pulls back just enough for me to see his gaze flick down to my injured legs. His expression softens for half a second, then hardens again with restraint that looks painful.
Oh.
I didn’t realize until that moment how… disappointed I am. Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I scowl at myself. What the hell is wrong with me?
Before I can move, his arm snakes around my waist and he yanks me flush against his chest. The sudden contact knocks the air from my lungs. He buries his face in the curve of my neck, inhaling deeply like he’s starved for it.
“Gods, you have no idea how much I’m craving you,” he growls against my skin, voice vibrating through me.
I feel it then–hard, insistent, pressing against my stomach. My entire body locks, heat exploding down my spine.
“Alaric p>
He steps back suddenly, leaving me gasping like an idiot in the closet. His lips are curved in a wicked, knowing smirk.
I limp out with him, still clutching the edge of his shirt like it might shield me from the heat radiating off him. His hand settles possessively at the small of my back, guiding me through the hallway toward the main bedroom.
E
His mouth dips to my ear. “You should know… there are dozens of Omegas waiting outside. They’re expecting to hear something p>
My brows knit. “Something p>
He looks at me like I’m the most adorable idiot alive. “Noises. To confirm we actually did it p>
I stop dead. “What the fuck p>
His smirk deepens, eyes sparkling with mischief that shouldn’t look that good on someone who can kill with his bare hands. “Tradition p>
“That’s not tradition–that’s voyeurism p>
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Chapter 41
“Well,” he drawls, bending slightly to meet my gaze, “then I suppose we’ll have to give them something p>
Before I can process, he sweeps me off my feet–literally. My body collides with his chest as he lifts me bridal style like I weigh nothing.
“Alaric!” I shriek, gripping his shoulders instinctively. His chest rumbles with a laugh that’s both infuriating and hot as hell.
“Relax,” he murmurs, striding toward the massive bed draped in white linens. The room smells faintly of fresh linen, bergamot, and him. Always him. The evening light filters through the balcony doors, casting warm gold across his sharp jawline. He looks like sin dressed in authority.
My heart is thrashing wildly, caught between panic and something that has no business feeling this excited.
He sets me down on the bed, slowly, deliberately. His hands linger at my waist, thumbs brushing the skin beneath the hem of his shirt I’m wearing. My breath hitches.
He leans in, his face inches from mine, eyes dark and burning. “We don’t have to go all the way,” he whispers, voice rough. “But they need to believe it p>
His words hang between us, thick and electric. My pulse pounds in my ears. The world narrows to his breath on my lips, the warmth of his hands, the weight of his gaze.
And then-“Ah p>
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