Chapter 1

Sienna's POV

Music screams from the car radio, and cool air whips through my hair. My eyes drift to the navigation screen; I fight back a yawn and knead the tension gathering at the base of my neck.

Nothing tastes sweeter than thisthe certainty of being free. Free of the mold I was pressed into, free of the shield my parents built around me. I watched my packs territory shrink in the rearview mirror, and freedom expanded in its place.

No more watching eyes. No more frightened whispers I must pretend not to hear. I can finally leave it all behindor so I tell myself. Yet the past clings like a stubborn leech, returning when I least expect it. Returning to warn me. One mistake, and my luck could run out. I try not to imagine what would have happened if Mother hadnt arrived in time. If she hadnt saved him I wouldnt be driving this road now.

Less than an hour remains. The journey from the Shadow Striders Packthe only home Ive knownhas been long. I never wanted it to come to this: hiding near the edge of town, close to Eclipse Academy, where classes begin in a week.

My twin will live in the dorms, but after what occurred last winter, I cannot take that risk. Since turning eighteen, the control has been slippingwhy, I still dont understand.

I ease off the accelerator, signal left, and merge into the slower lane. The town ahead is modest. A ten-minute drive to the Academy. This land belongs to the Crimson Fangs Packnot large, but its Alpha holds my fathers trust. The Alphas father once sat on Dads council, an elder until his passing.

Alpha Sebastian is a loyal man, eager to please my father. He offered me a room in his own home, and Dad approved. I refused. I need to stop leaning on my fatheron anyone. The reason I left the dormitories was to be alone.

This is my opportunity to step outside the Lycan Kings shadowno simple task when you are his daughter.

What do you think, Lucia? Will this place suit us? I stroke the silken black fur of the green-eyed cat curled on the passenger seat.

Lucia is my ride-or-die. She has been with me since childhooda gift from my father. We are seldom apart. We could almost be sisters: the same dark hair, the same vivid green eyes.

She answers with a soft purr, and a smile touches my lips. She will love it here. Pets are forbidden at the Academy, though Lucia always finds her way in, hidden in bags or beneath coats. My foot jams the brakeI have nearly missed the turn. Lucia hisses, claws scrambling as she nearly slides to the floor.

I smirk, turn the key to quiet the engine, and roll up the window. Gathering her into my arms, I step out and study the small cottage tucked among the trees. A low fence circles the front, hemmed by untrimmed hedges. With a quiet smile, I push open the wobbly gate and follow the gravel path to the door. A fresh beginning.

This cottage belongs to the Crimson Fangs Alphathe sole reason my father permitted me to live here alone. Madelina, my twin, offered to join me, but I know she adores campus life, spending hours in the library after class. It wouldnt be fair to pull her away from her clubs and friends.

At the doorstep, blue paint peeling in curls, I kneel and lift the clay flowerpot. Beneath it lies the key they promised would be waiting. Well, Lucia, I murmur, lets see what our final years refuge looks like.

The door unlocks with a click. Inside, the space feels quaint, slightly worn, but clean. The scent of citrus cleaner lingerscourtesy, I assume, of the Alpha and his Luna. I move into the kitchen, and my gaze lands immediately on the card propped against an oversized basket of fruit on the table.

Meow Lucia purrs, leaping lightly onto the tabletop.

I pick up the card and read it aloud, affecting an exaggeratedly refined tone.

Dear Sienna,

Welcome to the Crimson Fangs Pack. I hope your new accommodation is to your liking. The pantry and refrigerator have been stocked for you. We would also like to invite you to join our family for dinner tomorrow evening.

P.S. A room in our home remains prepared, should you reconsider. Our pack and our house are yours.

With warmth, Luna Ava of the Crimson Fangs Pack.

I release a slow sigh and let my eyes roll skyward.

Chapter 2

Sienna's POV

So, Sebastian has no intention of leaving me in peace. Was this my fathers schemea gentle reminder that watchful eyes still follow me?

I cant comprehend their insistence. They should know by now I wont yield to pressure. Their concern means nothing. I dont need it.

This year belongs to me. To what I desire. I study the note, pluck a grape from the overflowing hamper, and toss it lightly before catching it between my crimson lips.

My phone chimes from the pocket of my leather jacket. I withdraw it, one eyebrow lifting at the message displayed.

Dad.

Hey, are you there? What do you think of the place? Sebastian mentioned he invited you for dinner tomorrow. Make sure you go.

A sigh escapes me. I set the phone down, leaving his message marked read.

Plan all you want, Dad, I murmur to the empty room. You and Sebastian can entertain your old goats without me. This year is mine. Im legally an adult. Im finished with obedience.

I move to the antique radio perched on the counterhow old is this thing?and switch it on. It works. I tune to a music channel and crank the volume until the sound vibrates in my bones and drowns my own thoughts. A faint smirk touches my lips as I shrug off my jacket, toss it onto a chair, and head back outside.

Time to unpack. Time to claim this space.

All done, Lucia! I collapse onto the bed, wrapped only in a towel after my shower. The unpacking is finished. My phone feels heavy in my hand.

I skim through messages from my friendsthen the stack from Dad, a couple from Mama. I ignore them. I have no appetite for their layered concern.

Instead, I roll onto my stomach and open a separate messaging app. My breath catches. A small red dot glows beside one namea tiny 4 hovering over it.

Four messages.

I bite my lower lip and tap the thread: NyxSovereign.

NyxSovereign: Im waiting. You owe me that picture.

Starting to worryyou havent been online in almost a day.

Seriously? No reply?

Everything okay? Message me when you can. I might be a little concerned.

ValkyrieOmega: Aww, did you miss me? I knew I was preciousjust didnt realize you were this needy.

I bite back a smirk as I see the typing indicator appear. So he was waiting.

NyxSovereign: Hilarious. Not. Where have you been?

I roll onto my back, a flutter rising in my chesta giddiness I cant explain. Wed met in an online chatroom, betting on Alpha Gen X tournament matches. A debate sparked between us. He turned out to be right, but it was his cocky Told you so, love that struck something deep within me.

ValkyrieOmega: Moving day, remember?

NyxSovereign: Oh right, you mentioned that. Hows the new place?

A small smile forms. Its almost cute how he avoids coarser language.

ValkyrieOmega: Its nice. Secluded. Middle of nowhere. A little cottage buried in the woods.

NyxSovereign: You know the big bad wolf comes for the girl in the woods, right?

ValkyrieOmega: Oh, baby I am the big bad wolf.

NyxSovereign: With that tiny frame of yours?

I roll my eyes. Ive never shown him my facetoo risky he might recognize the Lycan Kings daughterbut hes seen a shot of me posed on a motorcycle, helmet on, and a few other partial glimpses.

ValkyrieOmega: This girl has claws and teeth. And Im not afraid to use either.

If only he knew how true that was.

NyxSovereign: Who says I dont enjoy a little pain? Maybe I wouldnt mind you tearing my clothes off with those claws.

Can a few words really make a heart stutter? When we first spoke, he was weathering a rough patch in some past relationship. He seldom mentions her, but the scars were there.

ValkyrieOmega: Lets not get ahead of ourselves

NyxSovereign: Ill try not to, lol. You still owe me a picture. Of the new tattoo?

Oh. Right.

My gaze drops to my right shoulder. Vines, delicate thorns, and crimson roses spiral from my shoulder, tracing the curve of my breast down to my waist, merging with the full sleeve inking my right arm.

Well if he wants a picture.

I loosen the towel, positioning my tattooed arm strategically. I cross my legs, raise the phone, and angle it so only my lower stomach to my shoulders is visible. A slight turn, a subtle arch of my back, and I capture the shotsteamy, suggestive, charged.

I examine it. It might be the boldest image Ive ever taken for someone. And yes, Im about to send it.

Weve been friends. But sometimes it feels like something else. Here goes nothing.

ValkyrieOmega: Here. What do you think?

I attach the image and press send. A spark of excitement twists inside me. I roll restlessly onto my stomach, watching as the Seen notification appears beneath the photo. My teeth sink into my lip. I wait.

Theres a pause. A long one.

Chapter 3

Sienna's POV

The seconds stretch, thin and endless, until those three pulsing dots appear.

NyxSovereign: Well. I may hold a doctorate in English, but at this moment, I am speechless. The tattoo is far more arresting than the sketch you shared. And secondlyforgive me if this crosses a lineyou are even more compelling undressed. I didnt think that possible.

A flutter erupts low in my stomach. A slow, knowing smile curves my lips as I type.

ValkyrieOmega: Thank you, XD. So do I get a picture in return?

The room feels suddenly warm. Even slipping between the crisp sheets of my freshly made bed does nothing to dispel the heat.

NyxSovereign: I suppose fairness demands it. Consider yourself warned: I just consumed a twenty-inch pizza.

ValkyrieOmega: Noted. Ill keep your food baby in mind during my admiration.

NyxSovereign: Lol.

An image loads. My breath stills.

I am staring at what might be the most defined abdomen I have ever seen. Damn. He is sizzling. A sun-tanned, sculpted terrain of muscle, every ridge and valley perfectly honed. The band of black boxer-briefs sits low. He appears to be seated in a black leather chair, one hand lifting a simple white tee for the quick, candid shot.

Oh, fuck.

NyxSovereign: Speechless now?

Feeling a little unsettled?

ValkyrieOmega: You are entirely lickable. Do you taste as good as you look?

I bite my lip. We are sailing into unmapped waters now. What even is this? Will this push him away?

NyxSovereign: I couldnt say. Would you like to find out?

ValkyrieOmega: One should never tempt the devil with sin.

NyxSovereign: Doesnt the devil tempt others?

ValkyrieOmega: The temptation is potent. So tell me, how are you holding up?

Silence. Perhaps I shouldnt have asked. The mood shifts, deflates. But then, the typing indicator flickers back to life.

NyxSovereign: Im managing. I have someone who keeps me occupied. Plus, a rather gorgeous picture that has, frankly, knocked it out of the park.

I run my fingers through my short, dark haircut just last week. Long hair was beautiful but a burden. This is freedom.

ValkyrieOmega: If you ever need to talk about it you know Im here.

Another pause. Have I overstepped? I am blunt by nature, but perhaps this was too far. I am weighing a follow-up when his reply appearstwo messages. The second one makes my heart hammer against my ribs.

NyxSovereign: I think its time we met. I want to know the woman whos been ruining my nights.

The words hold a double meaning. We text until one of us drifts offusually me. Or it could mean more.

My heart thuds heavily. I sit up abruptly, startling Lucia from her nap at the foot of the bed.

Meet.

I want to. I truly do. But a cold thread of fear winds through me. What if this ends us? If I lose controlif my Lycan surfacesI could hurt him. That danger is the very reason I am here, isolated, and not in the academy dorms.

NyxSovereign: That silence doesnt sound promising. Are you afraid? Well choose a public place. You mentioned moving south. Lets meet at Dolce Vita. I promise I wont bite.

I might.

He doesnt know my precise location. He doesnt know Im bound for Eclipse Academy; I told him the move was for work. One necessary lie to shield my true identity. What do I do? Hes never named his pack, and Ive never offered mine. Would he recognize me?

ValkyrieOmega: Alright. Tomorrow at ten?

NyxSovereign: Excellent. Until then. Its lateyou should rest.

ValkyrieOmega: I will. But how will I know its you?

NyxSovereign: Ill recognize you. Im certain of it.

ValkyrieOmega: Mmm. Now that sounds intriguing.

NyxSovereign: I agree. Goodnight.

The conversation ends. I lie back, staring at the shadowed ceiling. Excitement and nerves battle within me, but strongest of all is a kindling fire. The prospect of seeing him has burned away all weariness.

Slowly, I sit up again. I reach for my crossbody bag beside the bed and lean against the headboard. My hand finds what it seeks inside: a small vial of deep, violet liquid. Moonlight seeps through the blinds, painting silver stripes across my hands. I release a slow breath. As long as nothing triggers me, I should be fine.

Last year, just before the holiday break, a group of boys dared to make crude remarks about my twin, Madelina. Here is the difference between us: I may be provocative, reckless, unafraid to send a daring photo. Madelina is light where I am shadow; she is gentle and sensitive where I am hardened. I lost myself that day. My Lycan took the reins and I nearly killed one of them.

My father and I may clash, but I understand the terrifying power we hold. Its why I avoid commitment. Sooner or later, they all show that flicker of fearfear of me. I need someone who can withstand me. Someone strong enough to stand firm even when my control shatters. That is what I want.

I slip the vial back into the bag and curl beneath the duvet.

I am the Alpha Kings daughter. I will learn to master this. I have to just as he once did.

Chapter 4

Sienna's POV

The next morning, I slip from the cottage before the sun breaches the horizon. Most would hesitate to venture into the woods at this hour, but I know nothing here poses a greater threat than I do.

Dressed in black sweatpants and a sports bra, my trainers whisper against the damp earth as I move between the trees. The urge to shift pulls at my bones, but I resisttoo risky in daylight. I am nearly upon the cottage again when I halt mid-stride.

A scent arrests merich, complex, intoxicating. Crisp air, wild roses, and something elusive, unnamed. It summons a sudden, vivid memory: my family gathered around a summer barbecue, the air heavy with the perfume of cut grass and blooming flowers.

The scent of summer itself.

Someone is here. And the aura radiating from the clearing is unmistakably Alpha.

I surge up the path and through the gate. A man stands before my door, clad in dark trousers and a simple white shirt. He holds Lucia. And there is blooda bright, shocking crimson dripping from her paw, smeared across his hand.

Let her go! The snarl rips from my throat, my vision sharpening. I am before them in an instant.

Did he hurt her?

Easy, he says, his voice a low, husky timbre that freezes me in place. My heart hammers against my ribs; the fire in my eyes recedes as I force myself to focus. I found her tangled in the thornbushes.

He raises his free hand in a gesture of peace, allowing me to lift Lucia from his hold. She releases a pitiful mewl. I clutch her to my chest, using the moment to study him.

He is tallwell over six feetwith a lean frame that betrays solid muscle beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. His hair it is a striking, sun-gilded blond, falling in straight waves to his shoulders, framing a sharply defined face. And his eyesa cool, penetrating grey.

Damn. I have a noted weakness for blonds. But his sudden appearance here, now, sets every instinct on edge.

What are you doing out here? I demand, my gaze sweeping over him. His attire is too clean, too deliberate for a morning trek.

Passing through, he replies with a shrug. A charming, effortless smile touches his lips. I heard distressed meowing. Found her trapped. I assumed she belonged to whoever had moved in. I must admit, I didnt anticipate a werewolf. He shows me his palms, crosshatched with fresh, angry scratchesproof of his encounter with the thorns.

I arch a brow. My temper is quick, but my love for animalsfor Luciais absolute. She is my constant.

The property belongs to werewolves. Your surprise is unwarranted. I draw a steadying breath. I apologize for my reaction. Seeing the blood I was alarmed.

No apology needed. Your concern is natural. Im simply glad shes safe. His grey eyes hold mine. Im Zephyr.

Sienna, I offer, the name given reluctantly. I do not share myself with strangers.

Yet why does his name tug at some buried memory? It feels familiar, like an echo from a half-forgotten conversation. An Alpha, clearly. Strong. Do I know that name? I dare not ask for his pack or lineagesuch questions invite reciprocity.

You possess a deep mistrust of strangers, he observes, that smile returning, edged with something like amusement.

I value my privacy. I prefer to remain unobtrusive.

My mothers teachings urge me to offer aid for his scratches, but a stronger impulse wills him to leave. Let him go. Hes an Alpha; hell heal.

I unlock the door and step across the threshold.

I

Thank you! Goodbye! I move to close the door, but his foot slides forward, blocking it.

A thousand pardons, he says, not sounding sorry at all. But might I wash this blood away? Id rather not ruin the shirt.

The request is disarmingly plain. He did help Lucia. She meows again, and I glance down at her, scratching gently behind her ears.

It seems I must assist the inconveniently gorgeous intruder.

Come in. I believe I saw a first-aid kit.

I lead him to the kitchen, press a kiss to Lucias head, and set her on the table before rifling through the drawers. Speed is essential. The sooner he is tended to, the sooner he departs.

He moves to the sink, the water running as he rinses his hands. My attention snags on the flex of tendons in his forearms. I look away sharply, yanking open another drawer. The white kit box emerges. Relief.

I place it on the table, extracting two rolls of gauze. Quickly, I snip a length and begin to split it down the middle for my poor cats paw. She protests as I try to wrap the injury, squirming in my grip.

Lucia, behave, I chide softly.

Allow me, Zephyr offers. I acquiesce. His hands are already nearly healed, only the faintest pink lines remaining. So, what brings you to such a secluded spot at this time of year?

What suggests I only recently arrived? I counter, mirroring his light tone. Our eyes meet. He smirks, a strand of blond hair slipping over his shoulder as he holds Lucia with firm gentleness. The image is absurdly princely.

I would have known, he says, his voice dropping, if someone as striking as you lived here alone.

His gaze dips to my mouth. I look away, focusing on the tiny, fiddly bandage.

Flattering, considering Im drenched in sweat.

I hadnt noticed. His attention feels too heavy. You were saying? About the move?

Persistent.

I needed space from my father. He can be overbearing. I want to live on my own terms. The sigh escapes before I can stop it.

He releases Lucia. For a fleeting instant, something sharp and calculating gleams in his grey eyesthen it vanishes.

He opens his mouth to speak, but my phone chimes on the table between us. We both glance at it. The device lies closer to him. I see his gaze linger a heartbeat too long before I snatch it up.

Thank you for permitting me the use of your sink, he says, glancing around the room. His hand strokes Lucias head; she answers with a resonant purr. Its rare to encounter a she-wolf with a feline companion.

I am not a typical she-wolf.

Of that, he says, a slow smile forming, I have no doubt.

I scoop up Lucia and guide him back to the front door. I open it wide, offering a polished, dismissive smile.

Goodbye.

Until next time, Sienna. His gaze flicks once more to the phone in my hand. He gives a slight nod and steps out into the pale morning light.

Chapter 5

Sienna's POV

I close the door and press my back against it, exhaling slowly. Well, thats over. Thank the gods. I lift Lucia and look into her green eyes. Lets get you a treat. Mama isnt here, but Ill have you fixed up soon enough. Tell me, why is trouble your favorite hobby?

She replies with a soft meow, and I press my forehead to hers.

I understand. Youre just like me.

After placing food in her dish, I glance at my phone. Three notifications glow on the screen.

NyxSovereign: Cant believe Im actually about to meet

Grumpy Bear: Still expecting your call.

The last is from a music app.

I ignore my fathers message and open the chat with NyxSovereign. I need to locate the club and calculate the travel time. Preparations for tonight begin now.

A fitted black dress hugs my framelong sleeves, a boat neck in front, and a backless design strung together with delicate silver chains. I pair it with sharp black heels, smoky shadow around my eyes, and a slash of crimson on my lips. Silver hoops swing from my ears; rings adorn my fingers.

The bouncer at the club entrance gives me an appraising once-over, a smirk playing on his lips before he lifts the velvet rope. I arch a brow but step past him without comment.

If a wandering gaze expedites my entry, I wont complain.

Inside, strobing lights and a relentless bassline assault my senses. The air is thicka cloying mixture of sweat, spilled liquor, and expensive perfume. The olfactory overload burns slightly; too many bodies are pressed too close.

Retrieving my phone from a small shoulder bag, I try to block out the music hammering against my skull.

I am early. An hour remains. Tossing my hair back, I survey the room. Arriving early grants me time to fortify my nerves with a drink, though I know alcohol has little power over me.

Should I message him? Check his progress?

Absolutely not. That reeks of desperation.

Igniting the lingering stares, I glide to the bar and take a stool. My phone chimes.

A message from him.

NyxSovereign: I have to cancel. Ive reconsidered, and this feels like a mistake.

My stomach plummets. The words land like a physical slap, yet the sting cuts deeperbecause I had allowed anticipation to build.

Disappointment curdles into anger. I glare at the screen. He has made me feel foolish. I should have known better.

ValkyrieOmega: A mistake? It was your suggestion. Or have you forgotten?

NyxSovereign: I know. Something came up. Another time, perhaps.

Wow. Just fucking wow.

He stood me up.

ValkyrieOmega: Fine.

What else is there to say?

ValkyrieOmega: I wasnt particularly invested in meeting anyway.

What can I get for you?

I look up at the bartender. Three shots of vodka. Now.

Forget liquid courage. I need something to douse the fury simmering inside methe violent urge to drag him from behind that screen and make him regret his cowardice.

No amount of liquor will mend this, but it might grant me a few hours of numbness. Perhaps this is a blessing. Hes likely some pathetic fraud, using stolen photos, getting off on the images I foolishly sent.

Fuck.

I stare at the chat, half-expecting a follow-up, but the screen stays silent.

I set my phone down before I crush it. The bartender slides a tray bearing three shots, each crowned with lime. I drain them consecutively, sucking the tart wedges, forcing the anger down.

Another round.

It takes considerable alcohol to affect me, but I am determined to try.

My attention is suddenly drawn upward, pulled by an aura of immense potency entering my vicinity. I turn, scanning for the source, and my gaze lands on a stunning blond Alpha taking a seat further down the bar.

He is the embodiment of a forbidden fantasy. Towering at well over six feet, with tousled golden curls and a sharply defined jaw. His lips are a soft, distracting pink. A white button-down rests beneath a black jacket, paired with dark trousers. Even from here, his scent reaches mea crisp, icy breeze laced with cinnamon and spice. He smells of winter.

He is focused on his phone, ordering a drink from the bartender.

Why does he seem familiar? A moment passes before my eyes widen in recognition. He bears a striking resemblance to the man from my cottage this morningbut this one is broader, more rugged, all sharp edges where the other had a princely refinement.

His gaze snaps up and collides with mine. His expression remains impassive as it sweeps over me before he looks away.

Brothers? Perhaps twins. They could certainly pass for twins.

Is this venue somehow a gathering point for devastatingly attractive blond Alphas?

A bitter thought intrudes: What color is NyxSovereigns hair? I scowl, remembering his cowardice.

Bastard.

I order another round and empty the glasses before me.

Two hours later, I am still here. A foolish, stubborn part of me hopes he might still appear. I dont know why.

Even the imposing Alpha down the bar seems to be waiting for someone. He has stopped checking his phone; a simmering irritation radiates from him. Yet his attention keeps drifting back to me. It appears we have both been abandoned tonight.

I cant fathom why anyone would stand him up. I certainly wouldnt. I might tie him to the bed to ensure he never left.

I tilt my head, considering. A distraction would not be unwelcome. We have been trading glances for two hours. An Alpha of his caliber could likely handle me.

A slow smile touches my lips. He raises a brow in response. I hold his stare, letting my fingers trail down the column of my throat. A surge of satisfaction courses through me when he rises and begins walking toward me. Even his stride is predatory, controlled.

He takes the stool beside me. Hey. His voice is a low, husky rumble.

Damn.

He smells even more compelling up closea clean, sharp scent that cuts through the clubs stale atmosphere. I lick my reddened lips, my smirk turning inviting.

Hey.

Waiting for someone?

Not anymore. I shift to face him. His gaze drops to my crossed legs.

Same. His eyes glint with something fleeting, unreadable. Thats a significant number of vodka shots.

Nothing ever seems to get me drunk. I keep trying anyway. I laugh lightly, running a hand through my hair.

My leg brushes against his; the contact is electric. Shall we attempt to change that? he suggests, his tone layered with implication.

I like the sound of that. I stand, collecting my bag and phone. I dont look back as I move toward the side exit. I dont need to. I feel his gaze on me, his potent aura following as I slip my phone away.

Time for a different kind of diversion.

Chapter 6

Sienna's POV

I push through the double doors into a quieter hallway and glance back. Our eyes lock, a spark of raw intensity crackling between us. The pounding music fades to a dull throb. I offer him a faint, knowing smile before turning the corner and slipping into the women's restroom.

It's empty. Perfect.

My back meets the wall. Across the room, my reflection stares back from the mirrora woman I don't fully recognize. This isn't the face of an internal struggle. It's the cool, detached mask of someone who would do this: get recklessly intimate with a stranger in a public bathroom. I know her. She's my escape. A version of myself I surrender to, like tonight.

The door opens seconds later. I tilt my head to watch him enter.

"Interesting venue," he remarks, turning the lock. His gaze sweeps over me, a hunter assessing his claim. Then he closes the distance, not walking but prowling. A smile touches my lips, but before I can speak, his hands are on my hips, pulling me flush against him.

Yes. Just like that.

His palm slides up my bare back. I draw a sharp breath at the contactskin on skin. Anticipation sizzles across my nerves; desire burns low and bright inside me.

That same hand tangles in my hair. He grips a fistful, tilting my head back. Our eyes meet. His stormy grey gaze burns with a hunger that mirrors my own, holds emotions I can't decipher. My tongue traces my lower lip. I want to drown in whatever this is. His focus drops to my mouth. This silent, magnetic pull is overwhelming, and I crave it.

He says nothing, just presses me firmly against the wall. Our heartbeats hammer in unison. The heat from his body merges with mine, a combustible mixture threatening to ignite. The wait for his kiss is a sweet agony.

My hand finds his chest, tracing the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt before my finger hooks into his waistband.

"Kiss me," I murmur, tugging him closer by his belt until our bodies align. "I didn't come in here for a preview." My challenge hangs in the air. A low growl rumbles in his chestno Alpha enjoys being commanded. Yet it works. He leans in.

One hand cradles the nape of my neck. His scentcrisp winter air and spiceenvelops me. Then his lips are on mine.

The faint, sweet trace of his cocktail lingers. A moan escapes me as he claims my mouth, a kiss so thorough and dominating it threatens to incinerate me. Pleasure licks through my veins like flame.

Thoughts dissolve. There is only the slide of his tongue, exploring, tasting. Our tongues clash in a battle for dominance I have no hope of winning. My head spins; I kiss him back until I feel lightheaded.

Alcohol may not affect me, but I am intoxicated by his touch. My hands roam over him as I deepen the kiss, a raw, carnal instinct surging up, demanding control. I stop fighting it.

I grab his jacket, pull it from his shoulders, and let the expensive leather fall to the floor. His hand slips beneath my dress just as my tongue ventures into his mouth. He welcomes it, tangling with me before sucking gently, drawing another soft moan from my lips.

He's only kissed me, and I am already unraveling. My body burns. His hand kneads my backside; the scent of my own arousal thickens the air around us. He groans, pressing his hardened length against me. A fierce want grips meto free him, to taste him. My nails dig into his arm to stop myself.

God, he's irresistible.

"Fuck," I whimper as his hand finds the space between my thighs. A soft groan escapes him in response as his fingers begin a slow, torturous massage over the damp silk of my underwear.

He teases, his touch maddeningly gentle through the fabric. I sense his restraint, and it fray my nerves. A low growl vibrates in my throat as I yank him closer by his shirt.

"You might be the most impatient woman I've ever met," he whispers, his voice a seductive rasp.

"Then stop treating me like I'll break," I snarl back. "Fuck me like you mean it. Like you hate me."

"I doubt you could handle that, little vixen. Besides, it would spoil the anticipation." His eyes gleam. "How about you quiet that pretty mouth and focus on what my fingers are doing?"

I glare, but the dark promise in his gaze only fuels the fire.

He still doesn't give me what I crave, his fingers tracing maddening circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Suddenly, he withdraws his hand. In one rough motion, he spins me to face the mirror, pulls both my wrists behind my back, and pins them effortlessly in one large hand.

He sweeps my hair over one shoulder, his grip on my wrists tightening. In the glass, I watch his reflection. His eyes gleam; a devious, ghost of a smirk plays on his lips as his free hand begins a slow exploration of my body.

Every touch leaves a trail of sparks. He cups my breast, his lips tracing the line of my neck. His strength is evident in his effortless hold, in the pressure of his touch as his hand glides lower.

Even through the dress, his rough fingers scorch my skin. They ignite something primal within me. I gasp as they finally graze over the soaked silk covering my core.

He brushes lightly over the sensitive peak, coaxing a moan from me, then continues his torturous play. My earlier anger melts away, replaced by a hyper-awareness of every glide of his fingertips along my waist.

My eyes flutter half-shut as I watch us in the mirror. I can only see the top of his blond head. He towers over me, making me seem small, captive.

Every touch is a brand. He teases just beneath the waistband of my panties. A deep, aching throb answers him as I lean back into his solid frame. He draws invisible patterns on my skin. How can this gentle torment unravel me so completely?

It's overwhelming.

I'm enjoying this far more than I should.

This was supposed to be a meaningless encounter.