Chapter 1 No.1

Delilah POV

Pain. That was the first thing that registered-a splitting headache that felt like a phantom echo in my temples.

I groaned, shifting on the mattress that felt like a cloud, far too soft to be the lumpy bed I shared with Jaden. My movement sent a ripple of sensation through my body, a lingering haze of unfamiliarity that brought a sudden, sharp clarity to my mind.

Memories of the Gala flashed behind my eyes like a broken film reel. The champagne that tasted too sweet. The strange, dizzying warmth that had coiled in my stomach. And then... a presence. Overwhelming and absolute.

I froze.

A profound weight settled in the air around me, the undeniable proximity of another person pinning me in place more effectively than any physical touch. The heat radiating from the body behind me was like lying next to a furnace. But it was the scent that truly paralyzed me.

Sandalwood, storm, and musk.

It was thick, intoxicating, and commanded obedience. My inner wolf, usually a subdued presence after years of Jaden's cold indifference, was currently purring. She was at peace. A deep, soulful peace that I had never experienced in my life.

Mate, she whispered, her voice dripping with longing.

Panic, cold and sharp, pierced through the haze of the bond. I scrambled away from the oppressive heat, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I fell off the bed, landing on the plush carpet with a soft thud, and scrambled backward until my back hit the wall.

The room was massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the city skyline, still slumbering under the grey light of dawn. But my eyes locked onto the nightstand.

There, next to a platinum Rolex that probably cost more than my life, was a notepad. The embossed gold crest at the top made my blood run cold.

The Mcclain Citadel.

I stopped breathing.

My night had been spent in the company of a stranger. A Mcclain.

Jaden was a Mcclain, albeit a lesser cousin on the fringes of the main lineage. If this man was his relative-a cousin, an uncle, or god forbid, someone high up in the Pack hierarchy-I was dead. Adultery was frowned upon, but betraying the Mcclain bloodline? That was a death sentence.

I looked at the man on the bed. He was sleeping on his stomach, the sheet settling over him, his presence filling the silent room with a heavy, powerful atmosphere. Even in sleep, he radiated an aura of absolute dominance that made the air in the room feel dense.

I had to leave. Now.

I grabbed my silver dress from the floor, my hands shaking so badly I could barely pull it over my head. The silk was a mess of wrinkles, carelessly cast aside, but it would have to do.

My eyes darted back to the man. He hadn't moved.

I couldn't just leave. If he woke up and remembered... if he came looking for me...

I needed to make him hate me. I needed to turn this from a fated encounter into something trivial. Something insulting. Something an Alpha would never admit to.

I opened my clutch. My wallet was thin. I pulled out my pen, my hand trembling. Money was not enough of an insult; indifference was the sharper blade.

I tore a sheet off the notepad and wrote, my handwriting jagged with fear.

Don't flatter yourself.

It was the ultimate insult. Reducing a high-ranking wolf's night to a mere footnote, a moment easily experienced and easily discarded.

I placed the note on the nightstand, suppressing the whimper of my wolf who was clawing at my chest, begging me to stay, to crawl back into bed with him.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to the air, to him, to my wolf.

Then I turned and ran. I didn't look back as the elevator doors slid shut, sealing my fate.

Carter POV

The moment the elevator doors chimed shut, my eyes snapped open.

The room was silent, but the scent of her lingered-vanilla and fear. It was fading, and the loss of it felt like a physical blow to my chest.

I sat up, the sheet falling away. My skin still buzzed with the electricity of her touch. For the first time in years, the constant, maddening noise of the Pack in my head had been silenced. She was the only thing that had ever quieted the storm in my blood.

And she had run.

My grey eyes shifted to the nightstand.

There was a note.

A low growl started deep in my chest, vibrating through the silent room. I reached out and snatched the piece of paper.

Don't flatter yourself.

The growl erupted into a snarl that shook the glass of water on the table.

She thought she could dismiss me? Me? The Alpha King of the Blackwood Pack? She thought she could leave a scrap of paper as if my time, my intensity, was something negligible, a fleeting moment to be mocked and forgotten?

I crushed the paper in my fist, my claws extending, shredding the expensive stationery into confetti.

The insult burned, hot and violent. But beneath the anger, there was something else. Something darker.

Possessiveness.

She had marked me with her scent, calmed my storm, and then dared to insult my honor to cover her tracks.

I closed my eyes, reaching out into the void of the Pack link.

"Scott."

My Gamma answered instantly, his mental voice sharp with alertness. "Alpha?"

I looked at the empty side of the bed, the sheets still rumpled from her shape.

"Pull the security footage from the penthouse floor. Now."

"Is there a threat, Alpha?"

I stood up, the power of my aura flooding the room, cracking the crystal glass on the nightstand.

"No," I replied, my voice a deadly calm that promised consequences. "There is a guest who left in a hurry. Look into the woman who just left my room. I need to know who she is."