Chapter 8 Natasha

I looked up, following the little one's gaze, and my eyes met Garrett's, those dark brown eyes with flecks of honey, as he made his way back from the buffet, carrying his plate to the table.

For an instant, my heart stopped. I felt a sharp, familiar heat on my left breast, right where Garrett had bitten me last night, swept up in the passion of our embrace. By morning, the mark had already begun to heal, much to my disappointment.

Every mark Garrett left on me would soon fade, erased by the rapid healing that came so naturally to our kind. I should have felt relieved, but deep down, the Consort inside me ached to be claimed by him. To be marked by Garrett. But I already carried someone else's mark, and nothing could change that. He could bite me a hundred times and it still wouldn't erase anything.

All that remained from our night together was this burning love inside us both-a secret that grew heavier with each passing hour.

I could see the longing in Garrett's eyes too, the same unbearable fire. But he masked his feelings quickly when Tammie's twin slipped her hand from her father's grip and ran to her grandfather, laughing with the pure joy only children knew.

Reluctantly, Garrett pulled back his aura, that feverish energy he directed at me, and broke our gaze. Instead, he gave his full attention to the little one calling out, who begged him to sit close, not across from me.

Garrett was a wonderful father and an even better grandfather. Looking at the family around him, I couldn't help but wonder what our children might have looked like, if fate had allowed it.

A wave of sorrow washed over me. Four years ago, I got pregnant with Brent's child... but then we had a terrible fight and I lost the baby. Under the table, my hand moved to my lower belly, where that ache would always linger.

Since then, my cycle had never returned to normal. Brent and I tried again and again to have another child, but nothing ever came of it. Later, the doctor told me I was infertile. Maybe I just wasn't meant to be a mother.

In a way, it might have been for the best, considering how violent Brent could be. I wasn't sure I wanted to bring a child into a world as harsh as the one I had known growing up.

A shiver ran through me when I heard Garrett's deep voice, warm and accented, as he watched his grandson devour chocolate pancakes, the boy's little face smeared with chocolate. He held the boy on his lap, sharing his plate and wiping away the sticky mess with gentle hands. For a moment, all I could think about was how he would have given me such beautiful children-if only life had allowed us that chance.

Suddenly, discomfort twisted in my chest.

My mark. It started to burn. Then itch-sharp and relentless.

Garrett had blocked it last night, but that had only been temporary. Now, as if midnight had come and gone and the spell had lifted, the tattoo on my neck had awakened once more.

My shoulders slumped under the weight of sudden sadness. It felt like something heavy had settled on me, dragging me down. Bitterness filled my throat, and the bite of crepe I'd just taken lodged there, hard to swallow. I had to chase it down with a quick sip of orange juice.

When Brent first gave me this tattoo, seven years ago, I'd been thrilled. I thought I was about to be joined with my Alpha, just like in the stories. Brent's crew was another motorcycle club, much like my father's. But I truly believed he was different. He used to talk endlessly about his family's roots in Colombia, where so many ancient Alpha clans could trace their beginnings. Even his gang's tattoo had a history-it came from Nahuatl, the old language of the South American tribes.

It was a glyph.

The glyph of Miquiztli, the symbol for death, from the same land where Garrett's ancestors had come from-just like Brent's, though Brent had been born in the States, unlike Garrett.

Brent always told me that in his homeland, death wasn't something to fear. It was simply the end of one cycle and the start of another. Just like when our alpha gene finally activated and everything about us changed. He said it was a kind of rebirth.

So when Brent tattooed it on the back of my neck himself, mixing his own blood into the ink to mark me, what I really felt was death.

I was dead to my old life. I belonged to him now. I believed I was being reborn into something new, that this mark would bind us even closer. And it did.

But this living mark-this tattoo-also allowed me to see the truth. It revealed the deviant Alpha hiding beneath his charming mask and empty promises.

After he marked me, even before we were married, Brent started to reveal who he truly was.

All the things he demanded from me -no, ordered me to do for him- if Garrett ever knew, he would never forgive it. He valued loyalty and honesty above everything.

I dropped my gaze to my plate. There could never be anything real between Garrett and me. I would be lying to myself to think otherwise.

Last night was just a moment of passion. It could never happen again.

We'd both had too much to drink. That was all.

I told myself it was best to pretend nothing happened. I hoped Garrett would think the same. I even thought if I slipped out this morning, we could go on as if none of it had ever taken place. But just one glance at Garrett told me he was not about to forget a thing. He had no plans to return to the old, careful distance we kept. I could feel the difference already.

And if he ever decided to challenge Brent, to go to him openly?

I closed my eyes partway. No. I couldn't even allow myself to imagine that.

Garrett might be a divine Alpha, and learning that last night had shaken me to my core. But... Brent was something darker. If Garrett ever dared to challenge him-if it ever came to a duel...

That was exactly what happened with one of the Alphas from my father's pack back in Miami. He set his sights on another man's Consort- a woman already marked as someone else's fated mate. So he challenged her husband to a duel, and poor Sigrid Hinchcliffe had to watch the man she loved die right before her, a bullet straight through his head.

Our kind might be strong, but a bullet is still a bullet. Death is final, especially when the ammunition is soaked in Morthys nectar-a rare plant from South America that strips Alphas of their ability to heal or use any of their gifts.

After her husband died, the mark of her destined mate began to fade, and within a few weeks, it disappeared completely. The Alpha who won took her as his own, making the claim in front of the entire pack. He didn't even bother with a proper ritual tattoo. No- he bit her right there, in front of everyone, like a wild animal.

I still felt sorry for Sigrid. She was forced into marriage by order of the pack leader-my father-and the new Alpha was even more brutal, even more twisted than Brent could ever be. And my own husband, Brent, was never the type to just let things go. So there it was.

Back then, I promised myself that, no matter what, I would never end up like Sigrid. I swore I would leave as soon as I was old enough and find a new pack-one that wasn't twisted or cruel. Yet look at me now, I thought bitterly. I married a deviant Alpha myself, just as I'd once been the daughter of a clan leader who was no better.

I was so young, so full of hope, when I escaped Miami to start over in Orlando. I found a simple job as a waitress. Life felt peaceful for two whole years. In my innocence, I thought I'd left everything behind. I really believed my father's pack-the deviant Alphas, that entire world-was part of my past.

That was when Brent and Garrett entered my life.

Garrett-a singer, a national icon, with that voice that could melt anyone. And Brent, the rebellious bad boy who seemed to have a good heart. Or so I convinced myself. He used to talk about the pack he was building in Orlando, and the garage he dreamed of opening. He was always bragging about being Garrett's cousin. Or so I thought at the time. He claimed he was the one who bought Garrett his first bike, that he would help him open his garage too. The way he spoke, it sounded like Garrett vouched for him, so I believed it. I was foolish enough to think that, with a cousin as respected as Garrett Cortez, Brent's pack would be different. Not like the old biker gangs. With an Alpha like Garrett, someone whose authority lifted others up, not tore them down, I thought things would be better.

That was how I always felt around Garrett. He was the first Alpha I'd ever met who never tried to belittle or humiliate me. Every time he came to the restaurant, he treated me with genuine kindness and always left generous tips. Even as he was becoming a national star, he stayed humble and approachable- never acted like someone above everyone else.

He used to ask about how I was adjusting to life in Orlando, or about my dreams of becoming a nutritionist and opening my own macrobiotic restaurant.

He also never hesitated to share bits of his own life with me. He would tell me about the album he was working on, hum a few lines of a song he'd just written, or share funny stories from his early days as a performer.

But no matter what, there was always something special about Garrett-a magnetic presence, that unmistakable star charisma. It didn't help that we were constantly interrupted at the restaurant by his groupies begging for autographs. Bruce Clarkson, his ever-present friend, often had to run interference with the paparazzi every time Garrett dropped by.

I'd seen firsthand on social media how ruthless his fans could be toward any woman who happened to be part of Garrett's circle or even just spotted with him. The comments could get ugly fast. Bruce once confided in me that one of Garrett's more obsessive fans actually threw eggs at a young singer his manager was trying to promote, just because she had attended a few public events by his side.

Even though Garrett lived simply, his life was anything but uncomplicated. Whoever he chose as his Consort would always be in the public eye. And now that I knew about his divine ancestry, the distance between us felt even greater. Even if I somehow managed to leave Brent, there was no way a divine Alpha like Garrett would ever marry the daughter of a disgraced pack leader.

No one in the community would ever accept someone like me.

I was not worthy of him. Just being near him felt like I was sullying something pure.

No, for someone like me, Garrett had always been-and would always remain- nothing more than an unattainable dream.