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It struck a chord deep in Breighly’s soul, because regardless how she felt about the role, she would never be Alpha.

She inhaled a breath. “The only thing we are about to play is me smacking my fist into your nose.” She smiled innocently. “Step aside, dickwad, and I won't make you cry.”

He chuckled, a deep rumbling coming from his chest. “Why do you have so much fire in your belly?”

Ignoring how intrigued he sounded, irritation grew in her veins. “Are you going to be stupid enough to continue talking, or are you going to let me inside like a good little guard?”

His warm brown eyes roamed her face again, moving down her bare arms and over the dress that clung to her body. She straightened her spine, knowing what he saw.

“Get a good enough look?” she cut out sharply. “Emara knows I am coming.” Breighly held up the present, feeling the air thin in her lungs at his obnoxious grin. “I don’t need to be kept at the door for you to check out how stunning I look tonight. I have things to do.”

His nostrils flared, reminding her of that enticing, silver nose ring. “Is that a present for me?” His jaw hardened into a maddening smile and she was torn between kissing him or punching his mouth.

As they stood, gazes locked in on one another, Breighly noticed that the hunter’s intricate ink-work travelled all the way up his neck and into his short, russet-brown hair. It was clear he had tried to cover it, but Breighly could see it peeking out from under the rim of his grey guard regalia.

She had a momentary lapse of weakness as a forgotten memory leaked through her barriers. She’d flicked her way across his tattooed neck with her tongue, drawing primal, guttural moans from him.

She swallowed all the feelings of desire down.

“Get a good enough look?” He looked like danger; his features were strong and prominent when he was not laughing. His tunic was tight and fitted to his colossal physique. A band of weapons around his hips and the badge of his clan gleamed in the light of the hallway. She didn’t want her eyes to hover too long on what crest lay on his chest, because she simply didn’t care. Shouldn’t care.

He was a cocky prick.

She strolled over to him, pushing out her chest and relaxing her shoulders. His eyes followed every movement her body made as she walked. Breighly knew what she was doing, and she would never be ashamed to use her body to her advantage. It gave her great pleasure to see a warrior of his size and strength bend a little, all because she had a pair of breasts.

“As much as I would love to see you in deep red lingerie…” She clicked her tongue, dangling the box in front of him. His face went the same colour of the lacey garments inside. “I don’t think they are your size, sweetie.” She winked at him. “If you don’t let me in, I will make you try them on for me instead, and we can see how Torin Blacksteel reacts to you wearing them.”

“Emara!” The warrior called out, not fully returning to his natural colour yet. He knocked on her door twice, warning her that he was about to enter, and then opened it. “You have a very promiscuous and persistent little wolf to see you.”

He shot her a grin.

She growled back.

“Breighly,” Emara said, coming from somewhere in her room in a champagne-coloured robe, her hair in loose waves around her shoulders. “Let her in, Artem, I told you she was coming.”

Artem. That was his name. Artem.

I told you she was coming.

Breighly’s head snapped towards Artem. He raised one eyebrow and winked. He’d known she was coming, that’s why he had known it was her strutting around the corner.

Asshole.

“I come bearing gifts,” Breighly said, ignoring Artem and presenting the box to Emara. The Empress’ face turned three different shades of pink.

“Can I ask—” Artem started to say.

“No,” both Breighly and Emara cut him off.

But he continued anyway, sparking a little more annoyance into the fire that was already burning in Breighly’s stomach.

“Why are you getting special presents of lingerie delivered by a wolf? Maybe, as your guard, I should be vetting these boxes. Just in case, I should—”

“You told him what was in the box?” Emara’s eyes triggered wide. Her face had now skipped the pink on the colour chart and was basking in a deep sea of red.

“He wanted to wear them himself,” Breighly said. “Couldn’t wait to get them on.”

“I said nothing of the sort.” Artem looked over at Emara, his mouth open, and then over to Breighly. She gave him a wink of her own. He clamped his lips into a tight smile. “However, wolf, maybe if we ever get the chance to give round five a go, you might be able to change my mind.” His eyes were steady and warm on her face, like he had no shame to admit he would do anything with her. A charge of energy rushed over Breighly. “I always say you should try everything once.” A smirk appeared on his face.