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I feel my control slipping, the wolf inside me clawing to get out. My hands shake with the effort of not transforming right here in their fancy office.

"Ruby, please," Percy says, stepping between us. "Let's be reasonable. I've worked hard on these new designs specifically with your concerns in mind. It's not perfect, but it's a compromise."

“A compromise?” I laugh, the sound harsh even to my own ears. “A compromise would be not building on our land at all!”

“That’s not an option,” Hamilton says flatly.

“Then neither is my cooperation.” I turn to leave, but Hamilton’s next words freeze me in place.

“Your cooperation isn’t required, Ms. Wolfhart. Though I wonder what your pack would think if they knew how… intimately you’ve been discussing these matters with Percy.”

I turn slowly to face him, ice flooding my veins.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Merely observing that your objectivity might be questioned.” Hamilton’s smile is all teeth. “Sleeping with the enemy isn’t generally considered effective activism .”

“Hamilton!” Percy hisses. “That’s enough.”

Rage wars inside me. “You son of a bitch.”

“I believe the term you’re looking for is ‘son of a sow,’” Hamilton corrects with mock politeness.

I’ve never wanted to rip someone’s throat out more in my entire life. “This isn’t over.”

Hamilton nods. “Though I do think this meeting is.”

I storm toward the door, shaking with fury. Percy calls after me, but I ignore him. It’s Hamilton’s eyes I feel boring into my back as I leave, Hamilton’s smug smile that makes my blood boil.

As I reach the reception area, I hear footsteps behind me. Heavy ones.

Hamilton.

“Ms. Wolfhart,” he calls. “A word in private.”

I don’t slow down, heading for the stairwell instead of waiting for the elevator. The last thing I need is to be trapped in a small space with him.

But apparently, that’s exactly what’s about to happen.

* * *

I take the stairs two at a time, aiming for the next floor, when I hear the stairwell door open and slam shut behind me.

I’m about to take the exit when I hear it lock with a mechanical click .

Mother fucker.

I whirl around, storming back up the stairs in a fury.

Hamilton is standing there, looking far too pleased with himself as he tucks his phone back into his suit pocket.

“You locked the exits?” I snap.

He raises one eyebrow. “Security override. Didn’t want you wandering off before we had our… chat.”

“Unlock it. Now,” I growl.

“No.” He smirks.

I’m trapped in this concrete stairwell. Just me and the pig who’s destroying everything my pack holds sacred.

I back up against the wall because I need space between us before I do something stupid.

Like claw his smug face.

Or worse.

“What do you want, Hamilton?” I snarl, my voice bouncing off the walls.

“Clarity,” he says, taking a step closer.

His scent fills the enclosed space—expensive, woodsy, and infuriatingly appealing.

“I want to understand what game you’re playing with my brother.”

“No game. Just trying to save my pack’s home from being turned into a playground for the rich.”

“By sleeping with the architect?” His eyebrow arches in perfect condescension. “Interesting strategy.”

“Fuck you.” The words come out as a growl, low and dangerous.

“Such eloquence.” He takes another step.

Now we’re close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his massive frame. Hamilton’s always been the biggest of the brothers—thicker, stronger, more dominant.

“Did you think getting Percy to redesign a few buildings would stop this development? Or were you just gathering intelligence between the sheets?”

My hand moves before I can think, lashing out to slap that smug look off his face. But Hamilton is faster than he looks. His fingers wrap around my wrist, stopping the blow midair. His grip is like iron, firm enough to restrain, but not enough to hurt.

“Careful,” he warns, voice dropping an octave. “Assaulting a Porkwell in his own building would give me every reason to call security.”

“Let. Go.” I twist my wrist, but he holds tight.

“Not until you tell me what you’re really after.”

"Is it so hard to believe I actually just wanted to fuck him?"

We’re standing too close now. I can see the small flecks of gold in his dark eyes, count the stubble along his jaw. My wolf senses pick up his heartbeat—faster than it should be for someone so seemingly in control. There’s something else, too, mixing with his cologne.

The unmistakable scent of arousal.

Oh.

Hamilton isn’t just angry.

He’s turned on.

And horrifyingly, disgustingly, my body is responding in kind.

“I’m after saving Wolfstone,” I say, but my voice has lost some of its edge. “Nothing more.”

“Bullshit.” His grip on my wrist relaxes slightly, his thumb moving in a small circle against my pulse point. “You want something from us. From me.”

“I want you to go to hell.”

His laugh is deep, rumbling. “You want something, alright. I can smell it on you, Wolf.”

Damn these heightened senses. Damn my body’s betrayal. Damn Hamilton Porkwell and his ability to see right through me.

“So are you,” I snap, but I don’t pull away. I should, but I don’t.

“Am I?” His free hand comes up to brush a strand of hair from my face, the touch feather-light and completely at odds with the tension crackling between us. “Tell me you’re not curious. Tell me you haven’t wondered.”

“Wondered what?”

“What would it be like? With me instead of Percy.”

That’s when I realize… Hamilton is jealous. “You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re lying.” His hand slides to the back of my neck, firm and possessive. “You’ve thought about it. Just like I’ve thought about you, sprawled across my bed instead of his.”

I should knee him in the groin. I should shift right here and tear his throat out. Before I can finish my thought, Hamilton surges forward, his lips crushing against mine, and instead of tearing away, my traitorous body clings to him, matching his fiery passion.

Hamilton responds instantly, a growl of victory rumbling in his chest as he backs me against the wall. His kiss is nothing like Percy’s careful exploration. It’s an invasion, brutal and demanding, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth as his body pins mine against the cold concrete.

I bite his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. He hisses, but doesn’t pull away. Instead, his hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back to expose my throat. His teeth—blunt, human, but no less dangerous—scrape along my jugular.

“Fucking wolf,” he mutters against my skin. “Driving me crazy for months.”

“Shut up,” I gasp, clawing at his suit jacket, tearing it open with zero concern for what I assume is a multi-thousand-dollar piece of fabric. “Just shut up.”

His hand leaves my hair to grab my ass, lifting me against the wall. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his waist; the position pressing the hard length of him against my core, separated by layers of clothing that suddenly feel absolutely intolerable.

“I hate you,” I pant, as his teeth find the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder. “I hate you so much.”

“The feeling’s mutual.” His hands are under my shirt now, rough and possessive against my skin. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t wanted to fuck you senseless since the first time you stormed into my office, all righteous fury and wild eyes.”

His crude words send a shock of heat straight to my core. This is wrong on so many levels.

He’s the enemy.

He’s Percy’s brother.

He’s everything I’m fighting against.

And yet, I can’t stop myself from grinding against him, seeking friction where I need it most.

Hamilton’s fingers find the clasp of my bra, snapping it open with practiced ease. Then his mouth is on my breast, teeth grazing my nipple. I cry out; the sound echoing in the stairwell, reminding me where we are—a semi-public space.

The thought should cool my ardor.

It doesn’t.

It makes everything more intense, more urgent.

“Someone could come in,” I manage to say, even as my hands work frantically at his belt.

“It’s locked.” His voice is animal-rough as he yanks my jeans down over my hips. “Nobody will see the mighty wolf conservationist getting fucked by the big bad developer.”

I should be outraged. Instead, I’m soaking wet, desperate for him in a way that defies all logic and self-respect.

“You’re the worst,” I gasp as his fingers find me, stroking through slick heat.

“And you’re dripping for me.” His smile is pure predator.

I don’t answer. Can’t answer.

His fingers are inside me now, thick and insistent, curling to find spots that make my vision blur. My claws—not metaphorical this time—extend slightly, pricking through his shirt to the skin beneath.

“Careful, wolf,” he warns, but the danger in his voice only makes me wilder.

I manage to get his pants open, freeing his large cock—so thick and hard it’s intimidating in a way that makes my mouth water. I reach between us to stroke him, my fingers unable to meet around his girth. Satisfaction thrums through me when his own rhythm falters and a deep groan escapes his lips.

His fingers withdraw from me, and I whimper at the loss before I can stop myself. He smirks, bringing those same fingers to his mouth and licking them clean while maintaining eye contact. It’s the most obscene thing I’ve ever seen, and it nearly makes me come on the spot.

“Sweet,” he says, voice like gravel. “With a bite. Just like I imagined.”

He guides his massive, throbbing cock to my entrance. If I wasn’t so wet for him right now, I would worry that it wouldn’t fit. For a moment, we pause there, on the precipice of something irreversible. Hamilton’s eyes lock with mine, suddenly serious.

“Say it,” he demands. “Say you want me.”

“I want you,” I admit, the words both surrender and victory. “Now fuck me before I change my mind.”