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Chapter One

L ILA WINTER

I can’t breathe.

My hand clutches my chest, trying to calm the wild thrashing of my heart, but it does nothing to calm me down.

My lungs feel tight, my vision blurring with tears.

The sounds of skin slapping against skin echo into the room.

Grunts. Moans. Reckless gasps of pleasure.

They all hang in the air like a guillotine blade, slicing through my heart and tearing me apart over and over.

The scent of their sweat, his betrayal, and my bitter tears strangle my throat. And yet, I don’t move.

Because if I move, if I take a single step forward, I will collapse.

Julian, my Julian, the man I have loved for years, is in our bed with another woman.

No. Not my Julian.

The man I thought I knew and loved is nothing but a stranger right now.

And yet, I stay. I stay because some part of me, some pathetic, desperate part, still wants to believe this isn’t real.

Julian grips her hair, pulls her head back, and presses a lingering kiss to her shoulder. The same way he did to me.

The woman moans, basking in his attention. The same way I did.

"Oh, Julian…w-what about your girlfriend?"

I freeze. My wolf stirs inside me, ears pricked. A part of me clings to foolish hope that he will say my name with regret.

That he will push her away, realize this is all a mistake, run to me and beg for forgiveness.

But instead…

"Lila was just a way to pass time. She was available, so I made her mine. I’ll be damned if I let my uncle win the Alpha position. If I’m going to be the next Alpha of the Blackwood pack, I need a queen who can actually ensure that."

Something inside me shatters.

The pain sears through my chest, climbs up my spine, and spreads through every inch of my body. My wolf howls, broken inside me like I am, but it does nothing to stop the devastation ripping me apart.

Julian doesn’t stop.

“Julian, are you saying…”

“I’m going to marry you,” he murmurs, his lips pressed against her neck.

He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t regret fucking me over. He’s already moved on.

I summon the last shred of strength in my body and with my dignity already in the mud, I run.

I don’t know if Julian sees me leave.

I don’t know if he knows I heard everything.

All I know is, I can never go back.

And I’ll never forgive him.

Maybe that would explain why I find myself in this bar—one of the rare werewolf-friendly places in the city, hidden in plain sight from humans but known in our circles for being the place for the best hookups.

The neon glow of “The Rusty Nail” sign pulses with a sickly yellow light, reflecting off the tears on my cheeks.

The whiskey burns a path down my throat, but it does nothing to stop the feeling of betrayal still raging inside me.

The world behind me buzzes with chatter, but to me? It sounds like static to my ears.

I stare at the amber liquid in my glass, more tears slipping free.

I came from nothing, a street rat who worked her way to the top to get what she wanted and all for what? To be used? To be discarded? To hear the man I gave everything to, say I was just a means for him to pass the time?

The pain is suffocating.

I tip my glass back and finish the drink in one swallow. It doesn’t help numb the pain.

The bartender, a burly man with weary eyes, watches me with a mixture of pity and annoyance. “Another one, sweetheart?”

I force a smile. It’s weak, but it’s all I can manage, “I want the whole bottle.”

He hesitates, like he’s about to tell me no man is worth drinking myself into oblivion over. He’s probably right but I never hear his words.

Because a chill rolls down my spine.

It’s not the kind that makes you shiver, it’s the kind that warns, that awakens. A slow curling heat spreads in my chest, throbbing, consuming, and burning. It feels foreign yet familiar, as if my mind recognizes something my soul hasn’t.

And then I feel it.

A presence so strong, it curls around my body like an invisible tether, powerful and dominant.

The air shifts. The noise in the bar fades.

My pulse stutters, then slams into overdrive.

I lift my head.

And I see him.

He’s a figure in the shadows, standing at the far end of the bar. He’s half-shrouded in the dim light, yet the world itself seems to bend and kneel around him, almost as if he doesn’t exist on the same plane as the rest of us.

He’s tall. Broad shoulders stretch beneath a dark, fitted jacket, and his stance is relaxed but alert, almost like a predator who knows he doesn’t need to chase because his prey will come to him.

The air around him crackles, the quiet storm of energy accompanying him making my breath hitch in my throat.

And his eyes?

Dark. Piercing. Smoldering.

They aren’t just looking at me. They are devouring me, stripping me bare, unraveling something deep inside me I didn't think could unravel. A shudder rips through me, heat pooling in my stomach as his gaze drags over my flushed face and my parted lips.

He tilts his head slightly and the action makes my chest feel too tight.

Goddess, he’s handsome. Sharp jawline, high cheekbones, lips that look like sin itself. He has short, dark hair that looks a little bit tousled, like he ran his fingers through it.

My fingers itch at the thought of running them through his hair.

I can’t look away.

I don’t want to.

And he knows it too, because his lips curve slightly. A smirk? A challenge? A promise? I have no clue which, but awareness slams through me and something ancient roars in my chest.

It’s him?

He’s the one.

My stomach flips.

Oh Goddess.

My thighs press together.

It barely even registers that he’s moving toward me in slow, deliberate steps.

And by the time it does, he is already in front of me, so close I can feel his warmth.

He leans in.

I close my eyes, lips parting slightly, hoping for a kiss.

Instead, a deep voice rumbles near my ear.

"Her drinks are on me."

My eyes snap open.

Humiliation creeps up my neck when I realize he wasn’t leaning in to kiss me but handing the bartender his credit card.

I stiffen. “I don’t need you t-to pay for my drinks. I can handle myself.”

His strong arms cage me in, palms flat against the bar, his chest just inches from mine. His scent—woodsmoke, cedar and something wilder—fills my lungs, sinks into my skin and brands me from the inside out.

"You’ve had enough to drink, wild one." His voice is smooth, yet dangerously firm. "It’s time to go home."

Home? The same home I left Julian at because he was fucking a woman? That home?

I shake my head, my voice raw. “I can’t. He—he betrayed me. I was just a game to him.”

“Then he’s a fool.” His voice is thick with a possessiveness that both thrills and terrifies me.

And it takes me exactly one second to make a reckless decision.

I press my hands against his chest and with a desperate gaze, I whisper, “Make me forget. Please.”

His breath hitches.

Then, something shifts in his gaze, something dark, something dangerous.

“Be careful what you ask for, wild one.”

And before I can second-guess myself and take up his offer of going home, his lips crash onto mine.

This is a bad idea.

But I don't think that when he buckles me into his truck and drives me to his penthouse.

The moment the penthouse door clicks shut, he has me pinned against it, his body pressed against mine as he takes my lips.

There’s nothing gentle about how he pries my lips open, taking what is his.

There’s nothing slow in the way my body melts into his arms like I have always belonged here.

Like I belong to him.

I was Julian’s girlfriend a few hours ago, but right now, an undeniable bond thrums between us like a living thing consuming all my senses. Everything I think, feel, and desperately need are all about this stranger.

And he must know it too, because he lifts me off the floor effortlessly, my legs instinctively wrapping around his torso as he walks around in the dimly lit space.

I barely pay attention to the surroundings, because all I can focus on is the feel of his fingers digging into my thighs and the way his breath comes out in rough pants against my skin.

Can he feel it too? The way my heart is pounding, the way everything inside me is swirling and anticipating being with him?

My back meets the edge of the bed as he sets me there, then his dark eyes rake over me, almost as if he’s drinking in my features and committing them to memory.

I should be hesitant.

I don’t know his name.

I don’t know who he is.

But then there’s no denying that his touch undoes me in a way Julian’s touch never did.

“Tell me you want this, wild one.” His fingers skim up my bare arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

I don’t hesitate in answering him even for a second.

“I do.”

That’s all the green light he needs, because he tugs my dress over my head, his gaze darkening as the fabric pools at my feet.

Then he lifts me up so my back presses against the mattress and he’s on top of me. Our eyes meet for one moment, right before he claims my lips again in a punishing, bruising kiss that surges through my body like wildfire igniting my entire body.

I moan something incoherent when he unclasps my bra and my aching, heavy breasts spill onto my chest.

He swallows my moans.

He kisses my jaw, all the while grunting like he’s feeling the same chaos igniting in my body, and in his.

When he licks the spot where a Mate’s mark should be, I have to dig my nails in his shoulders to keep myself from feeling the excitement of probably being marked.

I shouldn’t be thinking about marking. I shouldn’t be allowing a stranger to roam his hands all over my body like he owns it, but I do, and I want more.

“Oh, Goddess.”

The minute he wraps his lips around my aching nipple, the moan is out of me faster than I can stop it.

“Alaric, not Goddess,” he rasps, his voice rough and possessive. His tongue flicks over my nipple. “My name, wild one. Say my name when you moan like that.”

I tremble beneath him.

“Alaric.”

That pulls a smirk from him as his hand slowly and tortuously cascades down my body. He rewards me a second later when his fingers slip my panties down my legs, right before he starts exploring my core and drawing out a reckless mewl from my lips.

“Fuck, baby. You are so wet.”

He claims my lips again, stealing my moans as he pumps his fingers. When he curls them just right, hitting a spot inside of me that only he has a map to, my body clenches and my pleasure coils tighter.

“Alaric,” I gasp, hands fisting in his hair. “Please.”

His chuckle is dark.

He pulls his fingers out of me and they are slick with my arousal as he drags them over my lips.

“Good girl.”

I barely have time to catch my breath before he settles between my thighs, the thick head of his cock pressing against my entrance.

My body is already his.

He knows it.

I know it.

But he waits, eyes locked onto mine, as if he wants me to tell him to stop.

I don’t.

Instead, I pull him closer, my lips brushing his.

Alaric thrusts inside me in one slow, agonizing stroke. My gasp turns into a moan, my body stretching around him, taking him deeper than I thought possible.

He stops, letting me adjust and with a ragged breath against my skin, he starts moving.

Each thrust is deep and deliberate, dragging pleasure through me until I’m writhing beneath him.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his grip tightening on my hips. “You feel so fucking good.”

I can’t think. Can’t breathe.

I can only feel the way he fills me.

I can only feel myself chasing that high that gets close to a peak every time he thrusts in and out.

With one final thrust, my orgasm ripples through me as I cry out, his name spilling from my lips.

I unravel around him as my entire body pulses with the force of my release. But Alaric isn’t done. Not by a long shot.

He flips me onto my stomach, his chest pressing against my back, and thrusts into me again.

Then with a rough groan, his voice vibrates against my ear.

“This is just the start, wild one.”