Page 5 of The Forgery Mate (Taken by His Alpha #6)

My hand settles on the doorknob, the brass cool beneath my palm. I turn it slowly, expecting resistance, but it rotates with ease. Not locked.

The door opens a crack, revealing an empty hallway beyond.

The path to freedom lies clear before me.

Twenty steps to the staircase. Another thirty to the side entrance.

I don’t need to take the same path the servant brought me here by.

I know it’s only sixty seconds to the exit, and I’ll be in my car, driving away from this mansion and its memories.

Away from the possibility of seeing Ezra again.

My heart pounds, each beat a counter-argument. What if they don’t move fast enough? What if they can’t find the hidden room? What if they need more information than I already provided?

I close the door, the latch clicking back into place. I can’t leave yet. Not until I give them everything I know so they can save Jade.

I move back to the center of the room, the calm of committing to a course of action, however ill-advised, steadying my pulse.

Footsteps approach in the hallway outside, and my muscles tense, preparing for fight or flight, though neither option is an option now.

The door handle turns, and I wrap my Nico Duran persona around me. Jade didn’t recognize me. Neither did Aaiden.

I’ll be fine.

The door swings open, and time collapses like a house of cards. Ezra Rockford stands on the threshold, scanning the room before locking onto mine.

He’s different, sharper somehow, the boyish softness I remember carved away to reveal the defined angles in his jaw, a harder set to his mouth.

The silver streak in his hair catches the light, a lightning strike in the golden-brown waves.

His nostrils flare, and primal hunger flickers behind his golden-hazel eyes.

My pulse spikes, blood rushing in my ears. I’m wearing blockers. I register as a Beta. There’s no way he can catch even a hint of my pheromones.

He closes the door, and my heart beats faster as Ezra’s presence fills the room.

I can’t tear my eyes away from him. He’s taller than I remembered, or perhaps it’s the way he carries himself now, tension coiled in his broad shoulders and a predatory stillness in his stance.

Despite the late hour, he wears a tailored suit that accentuates the new muscle he’s added in the past year, his frame more solid, more imposing.

I force myself to take measured breaths, hunched to appear timid and disguise my real height.

The contacts change my eye color, and my blond wig is different from my natural dark-brown.

I’ve lost weight, too, my sharp cheekbones accentuated by bronzer, makeup giving the illusion of a narrower nose, a softer jaw.

My speech is different, too, my voice and cadence rehearsed.

Even the way I stand is part of the act.

I’m the exact opposite of the Professor Elias Knox that Ezra knew.

Yet when he steps forward, I can’t stop myself from taking an instinctive step back, my ass bumping the edge of Aaiden’s desk. Ezra advances again, close enough now for his pheromones to invade my senses. My body remembers this scent and responds to it before my mind can intervene.

Heat blooms low in my belly, and I shift my weight, trying to edge along the desk.

“Don’t.” The single word contains multitudes. Command. Plea. Threat.

I freeze, caught in his gravity.

“There’s something familiar about you.” His voice drops lower, intimate in the space between us. “Have we met before?”

“No.” The lie scrapes past my tight throat, thin as thread.

He studies my features with excruciating attention. “I never forget a person.”

“I have one of those common faces,” I manage, attempting a casual shrug that comes across as forced.

“No,” Ezra murmurs, “you don’t.”

He reaches out, and I flinch back, nearly toppling a crystal paperweight on Aaiden’s desk. Ezra’s hand pauses mid-air, then drops to his side, but his expression hardens.

“Who are you really?” he demands, the casual curiosity replaced by a dangerous growl.

I need to leave. Now. Before he gets any closer, before his Alpha senses cut through my careful deception. “I’m just someone trying to do the right thing.” I edge toward the door. “I’ve given Mr. Rockford my message. Jade needs help. That’s all that matters.”

Ezra moves with unexpected speed, cutting off my path to freedom. “That’s not all that matters.”

I back away again, heart hammering. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?” He follows my retreat, step for step, until my back hits the bookshelf. “Your scent is blocked. Industrial grade suppressants, the kind professionals use. Not a prescription a Good Samaritan has access to.”

He plants one hand on the shelf beside my head, leaning in until the heat radiating from his body sinks into me. His stare bores into mine, searching beyond my fake glasses and colored contacts.

“You have beautiful hands.” His focus drops to my fingers on the bookshelf. “Artist’s hands. I’ve seen them before.”

My breath catches. He can’t possibly?—

“I’ve touched them before,” Ezra continues, his Alpha rumble vibrating through me. “Watched them sketch in my window seat, while you were wrapped in my sheets.”

The air evaporates from my lungs. I try to slide away, but his other arm comes up, caging me between his body and the books.

“Impossible,” I manage, the denial weak to my own ears.

Ezra leans closer, his breath warm on my cheek. He inhales deeply, nostrils flaring as he samples what little of my natural scent escapes the blockers. He leans in until his lips brush my ear, his words a warm caress.

“I thought I smelled a ghost.”