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"You're the one who showed up looking like you stepped out of a magazine. Did you actually wear a suit to patrol today?"

"Had a territory meeting with the River Valley pack," he countered, sliding my wine glass closer. "Though I did change before coming here. Wouldn't want to disappoint my favorite chef."

"Chef? Careful there, or I might start charging you for these dinners." I turned to check the vegetables roasting in the oven, very aware of how he hadn't moved back to give me space.

"Would that make this a date?" The question was light, teasing. "Though I suppose after thirty-five years of being betrothed, we're a bit past dating."

I straightened up, finding myself nearly chest-to-chest with him. This close, I could see the faint stubble along his jaw.

"Is that what you told the River Valley pack today?" I asked. "That your witch-bound mate is still making you work for it?"

His eyes softened, though that playful smile remained.

"I told them I've been the luckiest wolf since the day your parents and my pack made that arrangement." He reached past me to refill my wine glass. "Even if you do make me set the table every time."

I studied his face, seeing past the teasing smile to something deeper in those eyes.

Three years of dinners, late-night conversations, and learning every micro-expression: the way his jaw tightened slightly when pack politics frustrated him, how his eyes crinkled at the corners when his laugh was genuine, and the subtle softening of his features when he looked at me like he was doing now.

"You know," I said softly, my fingers absently smoothing his shirt collar, "when I first moved out here, I was terrified. Not of you, but of...this. Of feeling something real for someone I was basically sold to."

His hand came up to cover mine, warm and steady. "I remember. You wouldn't let me help carry your boxes inside."

"Because I needed to know I could build something that was mine. That wasn't about the contract or the magick." I glanced around the kitchen we'd shared so many moments in. "I needed to trust that you saw me as more than just a power source."

"Hazel." The way he said my name made me look back at him. All the playfulness was gone, leaving something raw and honest in its place. "I've spent three years watching you create a home here. Learning your favorite books, your horrible taste in music–"

I huffed a laugh, but his fingers tightening on mine kept me from interrupting.

"Learning how fiercely you love, how carefully you trust. Every day made me more grateful that my parents chose your coven's offer, not because of any magick, but because it led me to you."

"Xavier," I whispered, my free hand sliding up his chest to rest over his heart, "I think I'm done waiting."

His breath caught, pupils dilating as he searched my face.

"Are you sure?" The control in his voice was fragile, betrayed by the slight tremor in his hands. "Because I can wait–"

I rose on my tiptoes, pressing my lips to his. For a heartbeat, he remained perfectly still. Then his arms wrapped around me, pulling me flush against him as he deepened the kiss. Years of restraint melted away as his fingers tangled in my hair and my hands gripped his shoulders.

When we broke apart, both breathing heavily, the look in his eyes made my knees weak.

"The food," I managed weakly.

"If it burns, then we can order takeout," he growled, lifting me onto the counter. His lips found my neck, trailing fire down my skin. "I've waited years, Hazel. Everything else can wait."

His mouth moved lower, tracing the line of my collarbone, sending shivers down my spine. We slowly moved to the edge of the kitchen table, my fingers digging into his hair, urging him closer.

Xavier's hands were hot and eager, sliding up my thighs, inching my dress higher.

He pressed me against the table, his breath ragged, matching mine, as his lips found the swell of my breasts.

I moaned softly, arching against him, feeling the hard length of him pressing against me.

This was what I had waited for, what I had wanted.

His fingers slipped under the lace of my new underwear.

"Evangeline," he murmured, voice a little thick, his lips trembling slightly.

The name was a cold slap, shocking me out of my haze of desire.

I froze, my breath caught in my throat, but Xavier didn't notice.

He continued to trail kisses down my neck, his hands exploring my body.

I pushed at his chest, trying to put some space between us, but he was lost in his passion, his eyes glazed over.

"What did you say?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I pushed at him again, harder this time. He didn't move, so I dug my fingers into his flesh.

He lifted his head, confusion in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" he murmured lazily, leaning in to kiss me again.

Drunk.

I turned my head away, his kiss landing on my cheek.

"You called me Evangeline," I said sharply, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.

His expression shifted, confusion giving way to realization, then horror. "Hazel, no–"

But I was already pushing him away, sliding off the table. My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out his protests.

"Don't touch me," I snapped, yanking my dress down.

He reached for me again, his hands shaking, voice raw with need and desperation. "Hazel, it was a mistake. I didn't mean?—"

"A mistake?" I repeated, incredulous. I stepped back, putting more distance between us. My chest heaved, tears stinging my eyes. "You think calling me by another woman's name while you're about to sleep with me is a mere mistake?"

Xavier's face contorted with a mix of desperation and anger.

"Hazel, please, it just slipped out. It didn't mean anything." He reached for me again, but I sidestepped him, my hands clenched into fists.

"It didn't mean anything?" My voice rose, echoing sharply in the small kitchen. "Seriously? When we're finally supposed to seal our bond, you're thinking of her and not me!"

His eyes flashed, a growl rumbling in his chest. "I'm not thinking of her, Hazel. I'm here with you. I choose you."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "Choose me? You didn't choose me, Xavier. Our parents did."

He slammed his fist on the counter, making the pots rattle. "That's not fair, Hazel. I've been patient with you. I've invested in this, in us."

"And yet, you can't even keep her name out of your mouth when you're with me!" I shouted, my own anger boiling over. I grabbed the wine bottle and hurled it at the wall, shattering it to pieces. The red wine dripped down like blood, staining the white walls.

Xavier's eyes widened, a dangerous glint in them. "You're being unreasonable, Hazel. It was a slip of the tongue."

"Unreasonable?" I echoed, my voice dropping to a deadly quiet. "You want to see something unreasonable, Xavier?"

I picked up the copper pot, the coq au vin still simmering inside, and dumped it onto the floor. Lid clattering, the rich sauce splattered everywhere, the smell of wine and herbs filling the air.

He lunged at me, grabbing my wrists. "Stop it, Hazel. You're acting like a child." His voice was a low growl, his wolf surfacing in his eyes, a dangerous mix of anger and contempt. "Evangeline would never throw such a tantrum. She knows her place, understands our world."

I wrenched my wrists free, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The ultimate betrayal sliced through me like a knife. He wasn't the teddy bear himbo I tried to make him out to be: the new generation of wolves that weren't patriarchal assholes.

He was just like the rest of them–and it had been an act. For my dowry? For me?

It didn't matter.

"And you're acting like a traitor," I snarled.

"How dare you come into my home, into my kitchen, and speak of another woman while you're touching me.

" I grabbed his shirt collar, tearing the shirt open, buttons scattering across the floor.

"How dare you make me believe this was real, that I was special. "

He grabbed my shoulders, his grip tight with frustration. "If you hadn't made me wait so long, if you hadn't been so afraid...Evangeline, she was just...I never meant for anything to happen, but you kept holding back, keeping your distance–"

"Don't you dare." I shoved him back, rage and heartbreak making my voice shake. "Don't you dare try to blame me."

He stumbled against the table, the asters he'd brought scattering across the floor. "Hazel, please–"

"I loved you," I said, the words burning in my throat. "I waited because I wanted this to be real, not just some magickal transaction. And you couldn't even give me that much respect." My hands were trembling as I pointed to the door. "Get out. Get out of my house."

His face darkened, his wolf now fully present in his eyes, a predator ready to pounce. "You think you can dismiss me? How dare you be so disrespectful. You need to learn how to treat your Alpha."

I pointed at the door, my hand shaking with rage and heartache. "Get. Out. I never want to see you again. You've killed everything we had and will never gain an ounce of my power."

He snarled, the sound echoing through the room like a death knell.

"You should have known better than to cross me, Hazel. If I can't have you, no one can." His hand shot out, wrapping around my throat.

Rage filled me, a pathetic trickle of magick sparking to life inside of me and swelling.

Or trying to. I'd never been a strong witch. Hence why the inheritance ritual was so important to complete.

How dare he! I'd kill him. I'd rip his claws out. I'd–

A harsh squeeze, a brutal twist, and darkness claimed me.