Chapter 2
Late that night, I passed by Damon’s study after a shower. A thin line of light spilled out from the crack beneath the door.
Inside, the girl next door–Emily–was perched on Damon’s desk, tugging playfully at his tie.
“Damon, are you seriously gonna let your brother sleep with Mahina?” she teased.
“I mean, come on. You pulled out all the stops chasing her. And now what? You’re just handing her over?”
Damon slid his hands around Emily’s waist and pulled her close, planting a kiss on her cherry–red lips.
“Can’t bag the wolf without giving up the bait,” he smirked.
“I’ve always been second to Alaric. If I don’t beat him to the punch and give the great–grandkid first, I’ll never get more than a passing glance from the
old man.”
He leaned in, whispering against her mouth. “Besides, Mahina’s so boring. Nothing special.”
“You, on the other hand…” His eyes raked over her body. “You know how to have fun.”
The two of them collapsed into each other, kissing hungrily as if I didn’t exist just a room away.
My fists clenched at my sides, fury pulsing through me. But I couldn’t confront him–not yet. That would
the mos
The Rosethorn Pack was the most powerful wolfpack in all of Rosden. And I? Just an orphaned Omega with no name, no family, and no rights. Damon could crush me like an insect and no one would blink.
I’d learned that the hard way in my last life.
I’d tried running more times than I could count. I even made it to the borders of Rosden once–only to be dragged back by the Betas and thrown into that hellhole of a basement again.
I pressed my back to the wall and slipped quietly down the hallway, retreating to my room.
Damon had known I was in the room next door. And still, he’d messed around with Emily right out in the open.
It was proof. He’d never seen me as his mate. I was just a convenient tool–something to use and discard when the time was right.
The phantom sting of fire crawled over my skin again, as if the blaze from my last life had followed me back into this one.
Rage twisted in my chest. I curled into bed, gripping the blanket tight, eyes burning with cold, sharp resolve.
Then–footsteps. Unsteady. Heavy.
“Alaric, you’re going the wrong way—this is your room,” Damon’s voice called out, casual and just loud enough for me to hear.
A moment later, my bedroom door opened.
I stayed curled beneath the blanket, feigning sleep, my back to the room.
Through lowered lashes, I watched Damon half–carry his brother inside. Alaric’s steps were heavy, his movements sluggish–just as expected.
Damon’s gaze swept over me, then paused on the empty glass on my nightstand. A faint smear of milk still clung to the rim.
Exactly what he wanted to see.
He thought he’d won,
“Alaric, this is your room,” he said smoothly. “You go ahead and rest–I won’t keep you up.”
As he helped Alaric to the bed, Damon even had the nerve to gently close the door behind him like some thoughtful brother.
The mattress dipped beside me. A faint, familiar scent–white tea and musk–wrapped around me.
Then suddenly, the man next to me sat bolt upright.
Alaric.
He tilted his head toward me, eyes sharp and unblinking.
Wait–hadn’t he drunk all that soup? The one Damon laced with that witch’s special brew? How the hell was he still conscious?
I blinked groggily and sat up, feigning sleepiness as I rubbed my eyes.
Chapter 2
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“Damon… Why’d you take so long to come to bed?” I murmured.
Alaric turned his head to look at me. The moonlight through the window lit up his face–his gaze was cold, hard, and layered with something I couldn’t quite read.
I reached for him, wrapping my arms around his torso and pressing my face into his chest. “Honey, I was scared without you around… I had a
nightmare.”
His muscles tensed beneath me–but he didn’t push me away.
I watched his expression carefully, searching for any sign that the drug had worked. But no. He was too alert.
Which meant…
He hadn’t drunk the soup.
He’d only pretended to play along with Damon’s little scheme.
Because he cared for me? Was that why, in our last life, he chose to die with me?
Either way, I had to make the most of this. If there was even a sliver of something between us, I’d use it. I needed a way out of this hell.
And Alaric… he might be it.
leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Damon… I want you.”
At that, his entire body stiffened. His hand reached up and gripped my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye. His voice dropped low.
“What did you just call me?”
I blinked up at him, pretending not to understand “Damon?”
His eyes darkened. “Call me honey.”
Wait… What?
Before I could say anything, he leaned in and nipped at my lower lip, like he was giving candy to a child.
His voice dropped to a soft, teasing growl. “Be good. Say it–and I’ll give you your reward, sweetheart.”
My cheeks flushed. I lowered my gaze and whispered, obedient and sweet, “Honey…”
That one word shattered his restraint.
Alaric crushed his mouth to mine, his kiss rough and desperate. One hand slid around my waist, the other pinned me down against the bed.
He kissed like a man starved
His lips trailed down my neck as he yanked open the buttons of my pajama top. His hands roamed along my waist, up my ribcage, setting my skin on fire. And I let him.
Because in this twisted, dangerous world—Alaric might be my only way to survive.
Chapter 2
