Chapter 282
The air grew colder the higher we climbed, and inside the car, condensation fogged the windows. Derek’s hand was resting on his knee, relaxed, but his eyes tracked the horizon with quiet prection.
A man preparing for something. A man stepping into territory where he’d be watched from the moment he arrived.
When the estate finally came into view, it rose from the stone like had been grown from the cliffs themselves. Slate–roofed towers capped in silver snow, blackstone walls, and windows that gleamed like polished obsidian.
The outer wall was lined with spears and banners–each one embroidered with the Stormfang sigil: a wolf’s head split down the middle by a jagged line of silver thread.
The gates opened soundlessly, as though they’d been watching us long before we arrived. The town car rolled forward slowly, tires crunching across packed snow and stone.
Wolves lined the entry in symmetrical rows–guards, but not brutish. They were elegant in posture, polished, disciplined to the last muscle. Each one wore a long navy coat, a silver emblem pinned at the collarbone, their faces expressionless as we passed.
I sat up a little straighter in my seat.
The car eased to a stop beneath a covered stone archway, and before the driver could exit, the door on Derek’s side opened.
The Alpha of Stormfang stepped forward.
He was tall, nearly Derek’s height, with steel–gray hair combed sharply back from his temples and pale skin that looked nearly translucent under the dim exterior lighting. His coat was crisp and formal, black with embroidered silver threading that climbed the sleeves like roots.
His bearing wasn’t just regal–it was imposing. A wolf used to command. A wolf who didn’t waste smiles.
He gave Derek one anyway.
“Stormfang welcomes Silverclaw,” he said, the words formal but not unfriendly. Still, his mouth barely curved. Derek stepped forward, extending his hand with steady confidence “We’re honored to be your guests.” Their hands clasped with the kind of grip that carried weight–respect, scrutiny, warning.
Then the Alpha’s eyes flicked past him–to me.
“You’ve brought your Luna.”
There was a pause.
A pause that stretched just a breath too long.
His words weren’t sharp, but there was something veiled beneath them. Surprise, perhaps. Or judgment. Or something else entirely. His gaze lingered on me, not inappropriately, but with the sharp curiosity of someone recalculating a game plan.
And in that pause, I felt the air shift.
Joe didn’t move, but his eyes narrowed slightly beside the car.
Caroline’s chin lifted a fraction.
I met the Alpha’s gaze with polite composure, giving him the kind of neutral nod that could be interpreted as whatever he wanted it to be. Deferential. Regal. Disinterested.
A glance passed between him and Derek–quick, but loaded.
I couldn’t decipher it.
1/3
Chapter 282
Derek answered smoothly, “She’s certainly a Lima. But she’s not yet mine.”
Yet.
The word echoed in my chest.
Not yet.
Not yet.
Something warm and low flickered inside me. I didn’t know what was, only that I wanted to feel it again.
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The Luna of the pack, a tall woman in dark silks, met us inside the doors and offered a gracious smile.
“We’ve arranged private quarters for our honored guests,” she said, and motioned for us to follow.
The interior of the estate was lit with golden sconces and woven tapestries. It felt ancient. Grand.
She led us up a sweeping staircase and down a hall lined with candles.
“Alpha King, your room is here,” she said, gesturing to the left.
She turned to me. “Luna Hart, yours is just across the hall.”
I nodded politely. “Thank you.”
I reached my door. So did Derek.
We both paused.
The Luna moved on.
He looked at me. I looked at him.
A shared glance. Heavy. Heated.
We each stepped inside our rooms at the same time, both doors clicking shut in near unison.
The wood between us felt thinner than air.
I stood there for a moment, back against the door.
Wondering.
If I opened it now–if I stepped across the hall and knocked once would he answer?
Would he pull me in without a word?
I pressed my palms to the door, heart thudding.
What would happen if I slipped across the hall in the middle of the night? If I slipped into the bed of the man who was rapidly proving to be my undoing?
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