Chapter 2
The knock on the door was sharp and rapid, like death come calling. Each bang against the wood rattled
through the room.
“Leander, Selah’s drunk again at the tavern!”
Leander lifted his head from the desk, his brows immediately furrowing. He didn’t even bother fastening
his coat before rushing to the door.
He turned and looked at me. Urgency burned in his eyes-along with something colder, something like
annoyance. A look that warned me not to waste his time.
“Wait for me,” he said, and the door slammed shut behind him.
Only the fireplace remained, crackling softly in the silence.
That little packet of powder sat quietly on the nightstand. The thin brown paper cast a jagged shadow in
the firelight, like some silent provocation.
I stared at it for a long time. My hand reached toward it, then pulled back. Again. And again.
Fake it.
The thought stuck like a hook in my brain.
If this was the performance he wanted, I’d give him one he couldn’t bear-force him to shove me off the edge himself, then make him watch what he’d done.
The night wind blew in with the scent of alcohol and cold earth. When the door opened again, I saw
Leander half-carrying Selah into the house.
Her golden hair spilled loose over her shoulders, coat hanging open to reveal the pale arc of her
collarbone. Her cheeks were flushed from drink, and her head lolled against his chest.
“Alec doesn’t love me,” she slurred, voice thick with wine and pain. “He won’t even admit I’m his mate. All
he cares about is duty… glory… the damn pack…”
Leander bent close, his voice a whisper soft enough for a child. “Don’t say that. Who could ever not love
you?”
His fingers brushed the hair from her face, careful not to even graze her earlobe. He touched her like she
was made of glass.
And it hit me then-he had never touched me that way.
Every memory of his affection was hard-edged, urgent, marked by possession. Never this gentleness.
Never this reverence.
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He settled her into the guest bed, pulled the blanket up over her, then crouched to remove her boots. He
moved like he’d done it before.
“Sleep, Selah.” His voice was warm, low, like he was afraid to wake her dreams.
When he finally stepped out, the softness vanished. Cold steel slid back into his features.
“Tonight’s your best chance,” he said, like stating the terms of a deal. “Go.”
He paused. Then added, “Wear the red silk dress I gave you. You’ve got the kind of body he’ll fall for.”
Like a puppet on strings, I turned back to the room. Picked up the glass of warm milk with the powder
dissolved inside.
Down the hallway I walked, every step like a blade underfoot.
I could hear my own heartbeat.
Alec’s door waited at the end, soft golden light slipping out from beneath it. The scent of pinewood and
leather lingered in the air.
I raised my hand to knock.
But inside me, my wolf howled: No. Isolde. Even if Leander doesn’t want you, you don’t have to betray
yourself like this.
My hand trembled in the air.
I clenched my jaw and turned to leave.
The door opened behind me.
Alec stood there, a sweater half-pulled over his shoulder, damp hair tousled as if he’d just stepped out of
the shower.
His gaze landed on the milk in my hands.
“For me?” His voice was quiet. Steady. The kind of calm that warned storms were near,
The pressure of his Alpha presence rolled over me like a wave, thick and suffocating. I could barely
breathe.
I forced my voice to stay even. “Leander said you haven’t been sleeping well. I saw your light and thought…
warm milk might help.”
He didn’t reach for it right away.
Instead, he looked at me-slow, deliberate, peeling back my composure with every second.
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Then he took it. His fingers brushed the back of my hand, heat blooming at the contact
He drank it all in one go, head tilted, throat moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
I stepped back instinctively.
But he caught my wrist.
His palm was warm against my skin. Not tight. But firm enough that I couldn’t pull away.
“Won’t you come in for a while?”
