LENA
I couldn't sleep.
I'd dozed in short, restless patches, never fully surrendering to it, not even when Dom returned.
He'd stripped silently, his presence commanding even in the darkness, and slid into bed behind me like he belonged there. His body radiated heat, solid and warm against my back, and my traitorous body had softened toward him instinctively, seeking comfort in the very man I swore to resist. I'd stared at the far wall for what felt like hours, trying to still my racing mind and quiet the storm churning in my chest.
Werewolves.
Alphas.
Fated mates.
Dominic.
Every revelation over the last forty-eight hours hit like a freight train, but none of it bruised. There were no marks, no scars, only creeping dread settling in my bones, an impossible tangle of fear and desire and confusion that kept me wide-eyed while the man beside me breathed like he hadn't a care in the world.
I should have been terrified. I was, in some ways. But not of him, which was the worst part.
Because I should fear him, he could crush me without effort, bend me to his will with nothing more than a command. He'd said it himself—our bond meant I couldn't escape him. And somehow, instead of running faster, all I wanted was to crawl deeper under the covers and let his arms wrap around me.
And that was dangerous. It was outright crazy.
Because safety like that? It wasn't real. It was borrowed, bought with promises I didn't ask for, and couldn't trust. I sat up in bed, pressing my forehead to my knees and dragging in a long, slow breath, trying to think through the haze of want and confusion clinging to my skin like sweat.
He'd combed my hair earlier. Told me I couldn't escape him. That others would smell me now. That his enemies would hunt me. His voice had been soft, but the warning had been real.
I should stay, but I couldn't.
A knock at the bedroom door made me flinch. I wasn't the only one still awake, it seemed.
"Dom." It was soft and intimate, like she belonged in his room at midnight and done this before.
My stomach knotted.
He stirred beside me and sat up. His voice dropped low. "Stay," he murmured to me, the word brushing the back of my neck.
And then he was gone from the bed. I didn't let my eyes follow him.
I heard the rustle of clothing, the creak of the door. I strained to listen, hating myself for how badly I needed to hear what was being said. I couldn't make out every word, but the tone was enough. The intimacy in the way she said his name, the way his voice dropped lower in response. I only caught pieces of it, fragments sharp enough to slice through me.
"What, Adelaide?" He sounded tired and annoyed, which was satisfying when I had no right to feel that way. I was the one who interrupted the typical goings-on around the estate; I was the one who didn't belong.
"I need to talk to you, Dom. You can't keep ignoring me."
"Not tonight."
She sniffed, "Then when? You hurt me, the least you can do is—" I couldn't hear the rest over the thump of my heart. I hadn't even wondered before now if Dominic had been in a relationship before or what his personal life within the pack was really like, but clearly he had some type of girlfriend.
Dominic's voice carried back to me, but only the last part of his words. "...not like that, Adelaide. You know that."
"I know you, Dom. You don't get attached. What are you doing?"
The silence that followed cut me to the bone.
I curled my hands into fists, nails biting my palms.
I shouldn't have cared. I didn't even know him, and had been in his orbit for a measly 48 hours. But the truth was—I did. The attraction I felt was bone deep and I felt safe with him despite my world literally upending because of him.
But she knew him better. Beautiful, poised Adelaide. Her voice was velvet and fire. And mine? Mine was hoarse with doubt, bruised with panic.
The moment I heard them leave, I made my decision.
I got up quietly, quickly, determined to slip away with him distracted. I didn't belong here and he clearly belonged to someone else. This was a mess that I didn't need to be part of, other wolves or otherwise.
I dressed in whatever I could grab—Dom's oversized shirt, my sweatpants, and sneakers. No socks. My feet felt cold, but I didn't stop. My heart pounded loudly in my ears as I opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hall. No one was there. No Evan or Lucas or anyone else I didn't know lurking in a corner. I padded down the hall.
The house was dark, hushed. The kind of quiet that didn't feel safe. Still, I moved, wishing I knew anything about the giant home and the forest around it. It felt like I was creeping around in an old hollywood silent film, waiting for the boogeyman to jump out at me.
The bond tugged at me almost immediately, that invisible thread pulling hard toward the bedroom, toward Dominic.
I ignored it and sped up.
Because I wasn't his, and I wasn't going to stay just to prove it.
Navigating the estate proved to be harder than I expected. Every corridor was unfamiliar, and the whole place felt like it had a thousand eyes. But I moved quickly, turning corners and keeping to the shadows. Eventually, I found the grand staircase and slipped down it, heart hammering like it might break free of my chest.
Then I saw it—the front door.
My fingers trembled as I reached for the handle, hope flaring within me.
It was, of course, locked with a system of complicated locks.
Dom wasn't stupid. He had known I might try again. And hadn't he mentioned enemies? Maybe these were here for that reason.
Panic surged, hot and sudden, but I shoved it down. There had to be another way. I scanned the entry hall and found a narrower hallway leading toward the back of the house. I darted through it, one hand on the wall, breath coming fast.
And then—a smaller door. I tried it, clicked over the two measly locks, and it opened.
The night air hit me like a slap, cool and bracing. I stepped out onto the grass, the world stretching open before me. The tree line wasn't far. I just had to cross the yard.
But before I could take more than two steps into the trees, I heard it.
A low, guttural growl that froze the blood in my veins. I turned.
A massive wolf stood at the edge of the lawn, golden eyes glowing, head lowered in warning. His fur rippled in the moonlight, thick and dark, and I knew—I knew—even before he shifted, that it was him.
"Dominic," I whispered, my voice breaking.
The growl deepened, and then his body twisted, the air shimmering as muscle and bone stretched, reshaped.
Moments later, he stood before me, naked and unapologetic. I didn't look away this time.
The moon painted him in silver and shadow. Every inch of him was hard, honed, and terrifyingly beautiful. A scar cut across his left pectoral. Another along his thigh. Battle-worn. Alpha-built. He was a Greek god come to life.
My breath caught as his dark eyes dragged slowly over me, his mouth tugging into the faintest smirk.
"You were saying?" he asked, voice rough and low.
I yanked my eyes away, mortified. My skin burned.
"Go to hell, Dom."
He laughed, stepping toward me without shame. "Already there, sweetheart."
I turned, fists clenched, and marched back toward the house.
He let me stomp away like I still had control.
But I could feel him behind me. Not just his eyes—him. The bond, the weight of his presence pressing like a second skin.
I hated that I felt safer with him there, that the scary shadows and irrational fear of the dark vanished with his body heat behind me.
I hated that part of me that never wanted to run again. And I hated that part of me did, and that my body betrayed my undeserved jealousy and desire.
And I hated that I didn't know which one of those things was more dangerous.