Rhein's Pov
She smells like him.
Even from here on the other side of the clearing, where the breeze blows a dozen other scents through the pines, I can smell it. The wolf's musk, strong but subtle, clinging to her skin like a ghost. Maya Sinclair's been slipping into Block Seven once more, breaking Council law, risking everything for some man who should have died months ago.
Fool.
And yet, watching her emerge from her battered Honda with that stubborn look set on her jaw, I find myself attracted to her dedication.
My wolf shifts restlessly under my skin when she approaches the pack house. He's paced since dawn, back and forth like an animal locked in its enclosure, and I can now see why. The pull comes in the moment our eyes meet, not just the gentle tug of longing, but much, much more. One that makes my teeth ache and my senses stir until I can number the distinct freckles on her nose.
Ancient magic. Calling for Royal blood. Royal blood.
Damnit
"Alpha Rhain." She stands at the bottom of the stairs, her voice deliberately neutral. And yet I can sense her heart racing in her chest, can smell the burst of adrenaline flowing through her veins when she looks at me. She senses it too, this unbidden attraction growing between us like the electricity in the air before a storm.
"Maya." I don't move from where I stand resting against the railing, although all my instincts urge me to go to her. "Thank you for coming."
"Like I could help it." Green eyes blaze defiantly, and my wolf bristles at the challenge. He enjoys her spirit, but he also catches danger on her. "Barely a request was your message,"
I allow myself a faint smile. "Would you have come if it were?"
She remains silent, though her jaw clenches to signal all that needs to be said. Cunning child. She knows which game is being played, even though she's only just beginning to learn all of the rules.
"Inside." I push back from the railing, and she steps back. The air that's between us sizzles with tension, and I have to clench my hands into fists to keep from reaching for her. "We need to talk."
The pack house was empty, I made sure of it. What I have to tell her, what I need her to be paying attention for, is not to be overheard. She follows me into my office, her footsteps quiet on wood, but I can feel her awareness of me like a touch. I change positions and her heart rate quickens. I look at her and that infernal pull gets worse.
"Would you care for a drink?" I gesture toward the crystal decanters on the sideboard, more from a desire to have my hands occupied than because I'm polite.
"I'm okay." She remains at the entrance, ready to bolt. The defensive posture should infuriate me, since I'm an Alpha and expect obedience and submission. What it actually makes me wonder is how far I can stretch her before she snaps.
"Suit yourself." I fill two fingers of whiskey anyway, downing it at once in one smooth swallow. The burn won't dispel whatever there is between us. "Do you have any idea why you're here, Maya?"
"Because you like playing games with people's lives?"
The barb hits nearer to home than I would care to admit, but I don't let it slide. "Because you have on you a mark you should not have."
Her face studiously blanks, but not before I catch the flash of fear that dances briefly in her eyes. "Whatever you're hinting at, I don't know,"
"Don't you?" I set the glass on the counter and turn to her. The pull is stronger as I observe her slightly sway on her feet. Her scent changes, vanilla and jasmine covered by some deeper, richer note. Desire. She's trying to fight it, but her body knows more than her mind is admitting.
Just like mine does.
"Your left shoulder blade," I continue, my tone grating more than I intend. "Crescent moon and crown at the top, appeared three months ago, did it? Around when your dear Marcus came up missing?"
The colour drains from her face. "How could you possibly..."
"Because I share the same mark." The confession is bitter in my mouth. The movement is instinctive, and I spin, tearing my shirt off over my head in a hurry. The mark burns on my back like a sear, and I sense her shocked drawing in of breath.
"That's impossible." But she doesn't sound believable, and when we face each other once more, she's looking at me as if I have just destroyed her whole world.
Which, in my opinion, I have.
"Royal blood magic," I mutter, attempting to grab my shirt. But she's looking at my chest now, her gaze tracing the lines of the old scars, and the expression she's giving me makes something treacherous unroll in my gut. "It gets true mates from different bloodlines. As rare as hell and twice as inconvenient."
"I'm not yours," the words are indistinct. "I'm Marcus's. I can feel our bond..."
"You can sense both of them." I put my shirt on again, to ward off the kind of magic she is spinning around me with her gaze. "The question is, which one is stronger?"
She recoils as if I've slapped her. "You bastard."
"Among other things, yes." I approach her and she positions herself against the door. But she's not running, and that says more than any words would. "The Alpha Council knows about the mark, Maya. They're aware of its implications."
"What does it mean?"
The question is barely a whisper.
"It means that you are no ordinary she-wolf. It means that you carry bloodlines that run back to the first packs. And it means..." I stop inches from enveloping the heat rising off her skin, from seeing the beat of her pulse at her throat. "It means Marcus isn't the only one who claims you."
Her hand goes up to lie against my chest, and the contact sends electricity coursing through all of my nerve endings. Neither of us moves for a moment. Neither of us takes a breath. There is a weight between us of desire and denial and something that's a little too much like inevitability.
And then she pulls back her hand like I have burned her.
"This is nuts," she says, walking away from me towards the window. "I love Marcus. I have always loved Marcus."
"I'm not asking you to go," I admit, though really, only my wolf is protesting loudly. "I'm saying you're staying here until we can determine what this thing is. Until you and I can determine why the magic took its time coming forward."
She gazes at me once more, and I see her make the connection I have been hoping for. Her eyes widen, her face goes white, and her hand instinctively goes up to her throat.
"Vincent," she whispers
I nod gravely. "The evening Vincent 'died' was also the evening that your mark appeared. The evening that Marcus was taken. And the evening that someone called you and let you know he was alive." I sit back against my desk, my posture stiff and poised. "Now I want you to explain to me, Maya...what really happened that evening. Because whatever you and Marcus believed you buried, it's coming back up from the earth."
She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't have to. It's in the lines on her face, in the way she can't quite meet my eyes.
And how she would not proclaim herself to be feeling that thing between them, that unwanted, undeniable pull that's likely to ruin all that she knows about herself.
"You can't keep me here," she says at last.
"Can't I?" I smile, and mine isn't a pleasant smile. "Now you are under my control, sporting that insignia that makes you the property of the Council. And until we have some answers."
I leave the threat looming before us, keeping in mind that she is well aware of how cornered she is.
Between Marcus and me. Between fate and duty. Between what she desires and what the magic demands. My wolf settles into satisfaction. The game is on.