His scent. His heat. His power.
I knew it was him before I even saw his face.
My breath came out shaky as I finally lifted my gaze, locking onto his silver eyes.
They burned with something unreadable, something dangerous.
His grip tightened, his body pressing into mine, making it impossible to move.
I struggled, thrashing in his hold, but he was too strong.
I had failed.
He had caught me.
Minerva's grip was unyielding, his body pressing into mine, pinning me against the cold stone wall. There was no escape. Not now. Not when he had already found me.
His silver eyes burned with something dangerous, something I didn't want to name, he gave Ade a look. Guards grabbed her.
I wanted to call out to her but she gave me a look that I should not say anything.
The same look that she has when she wanted to handle things on her own.
"Where exactly were you sneaking off to, Rivera?" His voice was low, but the sharp edge beneath it was unmistakable.
I clenched my jaw, refusing to answer.
His grip on my waist tightened. "I asked you a question."
I lifted my chin, glaring into his eyes. "And I don't feel the need to answer it."
Minerva let out a short, humorless laugh. "You don't feel the need?" His fingers curled slightly against my waist, sending a shiver through my skin. "You've been in my pack for less than a week, and already, you're testing me."
Testing him? I was trying to escape him.
I forced my expression to remain blank. "I was going for a walk."
His smirk disappeared instantly.
"Lies," he murmured. His free hand lifted, tracing the line of my jaw with his knuckles. "You aren't just some rogue who stumbled onto my land. You're hiding something."
I refused to react, but the way his fingers grazed my skin made it nearly impossible to ignore the slow burn it left behind.
"Who are you?" His voice was a whisper now, dangerous and demanding.
I swallowed, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. "Rivera."
His fingers wrapped around my throat not tight, just enough to make me feel his dominance.
"I don't believe you," he murmured.
I froze.
He was getting too close to the truth.
I tried to turn my head, but he wouldn't let me move. His thumb grazed my pulse, feeling how erratically it beat beneath his touch.
"What are you running from?" he pressed.
I clenched my fists at my sides. "I don't owe you an explanation."
His eyes darkened. "You're in my territory. My prisoner. My servant. You owe me whatever I ask of you."
I wanted to slap him.
I wanted to rip away from his hold, to shove him back, to scream at him that I belonged to no one.
But then I made the mistake of meeting his gaze again.
And I felt it.
The mate bond.
It crackled in the air between us, so strong it was almost suffocating.
No. No, no, no.
I refused to accept it. Refused to let it weaken me.
I hated him.
I despised how he was looking at me now, like I was something to be figured out, to be owned.
Minerva's grip on my jaw tightened slightly, and his breathing grew heavier.
I saw it in his eyes—the war raging inside him, the frustration, the undeniable pull he didn't want to acknowledge.
Just like me.
But unlike me, he wasn't going to fight it.
His lips crashed against mine.
A violent, possessive kiss.
A growl rumbled from deep in his chest as he pushed me harder against the wall, his fingers tangling in my hair, his body pressing against mine like he was staking his claim.
I gasped, but he took advantage of it, his lips dominating, demanding, relentless.
Heat coiled through my body, the bond screaming at me to respond.
I almost did.
Almost.
Then reality hit me.
I was not his.
I was Circe. The daughter of the man who had slaughtered his family.
And he was the Alpha who would destroy me if he ever found out.
I ripped away from him, my breath coming in sharp gasps, my fingers shaking as I wiped my mouth.
His silver eyes blazed with something dark. Something primal.
"Hate me all you want," Minerva murmured, his voice rough with hunger, with need.
He took a slow step forward, closing the distance I had put between us.
"But you are mine."
I felt it the weight of those words. They settled between us like an unspoken promise, a claim I refused to accept.
My breath came in sharp bursts, my heart hammering in my chest. I had faced death, had been betrayed, hunted, broken—but nothing had ever terrified me like the bond pulling me toward him.
I forced steel into my voice. "I am not yours."
His eyes darkened.
"I will never be yours."
The words felt like a lie, but I held my ground.
Minerva's jaw tensed, his breathing slow and controlled, but I saw the way his fingers flexed at his sides, like he was fighting the urge to grab me again.
"Say it as many times as you want," he murmured, voice like a slow-burning fire. "It won't change what we both feel."
No. No, no.
I couldn't let this happen. I couldn't let him win.
"I feel nothing for you," I spat.
Something flickered across his face, gone too quickly to name. He stepped closer, forcing me to press back against the wall.
"You lie as easily as you breathe," he whispered.
Enough.
I had enough of him—his power, his arrogance, his suffocating presence. I lifted my chin and glared into his stormy silver eyes.
"You want the truth?" I said, voice low, sharp as a blade.
Minerva's smirk returned, like he had already won.
But I wasn't done.
I leaned in slightly, just enough for him to think I was breaking. His eyes flickered with satisfaction.
And then I drove my knee up against his groin fast and brutal.
His body jerked, a strangled grunt escaping his lips as he staggered backward.
I didn't stop.
I twisted out of his reach, slamming my elbow into his ribs, using every ounce of training my father had forced into me.
Minerva growled, recovering quickly, but I was already running.
I bolted down the corridor, my breath ragged, my feet barely touching the stone floors as I pushed forward. Faster. I needed to be faster.
I reached the end of the hall, a door leading to the stairway. Almost there.
I grabbed the handle—
And a hand snatched my wrist.
Not just any hand.
His.
I barely had time to react before I was yanked back, my body slamming against his chest.
His breath was hot against my ear, his grip unyielding.
"You shouldn't have done that, little wolf," Minerva growled.
Before I could fight, before I could even scream—
Something cold pressed against my throat.
A dagger.
My own dagger.
His hand held it steady, the blade biting into my skin just enough to make me freeze.
I stilled.
Minerva's lips brushed against my ear as he whispered, "You belong to me now."
No. No, I didn't.
Rage burned through me, hotter than the sting of the blade, hotter than the mate bond pulling at my veins. I would never belong to him.
My body tensed, every instinct screaming at me to fight, to break free—
Then I heard it.
A horn. Deep. Loud. A war cry.
Minerva's hand faltered for a fraction of a second, his head snapping toward the sound.
My blood ran cold.
No.
Not here. Not now.
Another horn echoed, this one closer. The distant sound of marching feet, the clash of weapons against armor.
Minerva turned back to me, his silver eyes sharp, unreadable. But I already knew.
I didn't need to see them to know who had come.
A guard burst into the hallway, panting. "Alpha—"
Before he could finish, a second figure appeared behind him.
A presence I would never mistake.
Tall. Ruthless. Unstoppable.
The torches flickered, casting deep shadows across his familiar face.
My father.
King Lycaon.
His voice was calm, but it sliced through the air like a blade.
"Hello Minerva, we meet again."